The Enemy of Our Souls

We don’t think about the devil much.

Maybe it’s because we’ve been ruined by costumed children with red horns at Halloween. Or, maybe it’s because just like God, we can’t see Lucifer. Out of sight, out of mind. That kind of thing. Or, more likely: it’s because the thought of evil personified makes us all a little bit squeamish on the insides. Truly, the idea that there is an “enemy to our souls” is throttling.

It’s hard to envision an enemy that hasn’t been provoked. After all, what did we do? We didn’t rear end Satans car in traffic. We didn’t steal his parking place while shopping at Christmastime. We didn’t break his daughter’s heart, (I’m fairly sure he has no daughters), we didn’t loiter on his property. It’s difficult to understand, especially if you are the peace-maker type, why an entity would be your enemy without reason.

It’s good for us to remember, however, that there will be no peace in this area. Not with this man.

I’ve always been the type that didn’t understand why Satan would want to have anything to do with me. I was just me, minding my own business, loving God and trying to glorify Him in my sphere. I mean, I didn’t even rear end his car. It seemed fairytale-ish, childish even to blame freakout moments on “the devil”. If and when attacks from the enemy came, I would brush them off as something I ate, or stress, or a weakness on my part. I wouldn’t war against the enemy, because I was fairly sure the enemy was me.

Some of my heros in ministry, however, have taught me differently. John Eldredge writes emphatically that “we are at war.” And that there is an “enemy” who will stop at nothing to take the life that God has promised us. Beth Moore write that at different points in time attacks from the enemy were devastating, and would nearly cripple her with fear. Joyce Meyer speaks the same thoughts. Paul warns that our war is not against flesh and blood, but against the dark forces of this fallen world.

A few weeks ago I was up all night. Anxieties, nightmares, fears kept me up until sunrise. A week later it happened again. It was exhausting and frustrating, because I have learned a great deal about “taking thoughts captive” and so such chaotic thoughts seemed bizarre to me. It suddenly dawned on me that possibly it was an attack. Perhaps, in God’s kingdom I had moved from being on Satan’s radar to being a full fledged threat.

Spiritually speaking, I had rammed my car into the back of his. And he was pissed about it.

Over the last 4 months the ministry I pastor, FUEL has grown by leaps and bounds. Earlier this year, we saw our first salvations. A few weeks later, dozens of college and 20somethings “went public” with their faith in baptism. I was getting the opportunity to speak more, and God was moving throughout the church. God was giving me more responsibility, and I was taking it humbly and pursuing His glory in all of it.

John & Staci Eldredge, on the eve of their book launch “Love & War” experienced heavy spiritual attack from the enemy. Beth Moore, after completing her very first bible study was haunted by anxieties and nightmares for months. My ministry grows and God is moving and lives are changing and suddenly I am haunted by nightmares and wild thoughts and visions. Odd.

Satan’s attack, for me, suddenly became a back-handed compliment. I’m doing something right.

God’s moving, I get to be a part of it, Satan’s not happy.

Scripture tells us that at times God will allow Satan to “sift” us like wheat. Which honestly sounds terrible. And having experienced it I can say it is. But God also promises that what Satan intends for harm God will work out for our good, and for His own glory. Suddenly the attack isn’t scary, but validating. Not only that, but we can rest assured that God will turn the attack into something amazing. Something huge. Something victorious.

My hope is that people reading this take heart. If you are feeling pressed down, be encouraged. You have most likely moved from being on the radar to being a full-fledged threat. Be encouraged, you are doing something right. If you are feeling attacked, take rest in the knowledge that God will take what is meant for harm and turn it into glory. You’ll have stories to tell after this one.

May the God of all comfort speak encouragingly to you today. May you take up your sword in what is truly a war, and may God multiply your efforts and bring glory to His name through you. You’re a threat!

Throwing in the Towel

As a child I played with some boys up the street. I grew up in a white-trashy part of town. People had small plots of land, but that didn’t stop them from filling their yards with broke-down vehicles, chickens and other live-stock. Most of the kids in my neighborhood came from one-parent households, or had just the opposite problem: 12+ family members living under one room. Such was the case with the Imers. The Imers were a rowdy bunch. There were four boys in the family, but it always seemed like there were more hooligans than just those four at any given point in time. The oldest was just learning to drive and had strapped a couch to the back of his pick-up truck to carry around more friends. The youngest was probably a year or two older than I was, and I considered him a play-mate. All of them owned bee-bee guns.

One afternoon, I wandered up the street to find the boys and play whatever game they were playing. An hour later I ran home bawling. Somehow, I had gotten shot with a bee-bee somewhere in my lower back. My cries had been loud enough that my dad left his office desk in the house and had met me at the door. Collapsing in his arms my dad attempted to console me. All I could manage to get out was that the boys wouldn’t let me play with them, and that they had shot me in the back. Through my sobs I repeated what I’m sure every child in America has said at some point:

“They won’t… let me… play with them, daddy.”

The reality is, is that I always felt at home with boys growing up. A lot of the time I felt tougher than they were, truth be told. I didn’t cry much, I liked scary adventures out into the park by our house, I liked getting dirty, I wasn’t afraid of crawdad pinchers. I played a lot with my dad, and that included getting under the car with him, riding around in his truck shifting the 5-speed, running around the house with my shirt off like him. I was a tom-boy to-boot. But suddenly, one afternoon changed all that. Suddenly, I didn’t want to play anymore. I just wanted to run home and cry. Suddenly I felt like I didn’t fit, and it hurt. A lot.

Have you ever been in a scenario like that? One that leaves you questioning the very fabric of how you were made? You’re in over your head at work, and suddenly the job you felt competent at seems to be slipping through your fingers. A friendship that has been as close to you as your own ribcage suddenly goes haywire, and you’re afraid. Your rock-solid marriage is suddenly rocked. And it doesn’t feel so solid. And in the back of your mind you’re thinking it’s time to resign. Maybe you’re done, and it’s time to quit. Throw in the towel, run home crying. Call it what it is. You can’t play with them anymore.

That’s what I felt that day. I was distressed and hurt, scared and frustrated. My daddy’s arms were the only place I knew to go in my slew of emotions.

My dad consoled me for a short while. His big gigantic arms covered me as I knelt in the doorway. He was my safe place in my moment of deep insecurity.

Recently, I have been feeling a slew of emotions about my capabilities at some things I feel I was created to do. I’ve been feeling insecure. Unsure. Frustrated. Befuddled. In the last two weeks I have had moments where I wish that my dad was waiting at home, and I could just run into the door and bawl my eyes out, and explain how I wasn’t up for playing anymore. That I was done.

That day I ran home from the Imers my dad sat with me and let me cry. He hugged me and I knew without a doubt I was safe, and that I was loved. My insides relaxed and the sobbing subsided, and then my dad responded. I don’t remember all that he said, but one line stood out more than all the others:

“Ok Jessie, now go show them you can play with them.”

I stood up, took my marching orders, and ran immediately back up to the Imer house. I don’t remember the play time the rest of that day, but I do know I didn’t come home again until dinner.

Sometimes obstacles in life will try and catch us off-guard, take us away from the courage we know and shoot us in the back. In the moment, all we feel is the sting of defeat, and the fear of inadequacy. It takes our breath away, and if you are the crying type, makes you weep. We would do well, however, to remember that we have a Heavenly Daddy. One who is safe. Strong. And has massive arms that we can run into and feel all-at-once restored. He reminds us who we are, reminds us that we are his child, and as such, there are certain things that can strike us down, but never destroy us.

And then, He reminds us that we have His Holy Spirit. An indispensable pool of adequacy and courage, fullness and deity. Truly, there is nothing we can’t do. We are His kids. His Chosen ones. His possession. The apples of His eye. And in Christ, obstacles are conquerable, and all is not lost.

And then he whispers in our ear that it’s time to run back out to play.

“Go show them what you are made of, beloved.”

That day my earthly dad was just reaffirming what he knew to be true about me. I was a tom-boy throughout. Mountains of strength in a little blonde body, 4 feet of courage and fun, fully capable of a day with the Imers. Fully accepted, and therefore able to present myself as acceptable to others.

And I believe our Heavenly Daddy reaffirms the same thing over us: We are loved and beloved, fully pleasing and fully capable. Accepted and therefore able to present ourselves as acceptable to others. Fearless in the face of trials because His perfect love has cast out our fear.

May you walk in His affirmation of you in the face of your obstacles tonight. May your back-side bee-bees always lead you to His loving arms. And when you have had your cry, may you take up His charge to bring His love, strength, courage and power to your Imer boys. Blessings to you Beloved.

Favorite Ministry Moments for 2011

I follow a ministry in Charlotte, NC called Elevation Church. Their lead pastor is a man named Steven Furtick, and he writes a blog that inspires me daily.

Yesterday morning he posted a video blog about his ministry’s highlights from 2011. The blog urges, “celebrate what God has done, as you look ahead to what He is going to do.”

I thought I would thank Jesus for everything He has done in my life in my family’s life, and in my church’s life this past year, as I look ahead to 2012.

#7 – The Compassion Kids

Jon and I have always wanted to sponsor a compassion child. But every time we went to take on a sponsorship, we would back away for one reason or another. Mostly, we didn’t think we could manage the monthly payment. In September our church headed up a Compassion Sunday, a service where our sole focus was sponsoring our partner church in Haiti.

Jon and I cried together throughout the video, and both felt immense peace as we sponsored our first child, Henoc.

This is him – he will turn 4 next week. 🙂 Cute, right?

#6 – Financial Peace

Two summers ago, like lots of people have in this season, my hubby was laid off from his job. A week before he was laid off, we had closed on our first home, and gotten our first “kids” – our two boxers Tank and Stella. Needless to say, we felt throttled. The next year was full of financial worry, as we walked through unemployment and new jobs together.

I feel so grateful to be on the other side of that season. God has brought us financial peace and blessing. All I can say is God is faithful. And is a “more than enough” Provider.

#5 – “I’ve Never Cried In Church Before.”

At our Easter service at Red Rocks Church this year, the staff decided on the theme of “Come Home” – inspired by the parable of the Prodigal Son. It was a powerful time for us as a church. God was so faithful to us, and God moved on His own behalf. That Sunday was about asking anyone, everyone who has walked away from God to come home.

At the end of service, a 16-year old sitting in front of me said to her mom, “wow, I’ve never cried at church before.”

Leaning forward I whispered, “That’s God talking to your heart.”

#4 – The FUEL Retreat 2011

What a ride. It was my first time ever of planning a retreat. Thanks to my team, and to the amazing young adults who attend FUEL, it was a completely blessed weekend. God moved powerfully, worship was glorious (teaching was so-so ;)) and as a result people “collided” with God.

#3 – One Little Hand

This year Andrew, my associate and I decided to have our first ever outreach-focused gathering. Meaning that we invited people – any people who didn’t know God. Andrew gave an amazing message about God’s love, forgiveness and life that is offered to us. At the end, he gave a call to anyone in the room – that if they wanted to receive Christ – tonight was the night. When Andrew asked them to raise their hands if they wanted Jesus as their Lord, I sat at the back of the crowded room looking for hands. The prayer team was waiting to, to spot new believers and pray with them.

No hands went up. Initially, I was a little bummed, but right then I prayed “God, this was for you, thank you for being here tonight.”

At that moment I saw a little hand go up to the right front of the stage. I burst into tears. The story of God leaving the 99 and going after the one came to mind.

#2 – Christmas Joy

Our Christmas Eve services this year at Red Rocks Church were on a different level. There was a Spirit the entire day, as Red Rocks welcomed over 4,400 people through their doors, that could only be described in one word: joyful. Fittingly, the song our talented worship leaders wrote that day was titled “Rejoice“. I spent the entire time greeting friends, meeting new friends and standing in awe of what God has done in our church in a creepy theme park.

#1 Husband and Wife – A Ministry Team

I love being a wife. I love being in ministry. Thankfully, I have a husband who loves his wife, and loves ministry as well. It has been a complete hoot growing together this year as a husband/wife team in full time ministry. When I am weak, he is strong, and when he needs hope, I inspire. God was so good and wise to put us together. I look to many more years of playing on this team.

Looking ahead to 2012 honestly has been intense, because I think in no way can it top 2011. This year alone God has given me so much in my life. But then again, I serve a Father who gives abundantly more than I could have ever asked for or imagine.

Blessings to you and yours this New Year.

A Tale of Two Brothers

Every family has a party boy.

Or girl.

Picture your family for a moment. Your brothers, sisters, cousins, nephews, nieces. I bet you can name at least a couple that have went off the deep end. Drugs. Alcohol. Maybe they had a baby at 16. Maybe they never held down a job. Maybe they stole, from other family members if need be, to pay for their lifestyle.

The family may have never said it, but behind the silence when their name came up at holiday gatherings was a general knowing. They’re a train-wreck. And we all know it.

The thing about party-boys and wild-child-girls, is that their degeneracy is out there flying like a flag in the wind. Or rather, dirty laundry in the wind. Every one can see it. Everyone can smell it.

For the majority of us, however, have a depravity that looks good to the world.

A woman manipulates co-wrokers and family members to get ahead in life. And get ahead she does. A dad zones-out in front of the television to escape the stress of his day – he can run a multi-million dollar corporation but he can’t figure out how to talk to his wife. A 30-something has a glass of wine to deal. Or two. It’s after work, in the quiet of their home, and it’s the only thing that eases the loneliness. A mom is a control freak. She runs PTA and local fundraisers, but at home her husband and kids know all to well that if momma ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.

Maybe you’re a worrier.
Or you fake your way through life.
Maybe you take roles in your church to feel important.
Maybe you eat to deal.
Maybe you work longer hours.

We all have our tendencies that come – not from God, but from an inward force the Bible calls our flesh. Which sounds totally gross. Flesh. Everything we were before we met Him. Not just our choices, good or bad, and not just our sins – but our very selves.

The Younger Brother
Every family has a party boy. We’ll call this one Prod. Prod asks his father for cash. Not just that, but Prod asks for the cash that he would have gotten if and when his father died. I don’t know about you, but I can’t really picture going to my father and asking for the money he would give me when he died. I have a feeling that would put a damper on our relationship.

But Prod does. He goes, asks for the money and leaves. He never calls. Never writes. As far as his family knows, maybe he’s dead. That’s how far off the deep end this guy goes.

While he’s away, he spends money on hookers. Lots of them. He picks up the bar tab. And then hits up another bar. He tries one drug. Then another. He buys things he can’t afford, and soon everyone knows who he is – the guy who picks up bar tabs. He parties. And parties hard, until every twenty-dollar bill is gone.

While sobering up he tries to get part time work, but he can’t pay rent. He goes to his so-called friends for cash, but they’ve moved on to another guy with a nice suit. He goes from eating steak to ramen, and pretty soon his cupboards are bare, and collections are calling his cell phone that’s about to be turned off.

He loses his apartment, and sleeps on a couch for a month, until the friend with the couch kicks him out. He goes to a shelter, to eat. He sleeps in the streets. Pan handles.

At some point, Prod has an awakening inside, and decides that even if his dad is forever angry with him – going home is better than the cold, hard cement. And so he goes home.

The Older Brother
Every family has the do-gooder. We’ll call this one John. When Prod left the house, it was John who consoled his mom, and picked up extra chores around the house. Realizing the opportunity to please his dad even more, John worked, hard to be a good son. The best son. He managed his dad’s second business, took over the laborious parts of the yard work, and did all he could to earn affection from his dad.

The Dad, and the Party
The crazy part about this story is not how different the sons are, but how equally the father would and does lavish gifts of love. See, a party is thrown for the kid who messed up. A big party with lots of food, drink and dancing. A really, really happy party.

John, however, is miffed. What, no party for him? No lavish drink? He was the son who did right. Who done good. Who stood by…

What the dad says here speaks to every human being who tries to “flesh” their way through life to get what they want, or what they need:

My son,’ the father said, ‘you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found. – Luke 15:31-32

Regardless of do-right, or do-wrong, it would seem that neither affect the father’s affection. My Son – you are always with me… everything I have is yours.

Pointless Wrap-Sheets
The tale of two brothers isn’t just about the Prodigal. It’s not really about the older son either. The real star of the show is the Father.

Here the Dad looks at two sets of flesh – one a do-gooder who internally still finds himself wanting, and a party-boy, whose want leads him down a dark path. Both sons grossly misunderstand their Dad. And because of that, try to do their life their way, to get needs met in their fashion.

Can you see yourself in this story yet?

Are you the son or daughter who has wandered far from home? Who has tried desperately to fill a need and a void with worldly affections?

Or are you the elder son or daughter? Whose self-motivated ways are less notable, but no less destructive?

One may look dirtier but they are both the remnants of a broken soul. God doesn’t care about your wrap sheet. Even if you do.

And then we have the Dad. Who in a heart-beat would throw you a party. Who would dress you in fine clothes. Give you a ring. A giant bear-hug. Give you his everything.

May you understand the words of your Daddy God today – that do-gooders and party-boys alike, may approach the throne of grace with confidence. Knowing that their Father is the Father who says:

“You are always with me – everything I have is yours.“