manninginthemiddle's blog

Protruding wires scratched her gums, leaving a nasty, open sore. “It hurts so bad, Mama, and that medicine’s not working” – three days in a row this went on. But this morning she woke up smiling. Pulling out her lip, grinning wide and laughing a little, “It’s gone,” she said. “I asked Jesus to heal it last night and when I woke up this morning, it wasn’t there anymore.”

“Cool,” I said, trying to hide my amazement. Smooth, even pink had replaced bubbly, aching white – it was as if nothing had ever happened. And immediately I felt it – His pricking on my heart – Why are you surprised?

I know the answer but I don’t want to say it. And I wish I was more like her. She wasn’t surprised at all it was gone – she knew He would meet her need.

Maybe because things didn’t work out like I expected, maybe because He said No a time or two, maybe because it takes energy and hope to believe, but somewhere along the way I kept on praying and quit trusting – that I matter, that He hears me, that He cares.

But I want to be like that – to have child-like faith, to pray and actually expect Him to answer, to trust that my Dad is going to take care of it.

There is nothing too big or too small for God. He knows, He sees, and He cares. He wants to help us, but we must have confidence in His reliability; we have to trust in His love and grace.

Have you lost your sense of expectancy – your faith that He will answer your prayers? Don’t give up. Join me in remembering His promises, the answers of prayers past. He is faithful, He hasn’t changed, His words are true.

Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find;knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; he sho seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened. Which of you, if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts toyour children, how much more more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who as him! – Matthew 7:7-11 (NIV)

Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours. – Mark 11:24 (NIV)

I feel it most on days like today when balancing the checkbook and mowing the lawn are my primary tasks – this failure, reduction, hollow. Just five years ago I was working on a Ph.D., dreaming of the day I would be called Dr. Manning, hoping that degree would establish my ability, give proof of my potential. But here I sit today, no career, no income, no Ph.D, the only evidence of my capacity a mountain of student loan debt.

The need to prove myself – my competence, my worth – has always been the driving force behind my ambitions.  If I can live in that neighborhood, if I can have this job, if I can serve on that board, if I could speak at this event, if I could have that ministry – then I will be successful, then people will know I matter.

And then I realized,  ninety-five percent of my life has been spent – wasted – trying to prove to people who don’t care things that don’t really matter.

I want to live my life in the other five percent – the place often overlooked, the place where He dwells.

The number five represents grace – His favor, His pardon, His mercy. The very essence of who He is can be found in that little number five.

Sometimes God’s greatest blessings are found in the small. Don’t despise the humble – that’s where His grace abounds.

But he gives us more grace. That is why Scripture says: “God opposes the proud but shows favor to the humble.” – James 4:6 (NIV)

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” – 2 Corinthians 12:9 (NIV)

Please don’t judge or criticize,

Call me lazy or a quitter.

You don’t know what’s deep inside –

The part that’s always hidden.

Pull yourself up by the bootstraps,

Fight the good fight, be tough.

But what more could I possibly do

When my all just isn’t enough?

Someone stole my bootstraps –

Left me here as if for dead.

And while you spout off your encouraging words,

I’m sinking in over my head.

Flailing, struggling, I fight for hope,

While you keep rambling on.

Either offer me your bootstraps

Or leave me here on my own.

I’ll eventually be rescued,

But not by sheer force of will.

He’ll come looking and find me,

He’ll offer His Peace, be still.

And when He comes by, hand outstretched,

Full of bootstraps strong, brand new,

He’ll help me get out, lace my boots, stand up tall,

And we’ll be thinking of you –

Wondering why you just talked, looked down, watched me drown

Never offering your strength, a plan

When you knew all along that my straps were gone,

Extra pairs hoarded in your hands.

The opposite of love isn’t hate; it’s indifference. – Steven Pressfield

James 1:22(NIV) – Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says.

Matthew 25: 34-40 (NIV) – Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’ Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’ The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’

Incessant beeping pulls me from sweet sleep into groggy awareness. “Ugh, just five more minutes,” I groan, rolling over to hit the snooze bar. I never really had this problem before. Although I’m not a morning person by any stretch of the imagination, I’ve always been one to get up and going with the sound of the alarm. It’s only been over the last three years or so that I’ve developed a great appreciation for the snooze bar and the relief and extra time it promises.

But the snooze bar lies. It guarantees time that really isn’t there and pledges false reprieve. It lures with snuggly warmness and comfort, but in the end slaps hard with the realization that the time it promised wasn’t really extra; it was borrowed. Moving faster than ever to make up for the minutes lost, I rush around like a chicken with my head cut off trying to get everything done. What was supposed to give me an extra boost has actually drained me; what was supposed to offer more time has stolen it.

Sadly, this happens in my spiritual life as well. He sounds the alarm – shows me something to do or something to get rid of – and instead of taking Him seriously – my omniscient God who knows and sees all things, who is the giver of life, who works for my good, who sees the end as well as the beginning, who orders my steps – I press the snooze bar and invite Satan in. He sings lullabies and whispers, “There’s more time;” he fills me with fear and tells me, “You can’t do it, just stay here and go back to sleep.”  And I listen, welcoming his deceit, when all along I know the truth – the time he promises isn’t his to give; the fear provides false safety and warmth.

Is God asking you to do something or to give something up? Fight the temptation to press the snooze bar. God’s timing is perfect and we are not promised tomorrow. How often have we missed His blessings, an opportunity to share His love, or the chance for freedom in an area of bondage because we were tricked into waiting just five more minutes?  The snooze bar is a hoax of the enemy. He uses it to rob us, to pacify us, to keep us from God’s best.

Sometimes it’s hard to get up, to get moving, to get rid of things making us complacent, or to get busy doing the work He’s called us to. But be encouraged. He only wants good for us – to strengthen, grow, and use us. He who began the work is faithful to complete it.

Now listen, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money.” Why, do you not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. Instead, you ought to say, “If it is the Lord’s will, we will live and do this or that.” As it is, you boast in your arrogant schemes. All such boasting is evil. If anyone, then, knows the good they ought to do and doesn’t do it, it is sin for them. – James 4:13-17 (NIV)

From time to time, birds get stuck in our trampoline. Swooping low, aiming for just the right spot to perch, occasionally one will miss the mark and fly into the net rather than landing on the tall posts that offer the promise of safety and rest. And in an instant, peace turns to panick. Fluttering in circles, flapping, flailing, the bird becomes disoriented. It lights on the net looking all around, seeing only enclosure, confinement, not realizing the freedom it longs for is directly above. All it has to do is look up.

I live my life that way sometimes. Seeking His safety, refuge, rest, I try to make a landing. But on occasion I miss the mark and become panicked. Not realizing the net is open, I flutter and flail trying desperately to make an escape. Seeking a way out, I fly in endless circles, wondering where the net ends, where the rest, peace, grace is, when my freedom hovers directly above – all I have to do is look up.

Have you missed the mark today? Do you feel trapped, panicked, insecure? Look up. He is watching, waiting. He loves you – He is your help.

I lift my eyes to the mountains – where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth. He will not let your foot slip – he who watches over you will not slumber; indeed, he who watches over Israel will neither slumber or sleep. The Lord watches over you – the Lord is your shade at your right hand; the sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night. The Lord will keep you from all harm – he will watch over your life; the Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore. – Psalm 121 (NIV)

I’ve heard it said that one of a girl’s most important relationships is the one she has with her father. I believe that to be true. I didn’t have a connection with my dad and it affects me to this day. When I see my husband with my daughters it conjures a mix of emotions –sad for me, happy for them. I didn’t have what they do, what I deserved, what every little girl longs for – unconditional love, a sense of peace and safety, validation. I lived in fear, insecurity, and anxiety. And though I’m sure he did love me because I was his child – an extension of himself – I never felt that he loved me for who I was.

He never hugged or kissed me, never told me he loved me. I guess he assumed I knew. But how was I supposed to know? Slamming doors, shouting curse words, and avoiding interaction doesn’t look like love to a 9-year-old. It appears to be hate and anger; it feels like rejection.

Years later when I found out the truth, it suddenly all made sense. It wasn’t that he didn’t love me, he was just so busy covering with lies, deceit and manipulation that he had no time for what really mattered.  His anger wasn’t with me, it was with himself. Years of living a double life had taken their toll. But the damage was already done, and even though things became explicable, they didn’t become justifiable or understandable.

This was his truth: he had homosexual affairs; he knew he was HIV positive but didn’t tell anyone including my mother, who he continued a relationship with; he imbezzled money from every place he ever worked; he died of AIDS.

Secrets can only cover for a while; they are never strong enough to shield forever. For deception breeds in darkness, reproducing shadows, multiplying black. And when they break open, as they always do, releasing reality, fact, what once seemed small breaks forth massive, engulfing – a tidal wave that destroys everything in its path.

It wasn’t until the last time I saw him alive that I got my “I love you,” but that one memory towers high above the rest, pointing to an even more glorious event.  Read our happy ending here.

I’m disappointed. I have a bad attitude. People are really getting on my nerves. I don’t like admitting that. I’d like to lie and say my heart is filled with great joy and love for all. I’d like to tell you everything is going great and I’m super stoked about the future. I wish I could declare with utmost assurance that things will work out as I hope they will. But I can’t. And God knows. And He’s not mad because I’m not perfect; He’s not going to zap me because I forgot my super Christian cape this week.

He, more than anyone, understands the frustrations of life. He knows how it feels to be betrayed, sad, lonely, disillusioned. And so I take my problems to Him, thankful He cares, praying He will forgive, begging Him to help me see the road I should take, the way out.

Where do I go from here? I ask Him, and in gentle tone He says, Nowhere, you just stay right here with Me. And it is in this place I understand, fully realize His grace. There is nowhere I can go to make it right, to change the outcome, to make things turn out the way I’d like. I must stay here with Him, let Him wash me clean, change my heart, rinse away the worry. He’s the only one who can remedy what is wrong.

Sometimes it seems more productive to go, to work, to try to repair the damage, but it is in the staying with Him that He stays us – supporting, sustaining, strengthening, causing us to be fixed and at rest.

I call upon you, my God, for you will answer me; turn your ear to me and hear my prayer. Show me the wonders of your great love, you who save by your right hand those who take refuge in you from their foes. Keep me as the apple of your eye; hide me in the shadow of your wings. – Psalm 17:7-8 (NIV)

We spent the weekend preparing – buying snacks and supplies, organizing, packing, going over lists. He was glad to let me help. I’ve been on trips like this before. I know the things he’ll need, the possibilities to be considered. But while he was thinking of the bus ride, the fun activities, the time he’d spend with friends, I was thinking of provision, making sure he had the resources necessary to make his trip calm and comfortable.

At check-in we turned in his bags and got new instructions, “Go up the stairs and find your group. Wait there for information about loading buses.” I followed him toward the stairs, but after only a few steps he turned and said, “Okay, I’ve got it from here.” A short, get-away-from-me-now-someone-might-see-you side hug later he was gone. And I was left standing, trusting he knows how much I love him, hoping he’ll remember everything.

And I can’t help but think of how He must feel – how He’s left standing, how He trusts I know how much He loves me, how He hopes I’ll remember the supplies, instructions He put in my bag, how He wants to stay with me, help me, see me grow and have fun, but sometimes I just give Him a half-hearted hug and say, “I’ve got it from here.”

I walk away from Him more than I’d like to admit. Through worry and doubt, fear and hopelessness I step further and further away, losing sight of my bags, losing sight of Him. And then I wonder where He went, why He left. But God doesn’t move; He doesn’t leave; He’s still standing there waiting.

Take heart. If you’ve stepped away, gotten lost, or can’t see Him anymore, just go back the way you came. Retrace your steps – you’ll find Him right where you left Him. He’s there waiting with open arms, ready to take you home.

Because God has said, “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.” – Hebrews 13:5b (NIV)

It’s funny how we let numbers define us. Age, weight, salary, pant size, blog followers, Facebook likes, re-tweets, checkbook balance, calories consumed, home square footage, books sold – the list goes on and on. It’s depressing, really, because each time I see the numbers, I’m reminded of what I’m not instead of who I am. And I hear his voice strong, hissing, “Deidra, those numbers don’t lie.” And while it’s true that according to his standards – the world’s measurements of success – my numbers are laughable at best, to me they are proof of God’s mercy.

I’m not a spring chicken; I’m not light as a feather; I make a grand total of $0 a month; my pants aren’t in the single digits; I have fewer followers than 90% of the bloggers I read; on a good day maybe 3 people will like my Facebook posts; I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve been re-tweeted – in all-time history; my checkbook is a sad little place that has only a few dollars left afer the bills are paid; no matter how many calories I don’t eat in a day and in spite of my exercise routine, I’m still a chunky monkey; and my house is unimpressive to say the least. And then there’s the big one: 454. I’ve given away more than I’ve  sold.

It’s the numbers that make me lose focus, get me off balance, convince me to assign a value to things that don’t really matter. But I don’t think Jesus is going to make my entry to heaven contingent upon my home size or bank account. He’s not going to tell me I’m too fat to fit through the gates. He’s not going to require 1,000 blog followers, and He doesn’t care about my Twitter feed. He helps me understand that those numbers, when manipulated and magnified, really do lie.

While to others my age means the best days are gone, to me it represents life he failed to steal through depression and suicide. To the world my weight and pant size are too much, to me it proves recovery from eating disorder.  To social experts, my followers, likes, and tweets reflect obscurity, to me they attest that others need my story. To marketers and agents 454 might be a joke, but to me it confirms a call.

Numbers can lie and they often do. Don’t use them to measure your value –they quantify but never qualify. You are of great worth. Your significance to God cannot be measured in corruptible terms.

When they arrived, Samuel saw Eliab and thought, “Surely the Lord’s annointed stands here before the Lord.” But the Lord said to Samuel, “Do not consider his appearance or his height, for I have rejected him. The Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.” Then Jesse called Abinidab and had him pass in front of Samuel. But Samuel said, “The Lord has not chosen this one either.” Jesse then had Shammah pass by, but Samuel said, “Nor has the Lord chosen this one.” Jesse had seven of his sons pass before Samuel, but Samuel said to him, “The Lord has not chosen these.” So he asked Jesse, “Are these all the sons you have?” “There is still the youngest,” Jesse answered. “He is tending the sheep.” Samuel said, “Send for him; we will not sit down until he arrives.” So he sent for him and had him brought in. He was glowing with health and had a fine appearance and handsome features. Then the Lord said, “Rise and annoint him; this is the one.” – 1 Samuel 16:6-12 (NIV)

Judged, accused, misunderstood, passed-over, unnoticed, invaluable, an afterthought, the runt – I’ve worn these labels many times in my life, and truthfully, I’ve worn a couple of them this week. I’ve almost written myself off, convinced that because others don’t seem to see or care, God must not either. But a couple of days ago as I read the story of David’s annointing for kingship, I saw something in those verses that I never have before, and two things in particular really resonated with me.

First, Samuel was God’s man – the prophet, the one God spoke to and trusted to deliver His word. His whole life was devoted to God’s service. He served in the temple, the very presence of God – if  anyone heard from God, knew His heart, it was Samuel. But when Samuel went to Jesse’s house to find and annoint a new king for Israel, even he – the prophet, the insider – got it wrong. He thought he knew God’s choice. He based his selection on what he saw.

Second, the one who was God’s choice had to be retrieved from the field. He wasn’t with the rest of his brothers standing around waiting to get picked. He was busy working, doing the job he had been appointed to do. David didn’t know what was going on at home, but God knew where He was and called him out of his place of labor into a place of authority.

Sometimes we get too concerned with what others think or say about us  – we are more worried about man’s rejection than God’s. People make judgments based only on what they see; God’s selection is centered on His exhaustive, detailed, profound knowledge of you. God alone sees the heart; He alone knows the truth. Just because you are not man’s choice does not mean you are not God’s.

David was a hard-worker. He was always in the field doing his job. And it was there – in the thick of it all, in the sweaty, gritty, day to day, in the work no one else saw, in the life everyone else overlooked that God prepared him for his calling. David did his work diligently and faithfully, even when no one was looking. But God saw, and God chose him – the runt, the one everyone else forgot about, the one no one else would have chosen.

Be encouraged today. God knows right where you are and He sees your heart. Don’t worry about the approval or endorsement of others. God will bring promotion. Be faithful, even in the wilderness, even when no one else is looking – He is preparing you for the great work ahead.