Surrendered Expectation, and the Glorious Fruit

     When we were at Bethel, the adventure sustained the instability I often felt. I knew that the season of close quarters with housemates, one usable- yet unregistered vehicle, and the chronic miracle of rent appearing the day before it was due was not a life I wanted to live forever, and it wouldn't be. As Paul approached graduation, we joyfully proclaimed our future into place, as we were always encouraged to do. "Graduation is a launching pad to a career in ministry!" Honestly, in my mind, I absolutely believed it would be. My faith was high for this. I knew what we had sacrificed, and the payoff would be stability. I would take lots of deep breaths and tell myself that God was my stability, and as long as I had my constant, I could survive any season. It was true- I survived. Here I am! But several months ago, we signed a year lease on a house rental that I love, and it felt pretty darn good. Oh, and I have my own bedroom, and it's the largest bedroom in the house, which I highly, highly recommend. Although I have landed smack dab in the middle of stability, something stunning met me here: boredom. No more school, no more church 3 nights a week, no more classes or conferences to attend, no more prophetic parties lasting until 1 am, no more coming home completely wrecked by the Holy Spirit- just.life. 

My husband didn't land his dream job, and just barely did he land a job. Immediately I started a new "declarations" chart. All we needed was a little vision for our lives. Vision. What are we doing? Having a plan seemed like the ideal antidote for my little boredom problem. After reveling in his disappointment for awhile, Paul came to terms with, "I didn't get my way," which sounds selfish, but he also wrestled with this, "None of my declarations, prayers, or prophetic words came to fruition." I wrestled with these very same issues on his behalf. He wasn't ready to make a plan, and that made me really, really uncomfortable.

Several days ago, I was rehearsing some prophetic words I had received at Bethel. One in particular is my favorite because it was given to me by an incredible evangelist who half the time can't speak English for speaking in tongues. It was also given to me in front of an audience, and I received a standing ovation on its behalf. That's the funny thing about the prophetic, it picks up a truth in your life even if it is yet to be fulfilled. Trust me on this one. My friend and mentor declared that I was a Proverbs 31 woman and read the entire scripture over me.  Once he finished, a group of leaders blessed me as a favored woman of God- an anointed wife to my husband, and mother to my children. Someone even gave me a word of knowledge that I was going to be pregnant soon, and next month, two lines appeared on a plastic stick (We had been trying to get pregnant for 5 months prior to this). It was a good day. This is the part I remember most clearly: I was leaving class, and a large hand gripped my shoulder. I turned to see a young, but handsome man had stalled me. He humbled himself and asked, "Mam, I hope it's ok I stopped you. I am a BSSM student, and I came here to find a wife. I pray every night God will bring me a wife! Would you lay hands on me and pray that God will bring me a wife like you." Now, there is a lot of freedom at Bethel so I wasn't weirded out by this guy's request, but I was a little stunned. Me? The truth is, I laughed. He continued, "When you got that word, I thought, that's the girl I'm looking for!"  I didn't give him a prophetic word- which are always wonderful to receive, but simply told him the truth.     

      "When my husband married me, I already had a baby. I was a single mom, and I had very recently surrendered my life fully to God. I knew like 4 books of the Bible, and they were the gospels, but I didn't know the difference between the New and Old Testament. I had a bad reputation. When I met my husband, all I knew is that I loved God and I was done with my old life. So my best advice to you is to stop looking for the Proverbs 31 woman, and start looking for someone who is wholly surrendered to God. She might not go to BSSM. She might have a kid. She might smoke. I don't know, but ask Jesus to give you His eyes for this girl, and see if you find someone." 

That was my best advice. Stop expecting something to happen the way you think it will. Stop expecting God to fulfill your plan, by your own efforts. Dontcha know that God is higher than all this earthly mess we find ourselves in? That's what I ministered to this kid, and yesterday, began to minister to myself. 

Why am I so surprised that my life isn't a mirrored fulfillment of my declarations? Of my prophetic words? Of my extremely specific prayers? Only God can match a future pastor to a single mom. Only God would place Daniel in a position to serve a godless king. Only God would choose David to be the next king, when Jesse didn't even bring him along when Samuel asked to meet his sons (Historically, it is thought that David might not have been a true son, and was produced out of wedlock). Yes, even Samuel was tempted to pick a handsome son to be king, but God told him to look at the heart alone. God chose to build His church upon Peter the rock, also, once a coward. And a traitor. I know we've all read the familiar meme explaining the many flaws of Biblical heroes, but my point is, God does some pretty backwards things (by our perspective, of course) to achieve His goals. Sometimes it looks like abandonment, Jesus once confessed this, "Abba, why have you forsaken me?" I have been reminding myself of these things, instead of sighing until my rib cage breaks, 

"Ok God, you're doing something else in my life right now. It's not what I imagined, or thought would happen, but it's part of your plan for me and I'm going to apply your grace and goodness to the disappointment I feel, and move on." 

      Surrender brings freedom, another completely backwards kingdom philosophy. 

       After that young man asked me to pray for him to find a wife, that night my husband was stopped by a young girl in his small group who- not kidding- through tears, asked him to pray for her to find a husband like him. I've always thought we should have hooked those two young love-seekers up, but never got around to it. You know what else? If God wouldn't have clearly told me to marry my husband, I probably wouldn't have done it. I felt agonizing fear over our relationship being primarily long distance. I loved him, but knew I couldn't rely on my feelings alone. Paul (my husband) used to tell me, "Summer, what are the fruits of this relationship? That is how you'll know if we're in God's will!" He told me this all the time. Spiritual fruit doesn't look like making good money, having all your prayers answered, or being the healthiest person alive- that's what the world says is a "fruitful" person. The best sort of spiritual fruit is born of the ability to abide in the Father (whoever remains in Me, and I in him will produce fruit), often times a surrendered life. In that season then, in this season now, I feel totally reliant on what God is doing. The more I let go of my expectations, the more I can lean on Him to follow through with His mission in me.

      And if you're curious, I really think God is teaching me how to thrive in stability. No flare. No adventure. No miracles or manifestations....just being faithful. The funny thing is, that's what I have hungered for all along. 

A Memoir of Grace

      When I began this blog, I wrote about my inspiration for "Cultured Grace" The entire point being that I am on a journey- of loving others well, especially those that share my last name. They seem to be the most challenging, somehow! Since I am on a journey, I haven't arrived. But, by allowing myself to culture in the grace of God almighty, day by day I see something beautiful: GROWTH. Suddenly, what was once so impossible for me is-actually-happening. It feels me with hope for my future, because I know I can overcome stubborn habits. My life is full of successes, some I share in the post I linked above, and here I will share another. Yet, to avoid promoting myself, I will remind all of my dear readers that I am still making small strides towards where I really want to be as a successful lover of Christ, and my family.

     Here is a success story:

     On Monday afternoon, at exactly 1:42 PM, I applauded myself. I even danced a little, and spun in a circle. What had I accomplished?

     I cleaned a bathroom toilet.

     You see, I didn't grow up cleaning bathroom toilets. I am of a lucky few, raised outdoors, a product of free-range parenting (a concept now I actually cringe at the thought of, though I do examine my fingers, toes, arms and legs sometimes and take note I am still in one piece). My parents owned a farm, and I spent 7 days a week in the dirt, imagining the most outlandish of scenarios: that I was a famous riding instructor or a veterinarian, or some days, my friends and I just pretended we had been dropped in the middle of the woods and had to survive against all odds (which is what free-range parenting really is, if we're honest...but we won't go there now). There are days I don't even remember eating, simply because I refused to come up for air. My mom suffered with a chronic fatigue and pain when I turned 9, and when we weren't at the farm, she was resting. Cleaning was a twice a month phenomenon, when my mom would lock all the doors and threaten that my sister and I would not see sunlight until we could see the floor of our house. I dreaded cleaning. I imagined that one day I would live in a house so clean, it would never have to be cleaned! Ha! My mom eventually found a cleaning system that worked for our fast-paced family, which encouraged 15 minutes a day of cleaning, and a vow to never leave dishes in your sink (always shine your sink!). From there, the way we cleaned took a turn and our house was nearly always company-ready. Mentally, I could never seem to get to a place where cleaning was just that- 15 minutes. Instead, I saw my entire day disappearing beneath the heavy burden of picking my clothes up off the floor.
      When I got to college, I filled my desk with cleaning supplies: Lysol, sponges, 409, and febreze. I was determined to pick up this skill I had never practiced. I made my bed. I shined my shower tote. I lysoled my door knob like a plague was imminent. I thought I had "arrived." That was then, before I was a wife and mother.

       For the past 6 years, I have majorly tried to become a "clean" person. I have bought numerous books on organization, blamed my nostalgic childhood, wrote myself schedules, and still, only found relief in allowing the house to fall into madness before spending 10 hours straight pulling it back together. I did happen to marry a "clean freak" who has relieved me of the burden of perfection because A) that isn't his standard, and B) if I don't measure up to his standard, he will get off from his work and began cleaning like a madman on a mission. You can imagine how wonderful I feel about myself when that happens (only every other day). I am really grateful for how much my husband helps me, but I've felt all along this was my battle to conquer. Recently I returned home from a 13 day trip with my three children last week, and put the laundry away within the first five days. I can see my living room floor every day now. My bedroom is the cleanest room in the house. And...and....I am a regular scrubber of toilets. Regular, as in weekly. I weekly clean toilets. No one open my fridge or my closet door...but my house is getting to a place where I can SEE that I am overcoming my weaknesses. All of this has been a PROCESS. Gradual. Not overnight. Somehow cleaning two bathrooms in a consecutive manner made me feel like a rock star.

Now, failure (or my next achievement, really...):

     Somewhere along the way, I forgot to socialize my 6 year old son. I watched him goofing off with our grandpa a couple days ago and it was completely safe and fun, an environment where my son could test his strength and know he wasn't going to get hurt. Except that he did get hurt- only he didn't, he was just whining, "Stop!!" and as soon as grandpa would relent, my son would begin lashing out with merciless hitting and slapping. When Grandpa would say stop, he wouldn't. So Grandpa would up the tickling madness, and my son would fall into a stoop and cry. I was on the sidelines saying, "Don't hurt him! He's asking you to stop!" [To my son, that is. My 83 year old Grandpa can take it!] Eventually my husband pulled me aside and whispered, "We have a problem. You're turning him into a Momma's Boy!" Yes, what every momma wants to hear. I would have loved to grab that little snuggle monkey into my lap and promise him grandpa would never be allowed to play with him again, but the more I watched, the more obvious it became. My son was acting like a brat- dishing it out, but not allowing the fight to come full circle. I thought about a lot of things in those following moments, about how I was homeschooling him in some ways, to keep him close and safe. Even as I read my homeschool curriculum I have gasped, "He isn't ready for that! What kind of overachievers write this stuff??"

    Oh, but he is. Ready for sports. Ready for friends. Ready for patterns and graphs. Ready for *gulp* some independence....from me.

With that, I ask for grace. I ask for HELP. Just like five years ago I began my journey of asking God to give me grace as I learned to keep up a house for three people...then four...then five....soon, six. I can feel myself stepping into that growth and I celebrate. I look into the obvious places I continue to fail and know if I am intentional, if I declare war on these shortcomings and partner with God, I will find success.

Just yesterday, I read in my "Jesus Calling" devotional: My Power plugs in most readily to consecrated weakness.

I love that. Consecrated weakness. That is what allowing our lives to be shaped by the Master Potter really looks like. You could start now. Ask God what weakness He wants to mold into a strength. Discover the true power of grace through vulnerability and submission, and celebrate along the way.