Who Is This Jesus? (Part 6): One Who Calls

I find it interesting that Jesus calls each person to follow him but that each call is particular.

Following Jesus can take a multitude of forms, but each life that follows Jesus involves a true encounter with Jesus, a mutual knowing of the truth of who we are before him, and an ability to hear and respond to what he asks or invites of us from there.

Zacchaeus was a tax collector, for instance. (See Luke 19:1-10.) He was the chief tax collector in his town, in fact, which meant he was very rich at the expense of everyone else. The tax collectors were notoriously crooked, demanding greater taxes than the state required so as to line their own pockets with the difference. 

He was not very popular, to say the least. 

But when Jesus called Zacchaeus, it made a difference in the specific way he lived. He determined to give half his riches to the poor and pay back those he had wronged financially four-fold. 

Then there’s Peter.

Peter was a fisherman all his life. Fishing is what he knew best and how he made a living. And when Jesus called Peter to follow him, it affected Peter’s life: “From now on you’ll be fishing for men and women” (Luke 5:10). And then later on, Jesus shifted Peter’s work again, telling him he would now become a shepherd: “Feed my lambs … Shepherd my sheep … Feed my sheep,” he told Peter (John 21:15-18).

What did Peter know about sheep-tending? He had been a fisherman all his life. 

But since that initial call to follow Jesus, he had learned more about what that following meant. He’d followed Jesus around for three years. He’d listened to Jesus teach, watched Jesus heal, witnessed so many miracles, and encountered the resurrected Christ. He’d been humbled and forgiven. And now it was time for Peter’s specific way of following Christ to become more particular to the person he’d become since that first call, so he was now being called to be a shepherd. 

The gospels are filled with stories like this. Each person, each encounter, each question, each search … every story is the encounter of a particular person coming in contact with Jesus and receiving an invitation to a particular call.

For someone who encountered Jesus in the midst of a particular sin, the call was to go and sin no more. For someone who’d been paralyzed their whole life, the call was to take up their mat and walk. For someone who was a social outcast because of their lifestyle and avoided contact with others at all costs, the call was to go into the town square and proclaim what had happened to everyone there. And, like Peter, the more we follow Christ, the more our particular call shifts as we continue becoming the people Jesus is continually making us to be.

Jesus invites us to follow him, and he tailors the call of that invitation to the place we currently are.

What does it look like for you to follow Jesus in this very moment? What is the particular call from him, right where you are?

Who Is This Jesus? (Part 5): One Who Sees the Truth and Gazes On It With You

Henri Nouwen talks about prayer of the heart being a way of prayer in which we “descend with the mind into the heart, and there to stand before the face of the Lord, ever-present, all-seeing, within you.” 

Imagine that: going into the very truth of yourself and seeing what is there, while simultaneously knowing Jesus to be there, too, gazing on what is there with you. 

You may find this terrifying. And I think I did for many years in my life with God, too. We are often scared of the truth of ourselves, and inviting the God of the universe to see that truth with us can seem like a purely crazy thing to do. 

Unless our view of the truth and our view of God with us in that encounter of truth changes.

I really love noticing the way Jesus encounters people in the pages of the gospels when considering this.

When Jesus meets the Samaritan woman at the well, he’s fully present to the conversation. He listens and genuinely responds to everything she says to him and asks of him. And then, in the midst of this conversation, he speaks the truth of her life to her: she has had five husbands and is now living with a man who isn’t her husband.

First she finds out that all this time he’s been talking to her, he’s known this truth about her and still continued the conversation. And then, when he speaks this truth out loud, he does so in such a measured tone.

There’s no condemnation in his words, only the spoken truth. 

And what’s more, even after he speaks this truth to her out loud — the truth that made her an outcast in her community — he goes on to continue their conversation. 

This must have totally turned the woman’s world upside-down.

Not only did someone speak to her without flinching or castigating her for the thing that made her a social pariah, but the person behaving this generously toward her, she soon came to find out, was the long-awaited Messiah. No wonder she ran into the village and started telling everyone she met about him!

And then there’s the example of the woman caught in adultery.

When the Pharisees dragged this woman before Jesus, his eyes don’t blaze in fury, nor does he hurl her from his presence in disgust. Instead, he kneels down and begins to write in the dirt with his finger — so calm and unobtrusive a response — while continuing to listen to the badgering crowd.

Then he makes a calm-as-can-be comment to them, straightens up, and asks the woman where her accusers have gone. 

Just like what happened with the Samaritan woman at the well, Jesus has a direct encounter with this woman who was standing before him in the naked, unhidden truth of her sin, and his response was not to flee or rail or turn away in disgust or cast her from his presence. Instead, he calmly and quietly asked her a question as they hold the truth of her life out in the open between them. 

There is a calmness to Jesus in these encounters that teaches us so much about what it is really like to encounter the truth of ourselves with Jesus, too. 

Jesus is not afraid of the truth of your heart. He will not turn away from any of the truth that you encounter there. He will not minimize it or pretend it isn’t there, either. He will look at it, and then he will look at you, and then the two of you will look at it together. 

And then you’ll talk. And you’ll continue to talk. And his posture toward you will never change.

Who Is This Jesus? (Part 4): One Who Removes Our Shame

Today I’m going to share with you a part of my story I don’t write often about. It has to do with my having been married before sharing my life with Kirk.

In 2004, I went through a divorce. 

We had been married 6 years, the last year of which was spent with about six states separating us, and the marriage and divorce are among the most difficult parts of the journey I have lived.

I can look back now and see the whole of it through a lens of healing and forgiveness — both of which were quite hard-won — and I can also see that neither of us knew much about what we were doing in our life together but were doing the best we could with what we had.

Today, I want to talk about the impact the divorce had on me and how it affected my life with God and my understanding of Jesus.

I remember how precious that year of separation and the first six months of my divorce were in my life with God. I was living on my own for the first time and had rented a tiny guesthouse in the historic district near my hometown. Every day, I would go in and out of my little guesthouse, conscious that I was learning what it meant to be the bride of Christ instead of someone else’s bride.

I was learning through that time, too, what it meant to be feminine and lovely to God, and so I began to wear clothes that deepened my ongoing awareness of that reality: pants in pastel colors of pinks and greens and purples, with various textures like velvet and corduroy and appliques like satin sash belts. I wore layers of blouses and jackets, too, and enjoyed the detail of ruffles and pearl buttons and chiffon overlays of my clothing.

And almost every night before bed, I would settle into my little twin bed inside that tiny guesthouse and read the words of Psalm 139 over and over again.

In all of this, I knew that God was teaching me my value.

But even still, underneath all that tender engagement with God, there was a seed of shame. 

No matter how much I had fought against divorce, still here I was: divorced. I was divorced without having chosen to be so, and I could do nothing to change it. Divorce seemed like the worst possible outcome for my marriage, and I couldn’t imagine the depth of God’s disappointment when he looked down upon me and saw that blight upon my life. 

I felt at a loss for how to hold this, and so at some point, I sat down with a pastor from my church to talk about it.

We sat on a planter outside the church after one of the services, and I told him how ashamed I felt. I told him that it seemed like the whole of my life going forward from here was counterfeit, since I was walking a path God never would have chosen for me.

God was in Plan A, but the divorce had averted me to Plan B — so now what worth could my life have to God?

I’ll never forget what the pastor said to me that day.

He looked at me and said, “Christianne, when God looks down from heaven at you, he doesn’t say, ‘There’s Christianne, my divorced daughter.’ He says, ‘There’s Christianne, my daughter.’ He doesn’t see your divorce. That’s what Jesus died for.” 

This was the first time what Jesus did on the cross really clicked for me. 

So much of my life, as I’ve shared before, had to do with perfectionism and performing well. I had sinned, definitely, and had asked forgiveness for my sins. But since everything I did was driven by a motive to outshine every possible standard, my heart never really got in touch with the depth of my humanity or sinfulness.

What’s more, the especially difficult sins in my life were practically invisible to me — I couldn’t hold the truth of them because that truth was too painful to admit. 

This is why I couldn’t understand grace. And that is why, in that single conversation with my pastor, I understood grace for the very first time. 

The reality of Christ’s death on the cross removes every single mark of shame upon our lives. Because of Jesus, we can now live in pure, unadulterated, enjoyable communion with God.

This is something that makes me amazed and in awe of Jesus.

Who Is This Jesus? (Part 3): One Who Made & Delights in Us

I mentioned earlier in this series that I was just about to enter my junior year in college when I came face to face with a truth about my lifelong faith: I didn’t really understand it in a personal way. One of the most true and heartfelt prayers that I’d ever uttered up to that point came out: “God, please teach me my need for Jesus and for grace.” 

This took me on a very long journey. 

Through the reading of that book and the realization that I really didn’t get what grace really was, I started to examine so much about my life — the way I felt, the way I thought, the way I acted, and what was underneath all of that feeling and thinking and acting. 

I became quite overwhelmed with the realities I encountered inside of me. For about two years, I went deep inside myself to learn what was there. And what I learned — which I’d not really grappled with before — was how much everything I did was rooted in perfectionism and performance. Everything — and I mean everything — was tied to an urgent need to do things perfectly, to shine, and to be loved in all that shininess. 

This bled into my life with God, too. 

Once I saw that my life with others and with God was based so wholistically on performance, I put on the brakes. I stopped doing. I stopped performing. I stopped going, going, going. I barely went to church. I stopped connecting to God in the usual ways I’d always done. I let myself curse out loud for the first time in my adult life, and I contemplated what it would be like to take up smoking. (This may sound silly, but it’s true.)

All of this was part of a lived prayer: God, show me that you love me beyond my performance. Teach me what it means to be unconditionally loved by you. 

Two years into this journey, I graduated college and started working full-time. Pretty quickly out of the gate, I was working two jobs — one full-time and one part-time — and I came face to face with the reality of my anxiety struggle. 

I think I was made acutely aware of my anxiety struggle at that time because I’d spent the previous two years realizing how performance-based my entire life had been. I was in the midst of trying to learn God’s unconditional love for me instead — how to be loved beyond my functions and accomplishments — but was suddenly working 60+ hours every week and trying to learn how to be a professional for the very first time.  

Cue anxiety and struggle and pain and turmoil and fear. Every. Single. Day.

One night, I spent an evening with a group of female college students. They were enrolled in the honors program for which I was the adjunct faculty director of the writing program. They were hosting a discussion night with all the female faculty of the program, and each of the faculty were invited to bring one of our favorite books around which to host a small group discussion with the female students. 

At the time, my favorite book was Denise Levertov’s collection, The Stream and the Sapphire, so I photocopied a few of my favorite poems from the collection and headed to the event. The female population of the program were milling about, chatting with each other and the other faculty, and I could feel the anxiety in me begin heighten. (I really am no good at small talk events.)

Then, shortly before the event was set to begin, one of the student coordinators approached me and asked if I would be willing to share my discussion group with another faculty member’s group, as only one person had signed up for my group. 

Ouch. That was a humbling moment. 

Another humbling moment came in the midst of the actual discussion group. The other faculty member had been able to generate with seeming ease quite a bit of discussion around the book she’d brought, even though no one in the group had read it before, but the discussion of the poems I had brought, despite having brought several for us to look at together, seemed to fall flat. 

I left the event feeling so much shame. 

On my drive home down the 5 freeway, I cried so hard.

I yelled at God: “What do you want from me? How do I do this? You say that you love me unconditionally, but I don’t know what that means. All I feel is failure and embarrassment. I don’t feel like I’ll ever be good enough. I don’t know how to get outside of this performance struggle.”

And somehow in the midst of all those tears and verbal explosions, something new happened. 

I can’t explain how it happened, but suddenly I was in the middle of an invitation to consider all the ways that God had made me — unique and creative and particular-to-me ways of being. 

My care for people. 

My ability to listen well. 

My love of writing. 

My enjoyment of sushi.

My fear of spiders. 

All of these particularities about myself started coming to mind, and I realized consciously for the first time: God made me this way, and all these particulars — no matter how big or small in size — delight him to no end. They’re what make me uniquely Christianne. 

When I exited the freeway, I pulled into a fast-food parking lot, dried my eyes, and marveled at this new realization. God loves me for who I am.

Scripture tells us that Jesus is the origin of all creation. It says that everything came into being through him and that nothing came into existence without him (see John 1:3 and Colossians 1:15-18).

We were created by and through Jesus. And what he created in us — who we simply are — delights him endlessly.

Who Is This Jesus? (Part 2): One Who Is Humble

I’ve just begun reading the book of Revelation as part of my morning devotions. This is the book, perhaps above any other book in Scripture, where we see the holiness, the majesty, the utter God-ness of Jesus. He centrally figures above all else — high above all else — in that narrative. All else in existence falls at his feet and worships him. 

He is truly the highest height of all awareness and existence, and Revelation demonstrates that reality with such clarity for us.

With the start of the Advent season just over a week ago, we are invited to notice an interesting contrast here. These four weeks leading to Christmas are a time of preparation and expectation, a time when we think about the coming of Jesus into the world as a babe on Christmas and as the savior of the world, while also looking ahead — and continuing to prepare ourselves — for his return.

Revelation depicts with such rich imagery that second return of Jesus into the world. There, we will see the fullness of his majesty and reign. We will see how truly great he is. We will see him as the ruler and origination of all that exists in creation.

But this morning, it is the humility of Jesus in his first coming that I’m reminded of. 

On a particular night, at a particular time, in a particular place, and in a particular body, Jesus became human. He became human — just like us. And he chose to start at the beginning, as a baby — just like we do.

What is that about?

Why would the highest crown of all existence become enfleshed in human form — and in the form of a baby, no less? Why would he choose to develop in a body the same way all of us must develop in our own bodies, one limb after another growing into itself with each passing year? Why would he choose to learn a language from its first stammers and stutters, just as all of us must learn our own languages from the start? Why would he let go of all the knowledge of all existence that he holds inside himself, only to start from scratch in knowing nothing, building one structure of thought and knowledge on top of itself, just like we must do?

It was — and is — for love of us. His love for us created a willing humility.

We will continue to reflect on that love in the continuation of this series. I hope you’ll continue to join us.

Who Is This Jesus? (Part 1)

Click here to read all entries in this series.

I will confess that I didn’t realize I would be writing a series on this Jesus I’ve come to know until the post that introduced that series had pretty much written itself last Friday. Sometimes that happens — I pray about what to write here, and then once I start writing it, something extra comes out I didn’t expect.

This new series on Jesus happened that way.

So I’ve been holding the newness of this series close the last few days, wondering what it will include and how to enter into it.

One of the big questions I’ve been holding is whether these reflections on Jesus will start in the Scriptures or in the experiences of my life (or both?). And I am still holding that question, and perhaps I will hold it every single day the series remains underway. Perhaps the answer Jesus gives to that question will be different from day to day. 

But for today, the answer to that question is to share a personal reflection of this Jesus I’ve come to know.

Accordingly, below are two video segments that I recorded recently for a project at Northland Church called Hope Changes. It is a project that marries stories from real-life people and the hope of Scripture as an offering to people walking through painful emotional and spiritual struggles, and I was privileged to work on the development team for this project over the last six months and also share my story as a contribution.

The two video segments below go together, then — the first segment shares a very personal struggle I’ve grappled with for many years, and the second segment shares stories of how Jesus has met me in that struggle in some very personal and very special ways. 

Part 1: 

Part 2: 

Jesus has become so dear to me. My hope is that, in some way, he also becomes dear to you, perhaps as we continue to reflect on him together.

Let's Reflect on Jesus

I’m not sure if you know the story of how I came into an intimate relationship with Jesus. It’s a story that begins, in great measure, with a very honest prayer that rose up from my heart in August 1998. I was 19 years old, about to enter my junior year of college, and I had finally gotten around to reading a book that one of my professors had given me in a previous semester.

Reading that book changed my life.

It was not the book’s intention, I don’t think, to bring me face to face with my lack of understanding of grace and of Jesus, but that’s exactly what it did. One afternoon, while sprawled on top of my bed in my apartment, reading the book, that realization became so real that the book fell from my hands and I bowed my head and confessed to God: “I don’t understand my need for grace, and I don’t understand my need for Jesus.” 

I had known Jesus my whole life. I don’t have any memory of life without him, in fact. I was always aware of his presence near me, even as a very, very young girl. But the circumstances of my life and some of the natural proclivities of my way of being conspired to take me on a very long journey — the long way around, you might say — to finally understanding my personal need for both. 

I’ve been reflecting on that very honest prayer of 13 years ago a lot lately. I’ve been struck by God’s incredible faithfulness to answer it. I think God continues to answer it every day, in fact, because my awareness of my need for grace and for Jesus only continue to grow. 

Why am I sharing this with you? 

Because my life and mind and heart are full — so full — of Jesus these days, and I want you to know this Jesus, too. 

For the next little while, I am going to be using the daily posts in this space to reflect on this Jesus I have come to know. It is my prayer that these reflections will create an opportunity for you to know him, too, if you do not know him yet — or simply to reflect on the Jesus you have come to know, if you already know him, too.

xoxo,

Christianne 

He Comes to Us Where We Are

Yesterday I wrote about an experience I had recently of feeling like I was being grabbed by a ponytail on the top of my head and tossed about by the whims of others. I shared that I was able to see Jesus sitting nearby, inviting me to disengage from the abuse and come join him on the brownstone steps. I said I found it interesting that he didn’t come rescue me. 

Rescuing me, in the way I’ve previously experienced Jesus as my rescuer, would have looked like him coming to disengage me from the abuse himself. It would have looked like him coming out into the street, confronting the abusers, and pulling me safe into his arms and away from the scene of such pain. 

It would have looked like him rescuing and defending a young girl in the way she needs to be rescued and defended. 

But that’s not what happened. And what’s perhaps most surprising to me is that I was totally okay with that. 

It was a picture, for me, of my growth. I noticed that when I came to sit on the brownstone steps with Jesus, I was no longer a 3-year-old girl with a ponytail but an alive and strong 32-year-old woman who could sit shoulder to shoulder with Jesus and hold an adult conversation. It was so electrifying and invigorating to notice and experience that.. 

And it reminded me that he comes to us exactly where we are.

We’ve been talking about this in the Look at Jesus course I’m teaching right now. We’ve been noticing how differently Jesus responds to different groups and types of people. With some people, he’s gentle and kind. With others, he’s direct and abrasive. 

It can be unsettling to see the many different colors of Jesus in one huge array at once. 

But we’ve come to think it shows his genius — that it has to do with his ability to know exactly what a person needs and to meet them where they are, like the most perfect teacher or parent that ever existed. Some people need gentleness and kindness. Others need greater directness and candor. And others need something totally different than either of those things.

Jesus knows the difference and gives them the exact right thing. 

It reminds me of a moment several years ago when I really got at least part of the miracle of Paul’s teaching in Philippians 2: 

Think of yourselves the way Christ Jesus thought of himself. He had equal status with God but didn’t think so much of himself that he had to cling to the advantages of that status no matter what. Not at all. When the time came, he set aside the privileges of deity and took on the status of a slave, became human! Having become human, he stayed human. It was an incredibly humbling process. He didn’t claim special privileges. 

— Philippians 2:5-7

Now, there are many things to learn of God and Christ inside these words. But one thing these words teach us is the nature of Christ’s love. It’s a love that comes to us where we are. 

When I needed Jesus to rescue me in times past, he rescued me. When I needed him to hold me in his arms to comfort and soothe me, he did just that. And when I needed him to remind me of my strength, my volition, and my own dignity, like he did in the ponytail incident more recently, that’s what he did. 

He comes to us where we are. And where we are and what we need changes over time as we grow. This, too, is what spiritual formation is about. It’s about growing into the whole and complete person we are meant to be in God’s sight, and that changes over time as we grow into it.

How do you need Jesus to meet you right where you are right now? What does his coming to where you are look like in this particular time and place of your life and growth?

On Being Tied to Others

Recently, I had an experience that was pretty visceral. I was feeling pretty beat up and insecure, and I put out an SOS call to my spiritual director, Elaine. Thankfully, she had some time to connect with me by phone that day, and after pouring out my woes, I landed on an image to describe the way I felt. 

In the image, I was three years old with a ponytail on the top of my head, and people were grabbing me by that ponytail and banging me around at whim. 

Ouch. Pretty visceral, right? 

What absolutely broke my heart was seeing my own response inside that image. I was flinging my arms out wide in a desperate attempt to grab the leg of the one(s) flinging me around, trying valiantly to grab hold and hang on tight, as if to say, “Love me! Care for me! Approve of me! Want me!”

Ouch again. This is me in one of my most vulnerable places. I struggle with things like this.

Thank goodness for Elaine. She asked if Jesus was there, and he was.

I wouldn’t have seen Jesus if she hadn’t asked me to notice him. 

But when she asked me to notice Jesus, there he was, sitting on a set of steps in front of a brownstone walk-up residence off to the side. All that flinging and flailing was happening in the middle of a neighborhood street, and Jesus sat quietly on the brownstone steps, facing the street, watching the scene unfold before him.

I found it interesting he didn’t try to rescue me. He didn’t get off the steps and interfere in the incident. Instead, he looked at me with calmness and knowledge in his demeanor and his eyes and simply communicated, “You don’t have to take that.”

It was like I had a choice. Really? 

So I gave it a shot. I disentangled myself from the abusive swinging and banging around, and I went to sit by Jesus on the steps. And as soon as I sat down, it was like I came back into possession of my whole self. I was 32 years old, inhabiting the fullness of my story, my life, and my body. 

I was whole and pulsing with aliveness. Jesus and I sat shoulder to shoulder, looking out on the neighborhood street before us, and talked like two adults who know, love, and respect each other. 

Do you struggle with something similar — being tied to the whims of others, enslaved to their approval or treatment? What might it be like to receive the full acceptance and respect of the companionship of Jesus instead? 

You Needn't Be Scared of Him

I think it’s easy to think about God and be scared of him. Or even to think about Jesus, God made human, and be scared. After all, this is God we’re talking about. He’s holy and righteous. He set the world spinning. He gave us a moral conscience and cares about right and wrong. 

This morning, as I looked into the eyes of Jesus, I saw him acknowledging this — how easy it is to be afraid of him. 

But I also saw him asking me to tell you that you needn’t be afraid. 

There’s a story in the Chronicles of Narnia about Aslan the lion. He’s a huge lion with all the strength of a thousand men, and he can be quite ferocious, especially when confronting evil or protecting what is lovely.

And yet he befriends young children. He gives his own life to save the wayward one of them. He walks and talks with them, and they absolutely love him. 

There’s a line in that story about this lion named Aslan. They say: 

“He isn’t safe, but he’s good.” 

It’s so easy to equate safety with goodness, isn’t it? At least for me, it’s easy to equate the two. But that’s not what Jesus offers. He offers his goodness. He offers our best. He gives us the truth, even if the truth is hard to look at. 

But he’s good. He’s full of love. 

Do you ever feel scared of God? What scares you about him? What is it like to consider the invitation of Jesus not to be afraid? 

Registration Open for Look at Jesus Course!

Hi, everyone!

I’m excited to open registration (at long last!) for Look at Jesus: a Gospel immersion course. Below, I’ve shared a short preview video, registration details, and a list of FAQs about the course. 

I hope you will choose to join us for what I am sure will be a meaningful time of exploration and dialogue!

xoxo,

Christianne 

Course dates: October 18-November 26

Course length: Six weeks 

Course fee:$70 $35 (one-time reduced rate for pilot class)

To register, see below!

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Frequently Asked Questions 

What will be covered in the course? 

In this 6-week course, we’ll read all four Gospel accounts in the Bible — Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John — and reflect on what we’re noticing about the main character in each account, which is Jesus. Opportunities will be provided for both personal reflection and group discussion throughout the course.

What kind of coursework will there be, and what is the time commitment?

We will read one Gospel per week for the first four weeks, and you can complete that reading on your own timetable. Two reflection postings will be offered each week (on Tuesdays and Fridays), and you can reflect upon and respond to these questions at your own pace, as well. In the last two weeks of class, several personal reflection exercises will help you pull together your thoughts and experiences in a meaningful way.

What sort of interaction can I expect to share with the course instructor and other participants? 

A video post by me, the instructor, will be shared at the start of each week. I will also post two reflection questions each week, and everyone enrolled in the course is welcome to respond to these questions in a shared comment space. Our course classroom will also include a discussion board forum where you are welcome to share additional questions and thoughts with the rest of the enrolled community. (Participation in the discussion board forum is, of course, optional.)

Do I have to purchase any extra materials for this course?

Besides a copy of the Bible, a computer, and internet access to access the course, no other books or materials are required. 

Do I need to be a Christian to take this course? 

No, you do not. This course is open to anyone who wants to get to know the person of Jesus a little bit more. (But please note that the course is being taught by a Christian instructor with a distinctly Christian perspective and spirituality.)

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I hope you’ll join us! 

To enroll in the pilot course that begins October 18 — at a 50% discount of $35 — click on the button below. (You will be redirected to Paypal.)

[[PAYMENT BADGE DISABLED]]

After you register, you will receive a welcome e-mail from me with additional sneak peeks, goodies, and get-to-know-you questions.

If there are additional questions I can answer for you about the course, leave them in the comments below or e-mail me at christianne118 at gmail dot com. 

xoxo,

Christianne 

The Infinite Patience of God

Hello, friends. 

This morning, as I held the recent reflection series we just completed in my mind, I talked with God about why that series was important. Besides what we discussed about how God feels about our hearts, why was it important to discuss it in such detail at the time that we did? 

I thought about the city image we’ve been discussing here for a while, and then was reminded of a more recent post offered here about a darkened hallway and the entrance of the light of Jesus into that place. Do you remember that post? 

In it, we talked about the intent of Jesus to come to you in the places you are. We talked about his desire to find you. But what happens when he does? 

On that post, one of our community members, Lisa, offered a beautiful and perceptive comment about the quality of experiencing Jesus in a place like that: 

That image of Jesus offering light … is hugely powerful for me. There is such gentleness and safety in it — not a God who forces, but who invites, and waits patiently, with love and peace in the waiting, and not condemnation or guilt. 

Isn’t that beautiful? I’m so glad she shared that she has come to experience Jesus in that way. 

Also as part of her comment, Lisa mentioned a book called Stumbling Toward Faith by Renee Altson that includes a meditation on the parable Jesus told about the ninety-nine sheep and the one that was lost. In that meditation, Renee identified strongly with that one lost sheep and, when found by Jesus and invited back to the fold, she felt herself unready to return. Renee ends the story, Lisa says, by sharing that the shepherd, Jesus, “sat and waited with her for a long time.” 

The shepherd, Jesus, sat and waited with her for a long time … until she was ready to take the next step. 

On my personal blog, Lilies Have Dreams, I’ve shared recently about a long and intentional journey I took with Jesus through the woods. It was a season of deep formation for me — a time when I learned some new truths about my heart, grew in a lot of ways, and experienced pain and joy at varying increments. 

What often stood out to me during those several months I traveled through the woods with Jesus was the infinite patience he displayed as he journeyed with me, no matter where on the path we found ourselves. Whether I was struggling to receive a new truth, grieving newly discovered pieces of my heart, or basking in the joy of God’s grace and presence and love — whether I experienced light or darkness at any point on the path — Jesus stayed with me and was fully present and waited every single time.

There was never any pressure or expectation to hurry up and get to the next step of the journey. He just stood and waited with me for as long as I needed. 

As you journey into discovering the truth of your heart, what is it like for you to consider receiving the infinite patience of God with you in each discovery? 

Do You Struggle to Know Your Heart?

Yesterday we talked about the religious leaders of Jesus’ day and how they didn’t get along with Jesus at all. We talked about their motivation to keep the rules and abide by laws in order to impress God and people. For them, life was about managing an image and trying to remain firmly in control of that image.

But then Jesus came around and turned their ideas completely upside-down. 

He said things like, “When you pray, don’t do it for show. Go into a secret place and talk to God, just you and him. That’s when your prayers will ring true.” And, “When you fast, don’t let people know. Do it in secret, between you and God. That’s when your motivation will be pure.”

He talked about the heart being the place where our treasures lie. He talked about knowing our own shortcomings instead of focusing on the shortcomings of others. He told many of the people he met what was true about them, and they were always amazed at just how well he knew who they really were.

There are so many instances that show Jesus cares deeply about what’s true inside of us. 

When I first realized this was a pretty big deal to God, it was such a mystery to me. I wasn’t so sure I really knew what was true inside of me.

And truthfully, when I read the pages of the Gospels that first time, I was surprised to see so much of myself in those religious leaders — I hadn’t realized that was true of me until it stared me right in the face. 

Also, I had lived like those religious leaders for so long, I thought everything I did was pure and impressive to God. 

I didn’t know my heart at all. 

It took me a long time to learn my heart — to get to know what was really there.

In the next few posts I write here, I’m going to share some of the things I learned about that process with you — ways I learned to get in touch with the reality of my heart. Perhaps you will find it helpful to your own process of discovery and self-knowledge before God. But for today, I’m wondering: 

Have you ever struggled to know the truth of your heart? Is it a priority to you to know your heart? What do you think of Jesus’ emphasis on this? 

Are You in Touch With Your Heart?

I remember the first time I really spent time getting to know Jesus (you can learn more about that time in my life in this video post here), I was struck by the disparity between the religious leaders of the day and Jesus.

They didn’t get along with Jesus at all, and he didn’t get along with them. And the reason why, I came to realize, was because they cared more than anything about keeping laws and abiding by rule books. What’s more, they cared about these things in order to impress God and impress people. 

They were caught up in their reputations and their own social image. 

But then Jesus came along and said, “This isn’t the way to God. Abiding by rules and protecting your image isn’t going to captivate God’s heart.”

What is going to captivate God’s heart? 

Being in touch with your own heart and bringing that reality to God.

When Jesus came on the scene, he went straight to this truth. He told those religious leaders — in not so endearing terms! — that they had no idea what was truly going on inside themselves. They were so focused on outward appearances and external activities that they were completely out of touch with their inner truth. They had no idea what truly motivated them to do what they did.

Are you aware of what’s true inside your heart? Is there anything that scares you about inspecting your heart and then letting God see it?

The Light Is Bright, but It's Good

I’ve been sharing with you lately about the image of a city that Jesus keeps giving to me regarding you. It is a huge and massive city inhabited by a great many people. Tall buildings have been erected in that place. People live and work inside those buildings. It is a busy and bustling city, and everyone moves around inside it, doing what they are expected to do. 

But their hearts lack hope. 

This is the place where Jesus has entered and is setting out to find and give you life. 

I mentioned in one of those previous posts that he is unrelenting in his plans to find you — that he will seek out every nook and cranny and even the dark and hidden corners in order to bring you the life and love that he has to offer you. 

This morning, I sat with that image of dark and hidden corners.

I could see a deep, dark hallway nestled into one of those tall, concrete buildings on a busy thoroughfare. The hallway’s entrance was just off the street. And I could see a person pushed deep into the dark corner of that hallway. 

That dark corner had become their safe place. It had become their home. It had become their place to hide from all that is dark and scary and threatening and unsafe in the outside world, just outside the hallway on the street and beyond. 

Jesus sees that hallway and that person — perhaps that person is you — and is entering into it. 

When I thinking about Jesus entering into that dark hallway to encounter the person hiding there, I can imagine it might feel intimidating.

It makes me think about what happens when I come home late at night and enter the bedroom to turn on the light and find my little girl cat, Diva, asleep on the bed. The sudden infusion of light in the room startles her, and her eyes wince against it. She’s disoriented and not ready to wake up, and it takes a few moments for her to get her bearings and warm up to the idea of being awake and re-engaged with the world around her. 

So I wait for her to adjust to the light, and I stroke her head as I sit and wait. 

I know that once her eyes adjust, the connection we’ll enjoy together in the light is better than the solitude she experienced in the dark. In that dark solitude, she could experience nothing of her surrounding reality. There was only darkness, and she was alone.

But in the light and connection of our shared time together, she receives love and attention and enjoyment and touch. She can play. She can rest. She can ask for what she wants. And she can see so much more of her surroundings. Her reality is broadened. Her experience is more full.

Can you see yourself in this picture? Do you identify with the image of the darkened hallway? What is it like to consider Jesus coming into that place with you, bringing the light of his love and truth to meet you there?

What Are the Wounds?

We’ve been talking quite a bit about Jesus’s passion for you and how he is coming to the places where you are. And last week, I asked you to consider whether you want to be found by him. 

Today, I’d like you to consider the wounds that he might heal. 

I love that in the Gospels, Jesus is all about the normal people who know their need for him. He hung out with fishermen — talk about salt-of-the-earth kind of people! He also spent time with the hated tax collectors and befriended prostitutes. 

He didn’t hang out with the highly religious folks who thought they knew everything and did everything right. 

For instance, there’s this great exchange between Jesus and a bunch of religious leaders one day who criticized him about this very thing: 

Later when Jesus was eating supper at Matthew’s house with his close followers, a lot of disreputable characters came and joined them. When the Pharisees saw him keeping this kind of company, they had a fit, and lit into Jesus’ followers. “What kind of example is this from your Teacher, acting cozy with crooks and riffraff?”

Jesus, overhearing, shot back, “Who needs a doctor: the healthy or the sick? Go figure out what this Scripture means: ‘I’m after mercy, not religion.’ I’m here to invite outsiders, not coddle insiders.”

— Matthew 9:11-13

Jesus came to heal those who were sick. That’s the message he preached over and over — remember the very first words he spoke about his mission and ministry? 

And those who were sick wanted to be near him. He brought good and welcome news to them, indeed. 

What about you? Do you have the kind of experience of life where you know your need for Jesus and for healing? Are you aware of your wounds? In what ways are you sick and in need of healing?

Video: Introducing the Look at Jesus Course

If you’re unable to see the video in your e-mail or RSS feed, click through to watch. 

Approximate run time: 7 minutes, 15 seconds 

Hi there, friends. 

Over the last couple months, I’ve talked here and there about a Gospel immersion course that I’m offering here in the fall. (You can see the original post about it here.)

Today, I’m excited to give you a little more of a peek into the course with a video update. In the above video, I share with you two stories that tell where the inspiration for the course came from and why I’m so passionate about creating it for you.

The course also now has a name! It’s called Look at Jesus: a Gospel immersion course. (Don’t you just love that? I do!)

I will be rolling out registration for the course in mid-September. The course will launch on October 15 and run for 6 weeks.

I hope the video above communicates my excitement for this course and gives you a little taste of what it could be like to take a class with me. And next month, when registration opens, I’ll give you another video update with more of the nuts and bolts about the class and specifics on what you can expect when taking it.

Much love and grace to you today. 

xoxo,

Christianne 

PS: If you’d like to share the badge for the course on your own site, here is the HTML code:

Do You Want to Meet Jesus?

I’ve been sharing with you lately that Jesus is pursuing you with great intent and passion and is coming to the places where you are (we talked about that here and here). We’ve also talked about what Jesus is here to offer you. 

But as I watched Jesus continue to pray over you this morning and prepare to enter the places where you live, I found myself wondering how you would receive him when he finds you.

Is the thought of his coming for you welcome news? Do you want to meet him? Do you want him to meet you? 

Will You Let Him Hold You?

For the last couple months, Kirk and I have been attending a new contemplative eucharist service at the little episcopal parish around the corner from our house on Sunday evenings.

We’ve visited the church off and on over the last five years, and every time we are drawn in by the teaching and joyful spirit of the rector, Father Rob, as well as the holy feel of the beautiful chapel with its high beams, polished wood pews, incense and candles, and beautiful stained glass. It’s truly an inspiring place we’re thankful to have found, and this new contemplative eucharist service, with its slow pace, long periods of silence, candles, and sacred music, especially invites my heart settle into its more natural posture of rest before God. 

Last night, during the short reflection the rector offers after the Scriptures are read in the service, Father Rob spoke about God’s primary response of mercy toward us. He quoted an old traditional prayer called the prayer of humble access, which says: 

We do not presume to come to this thy table, O merciful Lord, trusting in our own righteousness, but in thy manifold and great mercies. We are not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs under thy table. But thou art the same Lord, whose property is always to have mercy.

I thought of that prayer this morning as I brought my heart before God to start the day. My spirit felt heavy, and my heart low and weary. I looked at Christ this morning, who is full of such strength, and I had not the strength in myself to rise and meet him. 

I just needed his tenderness. 

This need for Christ’s tenderness this morning reminded me of a sweet and intimate prayer time he and I shared several weeks ago. I had begun to learn some of the ways he is inviting me to partner with him in the work he is about in this world, and a little voice inside me began to wonder if I had lost my unique specialness to him. Was I simply going to be an appendage to his work now, a convenient pair of hands that he can use? 

I hated asking those questions because they ran so contrary to the truths I’ve learned of Jesus and of my value to him. But there they were: those questions that queried my unique worth beyond what I could and would do with and for him. 

On that day several weeks ago, Jesus stopped what he was doing — all the preparations and activity he was about concerning the work we are going to be doing together — and came near. He sat down next to me, put his arm around my shoulder, and drew me close. He let me rest my head upon his chest for as long as I wanted. And when I looked into his eyes, I saw how much he knows and loves me.

I am not just a pair of hands. I am not just a worker in his fields. I am known.

I wonder today if you need a similar moment of quiet tenderness with Christ. As the prayer says, God’s first instinct toward you is always mercy, always love. He will come near and hold you if you’d like him to. 

Will you invite his arms around you right now?

Healing Is in His Hands

If you can’t see the video in your e-mail or RSS feed, click through to view it here.

I mentioned last week that my prayer times with Jesus lately have evidenced his deep intent to come to where you are — that he is praying over you and cares for you with a great compassion and a fierce urgency. 

As I continue to spend time with Jesus each day, I see him continuing to pray with great intent over the place you live. As he prays and prepares to enter in and find you, I am looking upon a great city and know that he will come to each and every place inside of it to find you. He will enter buildings and walk on streets and sit inside taxi cabs to encounter you and have you know him and be known by him. 

He will even come to the lost and forgotten places in the dark where you may hide.

He will not overlook a single nook and cranny. He will not give up his search for you. He will enter your dark places with the light of his love and truth. He will encounter you on the sidewalk and offer you new life. He seeks to enliven and redeem and restore all of who you are.

The song above is his promise. No matter where you are or what you have encountered, no matter what you feel or what you believe, his love for you is strong and wide and deep and high and never-ending. All the healing you need and seek is found in his capable and redemptive hands. 

Will you allow him to find you?