Faith Archives - Page 6 of 28

February 19, 2014 by Karin 4 Comments

When We Drop The Mask

When did this whole thing start?

The whole dress up fancy and put on your best face for church thing. And I’m not talking about clothes here.

A pastor said something recently – something that made me think…

There are two reasons people don’t go to church:

They have never met a Christian.
They have.

Ouch. Sucker punch.

Mostly because it’s true.

Growing up I often saw the prim, proper, and pressed folks who headed out every Sunday morning.

Some of them were truly kind, salt of the earth types. Some of them… were not.

It always puzzled me, so I decided at a pretty young age that I didn’t fit in with that crowd. I did go for a time. I did meet some gems of this world. It’s just that sometimes it’s hard to see beyond the sparkle and dazzle of His gems. And sometimes we feel dull and rough by comparison. Comparison… and that’s a whole other road block in this quest of ours.

I did pray. I talked to God – He seemed quite distant. But, the people who flocked to His house often turned me right off. It seems awfully judgy of me, but I was a kid. What did I know?

What I didn’t know, the Owner of the House is a radical lover of all the ones we label as derelicts and losers.

The Man they were going to see flipped the temple into a tizzy with his anger.

The Son of Man hung out with the bottom of the barrel. Nothing prim and proper about these friends of His.

What I didn’t know… He can and will use anyone who is willing.

I am not saying we have to dress like slobs to make a point.

I am not saying we have to spew words that wound or shock simply for shock and spew value.

I am not saying nice clothes, good manners, and just plain decency are all wrong. Not at all. I’m a fan of all these things.

I am saying… masks are. Masks are all wrong.

I don’t know a soul who has been reached through false pretenses and pretty pictures – that are backed by nothing.

I don’t know a soul who has felt welcomed into the presence of God through shame and feeling less than.

I don’t know a soul who wants to go to a church full of people who seem perfect.

And maybe I am pointing a finger at myself.

Maybe I am pointing a finger at my own attempt to make this life seem easier than it is.

Maybe I am looking square into the mirror and wondering why in this desperate world we still think it’s ok to hide what is real.

And maybe I’m wondering when we will finally get over ourselves…

Because there are plenty of aching souls waiting for us to stop looking in – and start looking out.

This life.

It is beautiful. And brutal.

It is exquisite. And exhausting.

It is glorious. And grueling.

It is a gift. Every minute.

It is hard, and lonely, and precious, and ugly, and surreal, and solemn, and spectacular. It touches every inch of the spectrum from left to right and back again.

And, it would be so much easier to see – without the masks.

It would be so much easier to relate – to the real stories.

It would be so much easier to touch the next soul – with the barricade lowered.

It would be so much easier to see Him in each other’s eyes – with our faces bare naked.

There is an awkward squirm when the true face begins to reveal itself.

A nervous fear of what they might think.

A trembling step into an unknown arena.

And we wonder,

What will happen now?

Here I am. That’s it. The real deal.

And when the mask lowers and we look into the questioning eyes – the eyes that may not have seen Him anywhere else yet – the eyes that wonder what this whole thing is really all about…

When we lower the mask and show our faces as we really are, we might hear a sigh of relief and a small whisper,

Me too. I get you.

And when the questioning eyes begin to see a reflection of themselves, the tense muscles loosen. The doubtful face softens. This one who has been searching, but hasn’t quite filled the hole.

When this face peers into the maskless face, and the absence of the mask reveals truth…

They just might see Someone else in our eyes.

Ephesians 4:25

Therefore each of you must put off falsehood and speak truthfully to his neighbor, for we are all members of one body.

***Do you wonder if your story matters? Last week I had the joy of being interviewed by Lisa Buffaloe of Living Joyfully Free Radio. Lisa is an amazing woman who, through her interviews, shares incredible God stories on her radio show. We talked about the ways God pursues us, and in this pursuit – we all have stories that matter. Click here to listen.***

February 13, 2014 by Karin 8 Comments

When We Can’t See Through The Fog

I always look out that window.

It faces the mountains to the west. The snow-covered ones off in the distance. It’s a relief to see snow in a dry desert place.

I needed to see those mountains this morning. I lifted my eyes to the mountains. It’s madness in a house sometimes. A beautiful, wild rumpus. And sometimes I go to that window to breathe. Where does my help come from?

Blinds open. And – cloud cover. No mountains in sight.

Where does my help come from now? When I can’t see the mountains.

What do we do when we are under the cover of clouds and we so badly need to lift our eyes up to the majesty of a mountain top?

The fog rolls across the cookie cutter Spanish tile roofs like a swell of ocean washing the carefully constructed castles of our own making. Nothing to see here today. Just fog.

I want to give you a carefully crafted and profound answer. I want to tell you that the secret is in the fog. I want to show you 5 easy steps to your way out of the hazy unknown. To tell you that the mountain top is still there – you just can’t see it.

But, I don’t have the easy answer. I can’t see through the fog either. The chilly haze obscures everything – for all of us – at some point.

I do know the mountain is still there. I know the spectacular cliffs are just beyond the low-lying clouds. I know this. Because I have seen them. The vision of the rugged earth rising to 11,916 feet in altitude is burned in my mind.

I know the mountains are there because I have seen them again and again. Just not today.

I remember what my little blue-eyed baby boy said as he nestled his sleepy head into the soft cloud of his pillow,

Mama, it’s hard to believe when I can’t see Him.

I smiled in the darkness, lit only by the faint blue of an F-16 night-light,

It is, baby. It is hard to believe in the dark.

We have to remember in the dark what we know to be true in the light.

Yea, it’s hard to believe what we can’t see. But what if we have seen? We just forgot a little bit. What if the only way we remember is by closing our eyes. We can see what we know is there in our mind’s eye. In the eye of our hearts.

And, that is the answer, I think. To all of the questions. The secret isn’t in the fog – it’s behind the fog. Time and wind and sun will move the haze along its way once again to reveal what is really there. What has really always been there. Who has always been there. Whether we have seen Him… or not.

We have to remember in the dark what we know to be true in the light.

And the Son slowly burns off the fog until we can lift our eyes to the mountains again.

To the Maker of heaven and earth.

Ephesians 1:18-19

I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints, and his incomparably great power for us who believe.

February 7, 2014 by Karin 11 Comments

The Real Fairy Tale

Not what she expected.

My sweet ten-year-old looked up at me from behind the soft covers. With tears in her eyes she mumbled,

Maybe your next anniversary will be better.

I cocked my head to the side,

Better than what?

She went on,

Maybe you and Dad will be able to go out and have dinner… I don’t know.

I smiled into her innocent eyes. These young recipients of endless princess tales vividly displayed on wide-screen. The princesses who get clothing lines and figurines and jewels. The ones who sing like angels and fight like brave hearts. The ones who struggle through adversity and end up in a life that’s – perfect. With a theme park thrown in.

I laughed,

Sweetie, this was a good anniversary. I got to see my honey… you know, Dad. I was able to hang out with all of you. We are healthy and fed and in a home – all together. That IS a good anniversary.

She looked at me suspiciously,

Ok. But, it’s your anniversary.

I went on, trying to convince this young girl of the beauty of simplicity,

Well, and maybe we can go out to dinner someplace really nice… really soon.

She smiled and hugged my neck,

Ok, Mom, that sounds great. Maybe you can drive to the mountains or something.

(I’m fairly sure she wanted to add… in a horse-drawn carriage)

I tucked her sweet innocence into bed, blew kisses, and turned off the light.

I looked at my warrior,

You know, she wonders why this wasn’t more romantic. She’s watching and wondering where the fairy tale is.

He and I both chuckled, knowing the fairy tale in this chapter is six sleeping children. That is a good anniversary.

Fairy tales. The funny thing is, I grew up hearing my mother’s German fairy tales, and they were far from the story we show our own kids. The original versions involved pain and healing, life and death, beauty and horror. I have books my mother saved – the old hardback German books from our childhood. The characters are running around with hair on fire and thumbs cut off. Pretty morbid stuff. And I didn’t fall apart… as far as I remember. The real stuff of real fairy tales… was real. Or at least not glossed over and fluffed up.

The beauty in the reality of it all… was the end. The redemptive stories intertwined with mayhem. A little bit more like… life.

The fairy tales on our screens today might just bring our princesses (and our princes) crashing down – to reality. There is romance, there is true love, there is charm and beauty… but, it’s not perfect. Not yet.

Don’t get me wrong. I love a beautiful ending all tied up in a bow. There is no Disney-deficiency anemia in our home.

I love that Pocahontas had a heart-gripping romance with John Smith – even though in real life it wasn’t true. In real life, legend has it, she was a brave soul who saved the neck of John Smith and married a man named John Rolfe. She was baptized a Christian and given the name Rebecca.

I love that little red-haired Ariel marries the prince, grows feet, and has a fabulously explosive wedding. Even though the mermaid fairy tale of my childhood told how the mermaid not only longed to be with the prince, but also deeply desired the eternal human soul. This eternal soul – mermaids don’t have. The story in our old German book ended in her death. It made me sad as a kid.

Yes, I love the glossy new versions, but I wonder if they really prepare our little warriors for the real deal? The battle in this life for faith and hope and love. And, it is a battle. The battle worth living for.

Hans Christian Andersen said it well,

Every person’s life is a fairy tale written by God’s finger.

Not the glossy versions, but the real, raw stories of recklessness and redemption… of doubt and deliverance… of fear and freedom. Of life and death. And, Life.

Maybe I’ll pull those old fairy tales out and read them to my kids. I’ll read the German version to the sound of giggles and translate the stories to English. The real versions, as they were really written. Maybe kids can handle the messy tales – knowing the glory is coming in the end.

The important part is the ending. It doesn’t always end well… here. The real ending hasn’t come yet. The best part – the real ending is the real beginning.

A confession. I already read the last page, and… spoiler alert…

Love wins.

Revelation 22:17

The Spirit and the bride say, “Come!” And let him who hears say, “Come!” Whoever is thirsty, let him come; and whoever wishes, let him take the free gift of the water of life.

January 31, 2014 by Karin 12 Comments

Why We Drill Holes In The Frozen Places

Sometimes I just have to write to feel my fingers dancing on the keyboard. I think it must be this way for all artists. And we are all artists.

I think about the gifts God gives us; the ones we have no idea are swimming just below the surface while we dance and skate across the top of the pond. We fly through the air and forget there are treasures swimming just below the frozen lid.

My husband went ice fishing. Seems like a funny thing to do in Las Vegas… but Utah is not very far away. Utah with its snow-covered mountains and frozen lakes. It seems we are never very far from frozen places.

They drilled a hole through eight inches of ice to get to the liquid wonder where the fish dance a dance all their own. Makes me wonder how many inches of ice God must drill through to get the core of us… and, why do we keep re-freezing? The drilling is hard work.

This got me to thinking about frozen lakes. I have never stepped foot onto a lake so thick in ice you could dance on it. I grew up in the South. One year when I was a kid, the lake we grew up on invited my dad and me for a swim on December 31. I’ve never seen a frozen lake. But, I know the frozen places…

The frozen parts – we all have them. We can step out and slip and slide in all directions not knowing where we may end up. We can skate in one direction and spin around to find ourselves somewhere else entirely. All the while, the thought tickles the back of our minds,

Will the ice break?

Will we fall into the frigid depths and sink to the unknown… a dark, murky nowhere kind of place?

Or is there something more?

One of the guys put on a life jacket while the others held a rope tied to his waist. He carefully tread onto the ice and found a spot to drill with the auger. The ice was thick enough. He called the rest of the crew out and they set up ice fishing shop. Chairs, fishing rods, and whatever else guys use when they go ice fishing…

The funny thing is, my warrior told me that the fish are slower in this murk beneath the frozen roof. They slowly drift to the lines and bump against them. No hurry. No excessive hunger it appears… just icy cruising until one gets curious enough to bite.

I wonder what we would find if we drilled beneath our frozen surfaces – the pieces slowly being drilled away by God. I wonder if the pace would be slower… if the dance would look a little bit different. I wonder if the treasure lies just beneath the surface.

And what about the fishing? We are all fishermen, that is… fishers of men, you know. How slowly and cautiously the fish swim around us when we are, well, frozen.

Who wants to swim to a line when the holder of the life line is chilly and cold? Or, maybe, this holder won’t give a glimpse of what’s underneath the surface.

But, sometimes these frozen places feel just so safe. It’s almost easier to sit frozen and still – easier than holding out a line, or a hand… or a heart.

We cast our lines through the small holes – the ones we’ve allowed God to drill. But, the rest… it’s all a slippery surface. Would knows where the icy patches are safe? Who knows what false move may cause the plunge?

Yea, and when the ice does crack, and we find ourselves submerged – down in the depths with the rest of the fish – we are told the best thing to do is… stay calm.

And maybe if we stay calm in these places where the fish slowly nudge, we may just survive. Rise to the surface where the sun’s light blinds us all.

And here, we can breathe this deep breath of relief. We can see that the icy places are really not the safe places. They are really not the sturdy shield we have so carefully created.

When it all melts enough to bring us to this place where we have to remain calm… or sink… then, we can really become fishermen.

There’s not much that separates us from the fish swimming below the surface. Just a sheet of ice.

Before we know it, the Son melts it all away.

And, in the warmth, the fish begin to bite…

Matthew 4:19

“Come, follow me,” Jesus said, “and I will make you fishers of men.”

January 22, 2014 by Karin 4 Comments

When You Can Suddenly See So Much More

You can’t help but stare.

It’s almost too much for the eyes to take in.

Coming from the green drenched hills of the east where sight doesn’t extend past the next turn. Your eyes can’t help but blink and blink and try to take it all in.

The open valley, the stark desert sprinkled with life – then suddenly the mammoth city and the rugged beauty of jagged mountains.

You think you might just be able to see forever. And, you wonder why you couldn’t see forever before.

She landed in this western city where endless bets are placed. Her little guy stared, mesmerized by a place he had never seen before.

This forever friend of mine and her little boy who struggles with grueling allergies and tormenting skin problems – just like my boys.

It’s no wonder God brought us to meet in our twenties. She introduced me to my warrior – she told me he would be the one for me. She was right.

It’s no wonder we met all those years ago and had our first babies one week apart.

It’s no wonder our boys have mirror allergies. I had been through this desperate search for help – 7 years ago. I knew a man, a doctor, who could help. It was no small miracle – no, it was a merciful miracle that brought healing to my baby boy now growing strong and healthy.

I told her about this doctor, and you know how friends are… the best ones. They believe you when it all seems… rather doubtful.

She and her little guy landed safely in this glitzy town in the middle of a desert. She wound her car down the highway and he stared across the miles of valley,

Mommy, why is it?

My eyes are the same size… but I can see so much more…

And that’s just it. The heart of the matter. Our eyes are the same size, but suddenly… we can see so much more.

Why does it sometimes take so long? And, why can’t everyone see it?

It’s right there in front of us, but we can be so blind.

Maybe sometimes it takes a step. A step in faith.

What are the chances that a doctor in the middle of a brimming city – in the middle of a stark desert – can provide a healing touch? An answer to the suffering of a little boy.

But, he did. Just like he did years ago for my own son.

What are the chances we can open our same sized eyes and suddenly see differently – all the things we thought we already knew?

What are the chances we can open the eyes we have always had, and suddenly see so much more?

What are the chances a friend can whisper a Truth, and though it seems impossible – unimaginable – it is real?

What are the chances a step in faith can bring us to a place we can see forever?

Maybe sometimes it just takes one step…

I’d bet my life on it.

2 Corinthians 4:18

So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.

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When We Drop The Mask

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When You Can Suddenly See So Much More

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