God is shaking me. Stirring me. Which kind of makes me sound like I'm a martini. I don't actually drink martinis (or much of anything for that matter) but I do know that whether to shake or to stir is a hot debate in martini circles. This post is quickly coming off its rails.
That's where we were before I got sidetracked by martinis.
God is reminding me, in a slap-me-upside-the-head-and-shout-"duh" kind of way, that I am not of this world. I don't have to drive around with a giant NOTW sticker on the back of my car for it to be true. I don't have to wear a t-shirt to remember the Gospel of John.
If you belonged to the world, it would love you as its own. As it is, you do not belong to the world, but I have chosen you out of the world. That is why the world hates you. John 15:19.
I worry, y'all. (A friend of mine saw me type the word y'all and thought it was a Utah thing since, clearly, I didn't learn this speech behavior in California. Truth is, I didn't learn it in Utah either. I just think it's fun. I also sometimes like to call a barbecue a barbie but I've never even been to Australia.)
I worry kind of a lot.
So much so that I've talked about it at retreats and conferences. I know I'm not supposed to do it. I know the proper coping mechanisms and, truthfully, if I'm actually trying, they work. I know what Scripture to turn to. Still, I find myself worrying that I'm not pleasing others, that I'm not a good enough wife, mother, daughter, sister, pastor's wife, daughter-in-law, sister-in-law, friend, restaurant patron. I actually worry about these things. I worry that I'm not applying myself properly. I worry that I won't be able to afford braces for Matthew and goodness does he ever need them.
And so, a few days ago, God had to totally shake me up. And I remembered that my worth is found in Him and Him alone. When I compare myself to others, no good can come. When I compare, I essentially say that my goal is to be like the world, of the world.
I don't want to be of the world. This world is ugly. The world compromises the truth of my Savior. The world says that my shorts are too long and my hair is too straight and my sunglasses aren't cool and my face needs work.
"Everything I am for your kingdom's cause..." means that I have to give it all to God. Not just some of it. Not just the parts I'm willing to let go of. Everything.
If He calls me to pick up my life and move to India (a place, mind you, that I have absolutely no desire to go), I go. Even if the world says that's insane.
If He calls me to minister right here, I stay.
If He calls me to be poor, I celebrate. Even if that's not a worldly reaction.
If He calls me to be rich, I give liberally. Even if the world wouldn't.
If He calls me to many small ministries, I minister.
If He calls me to one big ministry, I minister.
But this is not easy. If you think that pastor's wives are immune to times of desiring the world, you're wrong. But every time I start thinking about the world, I find myself in the desert. When I'm in the fire, I cling to Christ. When I'm in the battle, I hide behind Him. But when I'm in the desert, I can go days without feeling him. "Are you here, God?" I finally call out. "Because I don't feel you."
"I'm here," He whispers. "I haven't gone anywhere. You're senses are numbed by the world. It needs to be enough for you to know that I am here until you can see me and feel me."
I open my eyes and blink in the blinding sun. When my eyes adjust I ask, "God, why is there a giant dent in the dirt where I've just come from?"
I am so thankful that I have a Lord who will never leave me. I am so glad that He resorts to dragging me through the desert when He has to. Hallelujah! What a Savior!