Call Me By Name

All these tumultuous thoughts were making my stomach ache: fears of future choices and the effects on those I loved, present busyness that pulled me in different directions and exhausted me, the loneliness and stress that were eating holes in my stomach, the what if questions about finances and health. Laying on the massage table, receiving my weekly, therapeutic gift of touch, I couldn’t calm my tense body or my aching spirit.
“Just be with me.” I felt Jesus whisper in my soul. His still, small voice gracefully pulled my attention away from my issues and on to Him, the Lover of my soul. “Jenny,” His whisper of my name drew me with instant consolation. I felt my focus being absorbed by His grace, His presence. My breath slowed, my muscles relaxed, and my heart felt joy like nothing else can bring.
Letting go of every stressful image or palpitating fear seemed easier in this moment as my heart was surrounded by God’s desire to love me. His ache to have me by His side, to hold me, to love me. Oh how desperate my heart was to feel such importance! To be wanted by the One who knew every single moment of my past, present, and future. I let this thought permeate through my skin, warming my blood, filling every cell. He wants me. I am His.
No matter how big the problems I was facing seemed, no matter how much change was needed in my attitudes and actions, I heard the insistent reminder to quiet my soul and just be with the One who was in control of everything. In that moment, it wasn’t as important for me to figure out how to change my world or how to expand my influence, as it was to feel God’s comforting arms wrap around me and allow room for His love to assure me of my place in His heart.
His embrace was warm and tender. I felt surrounded by peace in the middle of the raging river of chaos that was my world. I stood soaked in life’s demands, but warmed by the strong chest I leaned on and the solid arms that held me. I felt scripture come alive. It was possible that whatever circumstances I found myself in, past, present, or future, I could quiet my soul and meditate on the joy of His abiding presence. I could heal from life’s pressures in the shadow of His wings, in the tenderness of His embrace. And I could flourish by His works to the place where I could shine His light and embrace others with His beautiful, unconditional love.
The next morning, sitting on the quiet street in front of the school I worked at, I thought about the intimacy of having my name known, being called by name. It’s a simple and yet intimate acknowledgment when you are called by name, when a friend or lover is completely focused on you and your name graces their lips. There’s importance shown, attention drawn. I don’t know how else to explain it. Hearing my name spoken out loud even in the morning coffee shop by the barista who has memorized more than just my order, brings a smile to my face and a sense of being important enough to know, to see. I randomly opened my Bible to the book of Isaiah.
Isaiah 43:1b “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name. You are mine.”
I closed my eyes and remembered the summoning of my name from the day before. Jesus knows my name. My eyes closed, the deep sigh released. He loves me enough to know exactly who I am. The single tear rolled down my cheek. He personally calls me His own.

Flowing Glory

We’re sitting here having these conversations, my little girl and I. My eighteen year old, grown up daughter who absolutely amazes me with her grace, depth, and beauty. We spend an hour looking over her art pieces, diving into the meanings and the stories and the exposure some pieces force on her. I see the tears well in her eyes as she experiences the nakedness of having her work observed, as she imagines a stranger’s eyes perusing what she has poured into her art. I am so proud of the readiness, the willingness in her to step out, to find courage and be seen. I hear her speak of the soulful strokes of her hands on the page and the depth of emotion that was released. She is my precious daughter, the woman I adore, and I am stunned by the capacities of her heart.

The next night we sit at the kitchen table sharing faith. Instead of seeing scripture through the eyes of a strict, condemning God, we talked about the revelation of the past four or five years in seeing through the compassionate eyes of Jesus. I hear the freedom in her voice, the excitement at being able to hear a verse spoken and instantly to pick up on the tone of grace. How habit that used to draw a straight, narrow minded line of disappointment and disgust into the words of Christ, are now abolished, replaced with the flowing glory of love’s tender words in scripture.

She shares her heart with me, entrusting more and more in the solid ties that bind us. I see the tears she’s often tried to hold back, now releasing in the safe place she is starting to trust. I hear her vulnerability being offered to me as equals, she as my little girl who has become this incredible young woman. I hear her wisdom. I feel her compassion. I taste her joy. I witness her honor. And I am blessed beyond all measure by her presence.

I Am With You

You fill me with hope. Every threat of inadequacy is destroyed by your power and love. The beautiful breeze you sent me this morning, simply blew away every “I’m not good enough” thought. You amaze me.

Thank you for clarity, for the knowledge that rings clear and true in the deepest parts of my heart. Thank you for courage, for the strength to be rooted in your power and your everlasting love. Thank you for willingness, for pushing me out the front door, for showing me over and over that every step on the journey is worth it. Thank you for cleansing, for every outpouring of grace that washes over me and heals me. Thank you for freedom, for awareness, and for joy.

Under a thin layer of skin, beats a jubilant heart. I feel it under the palm of my hand laying against my chest. Peaceful rhythm, tender smiles, gentle excitement. You have shown me the sunshine. I adore you.

Never stop teaching me. Never allow me to stand still. No matter how torrential the future storms look, how threatening the risks loom, push me forward into growth. Show me your power. You have built trust in my once crippled heart, and now I am jumping into your arms with surety that you will not only catch me, but that you will look at me with that beautiful, adoring gaze and hold me tighter and more secure than ever dreamed possible.
You fill me with hope.

I wrote this yesterday. Today I am being conquered by doubt. I have issues with being seen as “the bad guy.” Totally admitting that. The impending doom sits like a rock in my gut that I will be seen this way. It is a young emotion that I wonder if it will ever be done with me. Maybe God had me write this yesterday so I could reread it today. I need it today.
“Take My Hand” expresses everything I want to be. I want to love, not injure. I want to reach out, not push away. I want to comfort, not destroy. The little girl in me desperately wants to please. She wants someone to see the big hearted, playful girl. She wants to be known and adored no matter her mistakes. She wants to be valued just for being her. She wants to be loved.
The grown woman says it’s time to take care of myself. She gathers up every bit of courage to do what’s right even when it could hurt others. She struggles to keep hold of the freedom to laugh and to give. She stares at her reflection repeating over and over that she is valued and accepted by herself and by the God who created her.
It is one deep,frustrating conflict!

I Caught A Glimpse

I experienced my first glimpse of God using my past for His glory. I sat with two beautiful women, broken wide open, wounds both fresh and old. They shared stories with me as well as tears. And I was asked to share my victories, the God given healing I have and am still experiencing. There was a bit of hesitation in me, wondering if what I had to say would be too much for a stranger to hear. But in the eyes of this authentic woman who sat across from me, I felt a connection of heartache, and a desire to offer her encouragement in the witness of God’s mighty hand working through my life.

As I walked through my God story of trying to earn His favor to giving up in my disappointment to hearing His voice calling me back, I saw recognition in their eyes. God’s persistent beckoning when I was dirty, broken, with nothing to offer Him, was my heart’s undoing. He wanted me. He was pursuing me, and His tender voice never stopped calling, His hands constantly were held out to me, His arms wide open and ready to embrace me. The hope bloomed there, in speaking out loud His abiding love and desire for my heart. The hope bloomed as they listened to me and saw the genuine joy in my eyes, the glistening gratefulness in my tears.

I wanted to shout out how amazing He is, as I told them of the way He built trust in me so that He could do His miraculous and heart wrenching work of healing. In the middle of the painful exposure of my old wounds, I wondered when I would find peace. When He allowed ripping away of old protective covers, I panicked and wept fiercely over the heartache. For the first time ever, I told these two women about one instance where I was pushed and crippled by the process. I spoke out loud the powerful scene and broke down in tears with them at the admission of such rawness. And then God did it. Clarity. I saw His hand at work, I saw His incredible love for me and His wisdom in knowing exactly where I had to be taken emotionally to be able to face the reality of my past.

So many times we’re in the middle of the turmoil wondering where the end of the road is, where the other side of the crossing is. So often it takes years before we can look back and see the trail of God’s intervention. I saw it, sitting at my dining room table with my friends, willingly opening up to the possibility that God can use my story to bless another. I saw it in the abandonment of fear and the witness of what God can bring us through. I caught a glimpse of His power in my past, and a glimpse of His plans for my future.

My Tears Are Falling

As I am invited to step in, immersing myself in the mind, slowly examining the depths of our brokenness and the capability to find healing, I am overwhelmed with God’s outpouring of grace. I have cried everyday staring into our dark places, knowing personally the intricacies wounds create. Grieving the pain of losses, I stand in awe at the resilience, the strength, the determination of the human spirit. I shed tears for the stigmas and fears that hold us back from offering what’s needed: acceptance, significance, love.
God is creating in me new wells of understanding and compassion. He is filling me with desires to hold open my arms to those who have suffered rejection and heartbreak. God is teaching me to see, truly see for the first time the beautiful complications of the soul. I am afraid of what this all means, I am afraid of what my capacities are, I am afraid that I will not live up to the purposes He is leading me towards.
I am also willing to take the risk.

A basic question deep in Christianity asks if good behavior, hard work, and following the laws earn acceptance from God. Is it possible that righteous living and a charitable heart can earn a position of good standing with a holy God? Or does the destined breaking of such moral standards leave people hopelessly disconnected from God? How can a fallible human race, inevitably doomed to make bad choices throughout life, connect with a perfect God?

The answer Christianity offers is grace, a small, overly used word that has lost much of its meaning. This word proclaimed in countless sermons and declared through innumerable songs holds a deeper meaning that most comprehend. The most well known definition for grace is unmerited favor of God. It is also called “the root of salvation” (Cloud, 1993), the “opposite of what we deserve” (Cloud, 1993), the “great, central theme of the Bible” (Rohr, June 2002), and “not only the lack of merit, but the presence of demerit” (Bridges, Fall 1998).

Grace is God offering to us what we clearly don’t deserve. Grace is God making a way through Jesus so that we can be saved from hopelessness. Grace is the perfect, righteous, holy God looking at a depraved, sinful, destructive man and adoring His creation, loving him enough to sacrifice everything for him, treasuring his everyday journey and his infallible core being. “Grace is God’s favor through Christ to people who deserve His wrath” (Bridges, Fall 1998).

Trying to earn this favor from God is a hopeless endeavor. Author, Bill Giovannetti says “the abundant Christian life decomposed into white-knuckled determination and duty” that ultimately felt like repeated failure. Believing that acceptance from God can be earned by following commands, obeying laws, and practicing generosity leads us to one of two places: feeling worthless and guilty, or arrogant and superior. We will either feel our failure deep in our bones and collapse from the weight of expectations to be good enough, or we will swell with false pride, holding our heads high above others in an attitude of elitism. Pictured in Luke 18:9-14, the Pharisee stands and publicly announces himself as superior, praying words of thanks that he is better than the people around him, bragging about his service and dedication. Then the focus falls on the humble tax collector who knows his depraved state and cherishes God’s gift of grace as he begs God for mercy. This biblical portrayal shows the opposing attitudes of works versus grace.

According to Dean Halverson, author of The Compact Guide to World Religions, “The language of grace cannot be mixed with the language of merit.” If one works to earn something, than it is a contradiction of terms to say it is of grace. Romans 11:6 supports this standing. “And if by grace, then it is no longer by works; if it were, grace would no longer be grace.” People tend to try and own good behavior, to take credit for hard work done, and to feel pride in the ability to please God themselves. Humility and admittance of ineptness in reaching God is resisted in the independent mind set of the world. The simple fact is that if it counts for something, then it is not grace. When the false teachers in Galatia tried to mix works and grace, Paul, the apostle and author of Galations argued this fact: “Does God give you His Spirit and work miracles among you because you observe the law, or because you believe what you heard?” Paul continues by preaching that we are saved by faith, not by works.

Matthew 20:1-16 tells the story of a vineyard owner and his employees. One of his workers was out in the fields laboring all day for his wages, while another worker only spent half a day in the fields, and another worked for only one hour. When they lined up to receive payment, each was given the exact same amount. This goes strongly against our sense of fairness, and “our familiar accounting system based on merit,“ but “God’s love is determined by God’s goodness, and is in no way dependent upon us” (Rohr, June 2002). Grace does not count hours or earnings. It does not weigh worth or measure merit. The beauty of grace is found not in the employee’s earnings, but in the vineyard owner’s holiness and mercy.

The failing of humanity to be good enough is declared through Old Testament law. Romans 5:20 and Galations 3:21,22 both state that the law leads people to recognize their shortcomings with the purpose of dependency on God to follow. It is in this process that one can begin to feel the fullness of grace’s affects. Imperfection and irresponsibility are two words that define “sin,” the breaking of God’s laws. “It is aggravated assault upon the infinite dignity of His person” (Bridges, Fall 1998). The authority and power is God’s and God’s alone to punish sin, and yet He pours out his grace instead. Through Jesus’ perfect life, death, and resurrection, He earned this gift of grace for us. Ephesians 1:7 tells us that it is through His blood that we receive forgiveness and grace. Colossians 2:13,14 say that through the cross all of our trespasses are forgiven. “Jesus satisfied God’s justice and turned away God’s wrath from us by bearing it Himself on our behalf. Now God can extend mercy to us without subverting His justice. Mercy and justice meet together at the cross” (Bridges, Fall 1998)

As a little girl I believed in Jesus, and that He died for my sins. I trusted that if I asked, He would come into my heart and save me. Praying, I relied on His promise and crawled into His welcoming embrace. My eight year old heart felt secure in the arms of God, and listened closely to the stories of His power told in Sunday School. I watched my father preach every week and hung on his strong presence as he reached out to everyone at all hours. I witnessed both of my parent’s dedication to our church and accepted the need to strictly adhere to the traditions there. My desire to please influenced the direction of growth in my faith.

As an adult, I became a work horse for God: pianist, interpreter, Sunday School teacher, youth leader, church secretary along with trying to pray and study at home, teach my children, and honor my husband like I was supposed to. If I followed the rules, obeyed and served willingly, then God would bless me, make my marriage beautiful, and lift me out of the gloom that was increasing in my life, but the more I struggled to do the right thing, the more exhausted I became. Depressions worsened and walls seemed to close in on me. I persisted because I believed in what I had heard all my life at church. I sunk deeper. I can't express how overwhelmed I felt.
The holes in my heart were many. A shotgun had blasted hundreds of raw spaces and no one and nothing had healed those gaping wounds. Abuses, betrayals, disappointment, and abandonment left weeping scars. My efforts to fill them in over my whole lifetime with years of dedicated service in my traditional church were wasted and left me with more aching areas. Loneliness, rejections, and a sense of never being good enough influenced a cyclic mess of desperate actions. Healing was elusive.

At the age of 32, I purposed in my heart to erase all the suffocating rules of church, all the lessons learned from birth about God's weighty expectations of me. Every time guilt assaulted me, I would forcibly pull my attention elsewhere and demand the pressures out. I didn't know if I was permanently excluding religion from my life or just making room for new, enlightened thoughts. All I knew was that there was a need for cleaning up inside my house and I started off trying to sweep out the shame of my failures.

I went to Women of Faith for the first time two years later and experienced the strength of God calling. I was terrified to open that door to Him. All my work towards deserving a blessing, all the efforts piled up to present to God as proof that I was living righteously, were drained and washed away by my reckless behavior. The choices I had made were in direct opposition to a godly lifestyle and if I was going to approach God now, respond to His call, I would be coming forward empty handed. My built up, Christian persona was crumbled in chunks around my feet and I stood naked and vulnerable in front of a God that I thought was demanding of perfection. I felt goose bumps on my exposure. I felt humiliation in my lacking. I felt confirmed in my worthlessness and questioned why He would bother calling me back at all. I was dirty, soiled by my choices. I was too tired and too angry to change. If God really wanted me, would He take me with nothing to offer Him?

I opened my heart to Him cautiously, and began attending Neighborhood Church.
I felt cleansed and renewed by lessons of grace and how God accepts us because of what Jesus did, not because of any works we do. I heard God's Spirit comforting me with proof of my true identity having accepted Christ as a young girl and the endless ripples that this gift provided. God tenderly worked piece by piece to tear down my 30 year old walls. His truths conquered my doubts and fears, claiming freedom for my exhausted soul. I felt His presence like never before.

I began living with new purpose, to live with my arms wide open, soaking in these new revelations about who God was and how much He adored me. I devoured books about how precious I was to God, how shame didn't belong on my shoulders, and how to pour that healing love on myself. Those old wounds had to be cleaned out and nursed. I was up for the work because I had God sitting there next to me, wiping the tears and holding me close. God rebuilt trust in me, He restored relationship with Him, He filled in every wound with His being, His love.
I stand in services now with my arms raised high, praising God who saw me through all of those tumultuous years, and who brought me to the other side where I could clear away those expectations and works, and see how He loved me for me, because of His great goodness. It's when I was naked and poor that I truly felt the richness of God surging in my heart.


God is not flexible with His standards or lenient in overlooking humanity’s faults.
He is full of grace. Propitiation means that Jesus paid in full every moral and legal debt owed. Humanity is not saved by works, neither do we earn good standing in the eyes of God. It is only through His Son that we are given “every spiritual blessing” (Ephesians 1:4-6). This is grace. This is the free gift of God to his creation.

Titus 3:4-7 reads “But when the kindness and love of God our Savior appeared, He saved us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of His mercy. He saved us through the washing of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit, whole He poured out on us generously through Jesus Christ our Savior, so that having been justified by His grace, we might become heirs having the hope of eternal life.”

“Oh the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person, having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all right out, just as they are -- chaff and grain together -- certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and with the breath of kindness blow the rest away."
-- Elizabeth Barrett Browning