Who's Responsible?

Dr. Eggerichs ends the Love and Respect DVDs with an important final point: “My response is my responsibility.”

We are to love our spouse or respect our spouse, as unto the Lord, which means it’s not really about that person. It’s about my relationship with God and whether I’m going to be obedient to what He’s asked me to do.

What has He asked?

The message is real clear in Ephesians 5:33: Husbands, love your wives, and Wives, respect your husband.

It’s not easy—but it’s not rocket science. 

So this phrase, “My response is my responsibility,” reminds me I’m in control of my own action and not anyone else’s.

It makes me think of my favorite Danny Silk quote: “The only person I can control on a good day is me.”

Although in the heat of an argument, it’s so tempting to assert that our husbands are making us mad, or hurt, or whatever it is we’re feeling, the truth is, they’re not. We are choosing to feel the way we feel.

Even if your hubs is in the wrong, you’re still choosing your response.

So I’ve been thinking about this message—how great and wonderful it sounds and how very hard it is to practice—and I feel like the Lord showed me that this concept is deeply tied to our identity.

If I know who I am in Chris, then I am secure. I don’t have to defend myself, assert my position, compete, manipulate, or exasperate.

Whatever the circumstance—and really, this truth applies beyond marriage, if I am confident in my position as a child of God, as covered by His righteousness, as whole, complete, lacking nothing, then I’m free to not react or respond in any way except the one He’s called me to.

Regardless of how unloving an action or a statement might feel, if I’m certain of God’s love for me and if that’s enough, really enough, to satisfy me, then I’m not empty in that moment. I’m not in need of approval or affirmation.

And even if our husbands' actions don’t feel loving, we can, from that confidence in our identity, still choose to offer respect in response.

God has asked us to respect our husband, and when we do it, we’re honoring and obeying Him. So if it feels hard in those moments, when your man has stepped on your air hose, remember who God says you are, and remember how He feels about you!

My prayer, friends, is that we would come to a greater, richer understanding of who we are in Christ, that our identity would be rooted into the depths of our hearts. May we know how deep and far and wide His love is. Unfailing. Never ending. Unconditional. May we encounter Him, keeping our connection full.

When the Word Tests You

"Until the word of the Lord came to pass, the word tested [Joseph]." Psalm 105:19

I've been meditating on this verse all week. It's a favorite of mine, and in the past I've always used it to encourage us to have faith in the gap.

You know, the gap of confrontation, that hole between when God gives you a word or a dream or a promise and when He accomplishes it.

In that place, you learn to stand on God's word, to declare His truth and His promises over your circumstances, over your feelings, over your enemy.

I know that gap because I've been in it for five years.

We've heard God that we'll be parents, and we know He's going to give us children.

So we continue to wait and trust His plan., and when I feel discouraged, Psalm 105:19 is my go-to verse.

But this week, I've meditated on it for a different gap. Maybe I'll call it the writer's gap.

I know He's put this dream in my heart. In fact, I believe He's called me to write, which is why I named this blog "Obeying the Call."

I'd spent many years hiding from my calling, and I started this blog--six years ago--as an act of obedience.

Do you know what happens when we step out in faith and do something?

Well, sometimes we get tested.

I have so much that is calling for my attention now that it's a test to even write.

I'm not saying that I'm in disobedience if I don't write. I'm not out of God's will if I'm
not popping out book chapters or blog posts.

That's not God's heart.

The truth is, I feel free when I write. It relaxes my mind and brings joy to my heart and refreshes my soul.

Even if I'm not writing to share the words, the act itself blesses me and draws me closer to God.

It seems natural, then, that I might face opposition before getting to that place of serenity, of chosen time, of consecrated words, pushing pen across paper or clicking keys to a screen.

Wiring in this season might look differently than it did this summer, when I could devote entire days to working on and editing my book.

That's okay. In fact, I have to be okay with that.

But I believe writing--finding time to write, regardless if it's to be shared or to be cherished--is a battle I'll have to fight and overcome.

It's a conscious decision I'll have to make, and it's not about the words, where they'll go or what they'll say. It's about me and my heart and my joy.

What about you, friend?

Do you have a dream God has put in your heart? Do you find yourself in the gap of confrontation?

I pray you'll dwell on His word, His truth for your life.

Keep dreaming. Keep fighting for your dreams. He is faithful.

That time I got over myself and said, Yes!

Y’all, I’m so prideful, but I love when God moves above and beyond and around me. I love when my eyes are opened, and I see him patiently waiting. There’s no foot tapping, watch checking, or brow-raising. 

A smile. A wink. A gentle, “Are you ready now?”

Last summer—June 7 to be exact—we came home from a trip to find our upstairs carpet soaking wet and our downstairs ceiling falling out from the standing water. 

No big deal. Isn’t this is why we have insurance?

Then we found out we had mold—and not just a little mold that you throw some bleach on, but like a whole section of mold that had to be professionally treated.

And, these geniuses didn’t have mold coverage. (Who needs it in our dry West Texas climate?)

So instead, we took estimates, and I started breathing in a bag because suddenly we were going to be paying $30,000 just for the mold abatement.

I didn’t blog about our predicament. I didn’t post pictures on Facebook or Instagram of the ugliness. (We only post the pretty stuff, right?)

I wanted to crawl into the fetal position and close my eyes and hope that when I opened them, it would all be fixed and repaired and my house would be normal again.

I won’t go into all the lessons from our little leaky, moldy experience. (Abridged version: I learned more than I wanted about waiting and trusting God with the unknown, and God saved the day in so many ways through amazing people who did not charge what those original estimates were.)

But I want to focus this post on the connection between a woman’s heart and her home. Until recently, I did not realize how delicately intertwined these were.

I’m an introvert, and proudly so. I’m not a big crowds person. I’m not even a party person. But I love having people in my home. I love cooking and serving and having fellowship and meaningful conversations with a small group of people.

It’s how I connect.

But after June 5, I was too ashamed of my house, embarrassed by the ceiling and the holes and the mess everywhere.

Although the mold was taken care of the very next week, our house wasn’t “put back together” until, well, now. (And the truth is, our upstairs room still isn’t finished. *grimace*)

In the room upstairs, the walls and ceiling had to be torn out and re-done, and in the living room downstairs, the ceiling had to be re-done—none of which happened until September (i.e. 4 months later).

In our den, we had a whole different problem that also required waiting for repairs. Our roof was (finally!) partially repaired in October, and since then until now (i.e. another 3 months later), we’ve had plywood boards covering part of the ceiling.

If you saw it all, consider yourself family because what I’m trying to say is this:

My house was in disarray (and I don’t mean junk mail piles) for over seven months, and for over seven months, I did not invite anyone over for coffee or lunch or dinner or anything. That's more than half the year, y'all!

My connection levels tanked.

So here’s where the really humbling part comes in…

In October, we were asked if we wanted to host for life group again. The truth is, my spirit immediately said, “Yes! I miss hosting!” And my heart said, “Uh, but my house?”

So I pushed back on that—even though my sweet hubs thought we should do it.

I told my closest friends, “But, my house??”

They nudged me and offered repeated replies like, “Oh Laura, no one cares.”

In the midst of this, the person we were waiting on to do the last ceiling repairs—you know, the room with the plywood inside—told us he could come in mid to late January, which would most certainly be after life groups started.

I pushed back a little more.

And then finally, when the decision had to be made about hosting, I did something I hadn’t done yet.

I surrendered. And I cried a little. And I repented for being so vain and superficial. And I said yes to whatever God wanted for us.

And my sweet Heavenly Father showed me my heart and my home, woven together. While there was some ugliness (and vanity) there, my heart was also genuine in wanting to serve others not with the disheveled mess but with only the best of me, my heart and my home.

I forgot that He makes everything beautiful.

So that was November, and since then I finally resolved that come January 6, we would open our house for life group, plywood ceilings and all.

Despite that we were “under construction,” I prayed that God would move in our hearts and in anyone’s heart who entered our home.

In other words, I got over myself, and I let it go.

And you know what? Over Christmas break, our amazing contractor called to ask if he could come earlier. (I cried.)

By January 6 at 7 p.m., my plywood was gone. My home was warm and welcoming again.

I am still a little saddened that I let 7 months go by without inviting anyone into my home. But I’m thankful for the lessons I learned in this season—about waiting, about living in the midst of uncertainty, about humbling my pride, and best of all, about seeing God move.

So, for your viewing pleasure, here’s an ugly picture from the upstairs room. (Apparently I couldn’t even bring myself to record pictures of the plywood.) 

Now that I’m all humbled, who wants to come over?

Cleansing 10 Lepers; Healing One Soul

I was reading this morning in Luke 17: 11-19 about Jesus healing 10 lepers (read the whole story here), and a few things stood out to me:

1) All 10 lepers cry out to Jesus to be healed. We have to ask, to make our request. I saw a tweet today that said God will not answer 100% of the prayers you don't pray.

2) Jesus gives them a command: to go and show themselves to the priest. At this point, they are still lepers. Can you imagine walking away from Jesus, thinking, But I'm still a leper? How can I present myself to the priest? But the Word says "As they went, they were cleansed." They had to go first in obedience. Then they were healed.

The Greek word for cleansed here (v. 14) literally means 'to cleanse from filth, to make clean from leprosy." The other word used here for healed (v. 15) means 'to heal, cure, restore to bodily health." On both accounts, we're talking about a physical healing.

3) Of the 10, only one returns to Jesus to give thanks.

4) To the one who offers thanks, to the one who is grateful, Jesus declares him well. Other translations include "whole." The Greek word here is sozo. A beautiful word that means "to save" in other places of scripture, in other places where we link saving to salvation. However, this word also means "heal, preserve, be (make) whole."

This is the same word used in Romans 10:9 that if we confess with our mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in our heart that God raised Him from the dead, we will be saved [sozo]. and in Romans 10:13: "For everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved [sozo]."

There are three words in this passage that can all be translated in other places of scripture as 'healed.' But only one man received sozo healing.

I'm awake

I have had this blog for two years because I had to "blog" for a class I took. But (obviously) I haven't written anything in a while.

However, I know that I have been called to write. And for the last several years, I have done everything to run from that calling. But it's time to stop. So, this is me--stepping out in obedience.

More to come later...