At the time, I just couldn’t see it. What did Jesus hold back? The concept of “boundaries”—setting limits on how much I’d give others, or how much they could take—seemed a post-modern reflex against living radical and poured-out. I didn’t see a whole lot about boundaries in the Gospels.
Now I see it all over the place.
Ever conversed with a person who just really makes you feel heard and received? Who’s undistracted, and all there?
Here’s my aha moment of late: Real presence with other people actually begins with the way we’re present with God.
We’re often told to dream big for God, or that “God wants to do something big through you!” Perhaps we picture ourselves vaulting over jungles to an unreached people group, or running a homeless ministry, or a crazy amount of colleagues becoming Christians because of our influence.
But I’ve come to the realisation that sometimes, my desire to do something big for God has been, at times, just a desire not to be small.
Conflict is often full of such. . . loss. Loss of closeness, of dignity, of whatever was precious to us that someone trampled on. But would you believe me if I told you conflict is an opportunity?
I army-crawled through my own questions not long ago, amidst a cancer scare for my son. And I’d say that truthfully, more than events that alienate me from God, my thoughts are what often enslave me, threatening to tear me from the rigorous discipline of trusting what is true.
Like the seven Old Testament feasts God put in place, holidays can be a selah of sorts. So maybe you still have a day or two of holiday time left. If so, I hope these prompts (designed for “prinking” over—that’s praying and thinking) can help breathe some fresh air into your soul for the next year.
Most of us have a hierarchy of Job Coolness Factor. I’ve got one, too.
But as much as I joke about it—there’s an identity factor here, too.
So recently, I had one of my favorite kinds of nights: date night. I won’t gush too much. But suffice to say, I don’t take for granted being married to my best friend.
Truthfully, my heart felt raw, as if it were beating outside of my body. My grief felt so vulnerable, so scraped and skinned and gaping, that privacy was all I could fathom to deal with it.