the Grace of His Grace

The onset of anger and frustration began to brew quietly beneath my thoughts. It was rather distasteful coming out of the day’s sweet moments. An afternoon of conversation and revelation had been this salve drawing sight out of otherwise blind dynamics. I soak up these moments with my husband on our craigslist couch and God so near, part of the processing: the dialogue, giving light to the difficult.  Reaping the graces of that perfect insight is grace itself. He knows what we need.

            But with gained understanding and fresh perspective, I found frustration stemming from the now more recognized dysfunctions. We’re all wired against injustices, something involuntarily rises from deep inside in response to “uh… wrong!” Mulling over the crazy dynamics started to “get me going” on one of those internal rants we’re all really good at giving. Joy is so easily robbed. And I hate getting stuck there. So I decided to talk to the One who gave the insight. I took my window-side seat, aka: our comfy, 1970’s, low-rider chair endowed in fab red floral and situated nicely next our large picture window. I recently discovered its higher qualities: a fine place to contemplate, read, and pray. My journal opened and prayers took the pages.

            I told Him about the nagging situation, letting Him in on my frustrated thoughts; how sin and Satan stir havoc unceasingly, causing sweet joys to seem far and foreign. He reminded me of the peace in Him and I found myself running for shelter there. And there, in Him, Truth renewed me. Freedom was mine and I gathered it up with fresh confidence. Then the thought: in order to live intentionally I have to live confidently. “Living intentionally” has been this side-dialogue I’ve had with God. But I saw it now weaving with the present situation.

Fear has kept me from receiving and enjoying the sweet gifts and graces of Christ. Insecurities: life threatening: fatal to my joy and freedom in Him.  They’re so common, these easy vices. But the blessing remains beautiful as you, and I, cling to the truth of being “in” Him, that He is in us: a perfect, heavenly matrimony.

            Lately, I’ve been getting to know this sweet connection in an all-the-more concentrated way. Like literally living the song “This is the Air I Breathe.” (Perhaps you’ve heard it. If not let me share: “This is the Air I Breathe, Your holy presence living in me.”) You can grow up listening to such songs and then the deeper meaning strikes you one day in God’s perfect timing, much as it has for me. Realizing my relationship with God is something living, something as constant and founded as that involuntary act of breathing. He’s doing life with me daily, just as I do my life each day married to my husband. Not a day goes by that I’m not living married to Danny. And it’s that same dynamic with Jesus; it was all determined the day I said, “Yes, Jesus,” and now the reality of His life in me and my life in Him—with Him, abiding—simply is and always will be. And not just till death. In fact, death was the beginning of it all.

            There is so much to this deep revelation of life. And I know, now, it’s not just a kind of life you hear about or see others living but know you’ll have to write it off for yourself personally because you can never seem to get it. Obviously I’m familiar with such thoughts. The doubts and disbelief in me have screamed them forever. So I’ve lived stuck in a state of desperately needing and wanting Jesus to be way more real and my life to actually mean something more than XYZ. He is patient, sweet friends. And fighting for the freedom and the grace that He actually talks about IN THE WORD… is so worth it. It so often takes time. Ok… way more time than I’ve wanted, but His ways are perfect, and He will carry on His work to completion—that perfect work of pressing us on to attain that which we’ve been attained for: life and freedom with God. It’s not impossible with Him. Believe Him for it when your mind tosses unceasingly with doubts, “It will never be.” It just is. And He’ll show you… as He’s been so graciously showing me.

I found the frustrations fading, the anger melting in His light amidst my dimly lit, late afternoon apartment. Living intentionally is simply choosing His grace, believing He’s in me, with me, and has called me to be there—to be there in all of life’s crazy, unfair situations. And as I contemplated, and my journal basked in heart-cried prayers, the peace of God took me beyond the present dynamics. He reminded me to be confident of the “identities” He’s endowed me with in this life: adult, woman, mother, wife… they’re His call for me, so I can live them with authority and strength. He gave the challenges to give back to Him; an unceasing conversation, like that to a best friend or a spouse. He wants me to throw off the fear that so quickly ties me down, aka: “the sin that so easily entangles,” and live to that which He’s led me. It happens in commonplaces like late September days, small apartments, and craigslist couches. And the piece of it that will always remain is I’m in Him, He’s in me, my anchor… sitting opposite me next to the same big picture window.
            I occupied my floral chair and absorbed the sweetness of His finished work. All the craziness, the nagging dynamics of people or situation, seem far and weightless when Jesus speaks through my quiet living room, “It’s finished.” I can live within the wake of His victory: redemption. I there rest my soul. All the plaguing thoughts of fear, the clingy frustrations seemed small, as I retired an empty coffee mug and observed the fading daylight. My cares were cast and confidence renewed as the shadows deepened with evening. I closed my journal, then, with the rising light, the sweet grace of His grace.



Thanks to my mom and husband, constant voices of His patient, unceasing grace in my life and faithful prayer warriors as I've long wrestled with this truth. For the work He's accomplished in my life through your encouragement and intercession, I know He's smiling and His heart is warmed. Thank you for not giving up on me, and always reminding me that He doesn't either.

           

            

We Live In Medford

Next month it will have been a year. It’s been different. Family and friends continue to flood us with familiar questions: “How do you like Oregon?” “Why exactly did you move to Medford?” “How’s Danny’s job going?”

Looking at our year in review leaves even me a bit stumped.  Not so much of why we came to this place or what specifically God has done. I’ve known some of the specifics and others God has left us wondering at the full purpose. But what I do know I will attempt to share so that the questions may be more fully answered rather than the brief explanations we might be graced to give in passing moments.

I’ll start with the “why here.” I figure that most people know bits of the reason if not all. But here comes the more “thought out” response that writing allows with backstory for context.

For those who have not known Danny and I long, we were both born and raised in Spokane, Washington. Our roots were there, everything familiar, both our families there remain. I, even, grew up in the one house on the north side and lived there up until my wedding day. We love Spokane. Neither of us necessarily felt as though we wanted to rid ourselves of the place as some do their hometowns. We’ll always love the “bigger small town” identity that it bears, claiming its own bit of urban while allowing for social circles to intertwine by all sorts of crazy relations. I know so much of the place and yet there are still parts that I’ve yet to discover in all of its sprawled out sub-communities. Our history is in Spokane and my sentimental side will always find it the dearest of cities.

So to come to our parting: towards the latter part of high school, I’d yearned to break out on my own. I think most at that age get it, whether wanting to “rid themselves” of their childhood haunts, or merely aching to discover something new. I needed new. I would look into different college opportunities just far enough away, but not too far. Oregon always drew me. Alas, I would find the college way closing along with my brief idea of adventure to “break free” on my own. God must’ve found it necessary that I have a companion for that journey, and brought me back to my high school sweetheart, aka: husband, Danny Porter. I quite agree with His thinking now. Only He knows how much I truly needed this man for the “out on my own” adventure ahead.

            Even as we pursued wedding day, moving away from Spokane remained in conversation. At one point, Danny was going to take on a six-month job at our church; we figured once his commitment was fulfilled there, we would make the step to move. But when that door closed, it was a time of merely waiting on the Lord to give the word and set the specifics. My restlessness would drive me to tears, sometimes. I so yearned to get away, to be refreshed, to seek some space and time to process. And, even so, a different desire sparked amidst that battle. I suddenly wanted to be a mom more than ever despite Danny and my earlier talk of waiting a year or two. It all left me antsy.

            Danny, in seeking about our somewhat tentative “move,” felt that the Lord would make it very clear when the time came. Certain things led us to believe we’d be heading towards the Portland area. Danny had also heard the Lord speak clearly about starting a family; while reading about the Israel exiles, somewhere in Isaiah or Jeremiah, he’d come upon a verse in which God commanded that they not have children in this land. He received that from the Lord, feeling as though we were not supposed to start our family in Spokane. So both the desires in my heart bore the same ultimatum: when were we going to move. God allowed me rest and gave me peace to wait. But the questions lingered.

It was late July of last year (2011.) Danny and I were spending time at the renowned “Porter Lake House” on Coeur d’Alene. The Alaska cousins were down along with Danny’s Aunt and Uncle. In our time with them, God put a word on Uncle Rick’s heart. Uncle Rick shared with us late one night that he’d been praying for a word for us and what came was directed towards me: “new life.” I wanted to cry. It was as though my eyes were opened to this deep need within that I hadn’t quite known how to identify. God had done so much in tearing down past things; I needed new. On the way home that night from the lake, Danny and I both mutually agreed: we were supposed to move. God had been putting it on Danny’s heart even before that evening’s conversation: to take me away to be with Him. Our lease was going to be up at the end of September, and even with that, Danny had felt we’d know what was next two months before the deadline. Thus, late July came with these revelations. And I was filled with excitement as I discovered the reason for my aching heart and saw the new now within sight. The fact that we found I was pregnant early September only confirmed our call onward.

            When it came to “where” exactly we were moving, Danny had felt Pastor Jon Courson’s church down in Medford would be a healthy place for us to be as we embarked out on our own. We had visited the church, Applegate Christian Fellowship, on our honeymoon back in May of that year. Danny had spent time studying under Pastor Jon via internet a while before and had grown immensely through his teaching. So when we road tripped through Oregon, we decided to make the stop and visit the church. It had never really entered our mind at that point that we would call the place home. Our experience that Sunday was amazing and God truly blessed us there. In seeking the Lord about it, that’s where Danny’s heart was set.

God went before us in remarkable ways. A family I had come to know a bit through our church in Spokane (the Wilcox’s) just so happened to be moving to Medford themselves. As a greeter on Sunday morning, down in the children’s wing at church, I would hold the door open for the families coming in. During the cold months, I tended to wear my purple pea coat, and because purple was little Lily Wilcox’s absolute favorite color, I became somewhat of the Sunday landmark known as “the girl with the purple coat.” As I’d run into Phil and Jenny Wilcox around town here and there, I got to know them a bit more. And discovering that they just “happened” to be making Medford home themselves, I made contact with Jenny to share our news as well. We were, and still are, so blessed by this sweet family. Jenny spent time driving around Medford apartment shopping for us, as we could not make trips down to look ourselves. She weeded out the icky neighborhoods and helped us work through application processes. She was able to secure the charming little apartment we live in today. The Lord has been so good to us.

That October, in route to our destined Medford home, our little car was totaled when I accidentally rear-ended Danny as he drove the U-Haul ahead of me. (Ha! It sounds so ridiculous.) Our friends and pre-marital mentors had once lived in Kennewick where this little fiasco went down and were able to put us in touch with some friends there. We were so blessed by the sweet hospitality offered us by the Wade family. They allowed us to land at their house while we figured out what to do about our junked car and wait for my dad to make his way down to get us the rest of the way to Medford. What craziness! But it happened, and here we are! We would not have shared in the unique blessings God extended through His Body had this event not taken place. And the time spent with my dad as we completed our journey came with awesome conversations so encouraging and hopeful.

We made it here October 13, 2011: one day shy of our anticipated arrival. My dad helped us move in and a couple days later made his way back to Spokane. Jenny Wilcox continued to bless us beyond what we could’ve foreseen or imagined, driving us around Medford, taking us grocery shopping, etc. And Danny took up avid bike riding as he pedaled the streets looking for a job. We both whooped ourselves into shape as walking became our main source of transportation.

It’s crazy to look back on all that now. We were four months without a vehicle in a city we’d never lived in before, without family and scarcely any friends about us. In that time, God provided the means to meet people, orchestrating one divine appointment after the other, rides to church on Sundays, borrowed cars for Christmas trees excursions, and state insurance to cover my maternity care. Our year here has been a product of miracles. We got ourselves a car in February with money we’d not foreseen to be ours upon our Spokane departure. (You can read about that miracle in my entry “The Car From Jesus” on my Wordpress blog.) Danny was hired upon interview at a full time seasonal job, that later became permanent part-time, only three weeks after we’d moved. Another job was thrown in his lap in mid-December and came into effect mid-January when we needed it most. These two jobs he worked part-time until, the latter becoming full-time in May. Our beautiful baby girl, Ellena Avily, was born June 1^st. And only weeks after, Danny was completely surprised by a call from our church offering him a full time position working in their tech department (audio, video.) We came to find this as God’s perfect hand orchestrating life once again (He never stops) and so we find ourselves quickly approaching our one-year anniversary in Medford.

We’re not sure what God has for us next. This last year has been one of processing amidst this process of life. I found the much-needed time away was one of hashing out past hurts and lingering baggage. It wasn’t all that I anticipated, definitely lengths apart from any mountaintop experience I could’ve thought up. And yet God knew what was needed and knew “the new life” would take a dark time of muddling through a lot of mess otherwise left simmering. The past two years or so claimed a rather depressing season of fear and frustration. And yet, the revelations and the work God brought about became the new life budding and taking shape. And I now find myself more or less on the other side of this looming oppression drawing yet nearer to something altogether new. I feel readied. I feel a fresh yearning for steadfastness of purpose, for vision. I find the Lord has strengthened and continues to ground our marriage, opening us to a richness undiscovered and a depth that would always go on. He's drawn us to further definition as people and adults, as a man and a woman, husband and wife. He's still teaching me that intimacy with Him is real: He is doing life with us daily, He maintains His purposes and our relationship with Him, He is love and He is grace. And the Gospel is not something we move on from but live within each day. God continues to revive this hope that all to be had with Him only extends onward, the richness floods to eternity, life becomes fuller. I hope on in these things.

It’s a strange season still, different than any other. We’ve felt as though foreigners in this city. Though we’ve come to “settle in” there’s a “settling” that will not be had. Medford is not the end of the story; we’ve known that from the beginning. In fact, I feel a distance growing that I can’t quite figure out. Though our life is here for now, our hearts seem otherwise engaged. We seek to remain faithful to what God has called us to and where, which for now is here in Medford. But there’s a sense of not belonging and this strange feeling we never fully will. We’ve battled with it throughout our year here. And yet, we’ve never understood if that’s what God intended all along. Isolation was necessary for the work He wanted to do. I needed to be “taken away” to be with HIM. So, in answering the last two of my posed questions, Medford is fine for now, but it’s not our dream home nor a place we find ourselves loving and enjoying beyond others. We live here and have met wonderful people, have experienced crazy things, beautiful provision, needed revelation. We’ve experienced life with Jesus. Danny enjoys his job, and yet we both know his, and our, ministry is not all encompassed in audio and video. We know we’re called to “ministry,” meaning, working and investing at a church or something similar. And this is where God has led us for this season. We desire all that He has for this time and place. I long to receive it more fully. And so we wait on Him. And stay tuned for the next chapter.  But for now, we live in Medford.