The Steadfast Heart

In 3 weeks, I’ll be moving to a new place with new beginnings. I’ll start over in finding all of my familiar places like walking paths and coffee shops. I’ll figure out the traffic patterns around our new neighborhood and find the best time of day to go grocery shopping again.

And while I think about those kinds of changes, it doesn’t take up nearly as much of my time than one other thought. When I leave this town weeks from now, I’m not sure that many people will realize I’m gone. And that is what quiets me the most.

I have a tendency to reflect on the past more often than I would care to admit to you, and from my reflections I craft my reasoning for my present decisions. Like how in the last 6 months, I’ve withdrawn from people in this community after a long period of initiating with moms from church and women my age I’ve met around town. I’ve been told by multiple people that it just wasn’t a good season for them to get together in the midst of raising kids and my texting conversations that sound like, “When are you free? I have Thursday morning available.” abruptly end after sharing my calendar. It’s hard not to believe that a year of stillness in my relationships won’t roll over for me into the next place. I’m not sure if my efforts weren’t enough or if I wasn’t exciting enough or deep enough or shallow enough…or if it was all simply out of my control the last 3 years.

I found myself diving deeper into what I could control, which was my work and my contributions to a company. In some ways, it has served as a life line for me. In other ways, it has brought equanimity to me. And then there have been the times where it’s felt like having a virtual job limits and prohibits my growth simply by not being proximate.

So that’s what has been weighing me in the last 6 weeks since finding out we’d be moving. It caused me to pause when I think about the life I’ve lived over the last 3 years and the low impact it feels like I’ve made in this town and I fear to repeat it again. There’s also a small part of me that wrestles with the idea of moving for my husband’s job with no clear direction on what’s to come for me.

I’ll keep my job, but will things continue to shift the less I’m able to visit the store? Will I be able to help people become the best versions of themselves as people and as leaders from an hour away? Will there be young moms like me who would want to get to know me or would want me to get to know them? Will our new church welcome us or have a community? Will Hunter’s new basketball community accept our family for who we are or what my husband can do for their sons?

As I was driving home on country roads Sunday night reflecting on our season in this town and thinking over what’s yet to come in the next place, I asked God if I’m ever going to feel like I’m home. And if shooting stars can work like thoughts, this is what came to my mind from the Lord:

“Natalie, I want you to know what Hagar knew. That I am the God that sees you. I not only see you, but I hear and know your heartbreak.”

What I know about Hagar was that she was told over and over that her life didn’t count in so many ways to a point where even when the real voices stopped, her inner critic would pick up where they left off. She felt used and forgotten. She was mocked and resented by people who also seemed to be following God. Can you imagine that kind of confusion on who to trust? She was forced to flee into the unknown, pregnant and alone and I can’t imagine the agony of feeling like the weight of the world is on your shoulders, just to survive.

So while I don’t have anything worked out for what’s to come that’s concrete, this I know. He saw me in this town and he will see me in and through the next one. He has seen my work and will find me at my same desk weeks from now. He not only made sure Hagar knew she was seen by him, but he provided for her needs in the chapters of her life that followed.

He sees me. And he sees you. He sees every meal you made alone in the kitchen, every time you’ve pushed a lawn mower across the yard, and every instance you went out of your way to make someone else stand a little taller.

You’re not hidden and what you do does count when it feels like no one cares to watch, and you matter when it feels like you don’t. He wants you to know what Hagar knew. And I pray that you sense him whispering that to you like the hundreds of times I’ve needed him to whisper that to me.

May you be confident of what Hagar knew: that you belong to the God who sees you. And to the God who has chosen you for the person you are and who has a purpose for your life if you’re willing to let him know you from the inside out.

Take care & take heart,

Natalie

Every Monday night growing up, my dad would take me out to Panera for dinner. We had this routine where he would wait on our food and I would get water for us in those tiny, clear plastic cups. I would carefully select the freshest lemon slice for my dad’s cup and fill both halfway with ice before finding a table. Being able to find an empty booth at 5:30pm always felt special, but beyond than that, I had the undivided attention of my dad.

Have you ever met someone who can ask really great questions? Questions that make you think out loud as you try to answer them the way you want to the first time without taking too long? My dad asks fun questions like that. Sometimes when I try to pull a memory, I can’t pin down how old I was at the time because in a sense to me, I’ll always feel like a little girl and my dad never ages. But on one of those Monday nights, my dad asked me who my favorite character in the Bible was at the time and I remember telling him that it was Joseph from Genesis.

After I had finished answering his follow up questions on, “Why Joseph?” it occurred to me to inquire about who his favorite Bible character was and why. In the years to follow, I have recalled this conversation to mind dozens of times and the older I get, the more I understand and relate to his answer. I remember a learning light turning on in my brain as my dad spoke on a character I had never heard of before. At my age, I had been taught about the main characters like Noah and Moses, David and Solomon, the 12 Disciples, Paul, of course, and women like Mary, the mother of Jesus.

But I had never remembered hearing of Barnabas. Once I got home and was able to put my finger on the very text my dad taught me about, I’ve never once forgotten Barnabas and here is why:

• Barnabas’s real name was Joseph, but he made such an impact on people that the apostles called him Barnabas which was means “son of encouragement.” He was known for his generosity (Acts 4:36-37).
• He was one of the first accepting people of Saul (who was to become known as Paul) and was able to advocate on his behalf to the apostles. Barnabas used his influence to unite people in Jesus’s name (Acts 9:27).
• People called on Barnabas when they needed to be encouraged. Barnabas also sought out people to encourage and spent dedicated time meeting with others over the period of a year (Acts 11:22, 25-26). Because he got to know the people he spent time with, he was also able to challenge others in their spiritual growth effectively (Acts 14:3, 14-15).

When I read about his life, there is a part of me that wants Barnabas to take on more of a starring role in the story. When others defiantly hid their tithes and offerings, Barnabas was finding ways to give all that he had to the Church. When no one wanted to accept Saul into the apostles’ circle out of fear, Barnabas rallied support for him with his minority vote. When everyone needed encouraged, Barnabas helped set the tone. He was ridiculed, thrown out of places, abandoned by someone he invested real time in, his counsel was ignored, and I have to imagine that there were many times when the son of encouragement felt discouraged.

I want to know that a noble life like his gets more air time, more applause, and more appreciation on earth for going against the grain than what I read throughout the New Testament, but perhaps this very thought is where I miss the point. Barnabas knew that there was more. He understood his role and his purpose to simply give of himself with this tithes and his time.

What I gather from the text and what inspires me about Barnabas was that we often see him paired with someone else. He discipled while he encouraged others. He found strength in numbers by joining with Paul while he challenged the early Christians. He didn’t isolate himself and took joy in getting to invest in people. Acts 11 says, “for he was a good man, full of the Holy Spirit and of faith. And a great many people were added to the Lord.” I love the last “and” right there. Because Barnabas lived by and through the Holy Spirit, we get the part where people came to Christ as a result!

I want that. I want to live a life that is so tempered by the Holy Spirit and the way that I obey His whispers in my life that people come to know Jesus as a result of our proximity. Barnabas held that influence through the way encouraged and advocated for people, and through his selfless generosity. He took the spotlight off himself time and time again. As he served as an advocate, the early believers were able to know the true Advocate, the Holy Spirit.

I am so grateful for the Bible. I am so grateful to find encouragement in this book when life seems confusing and I crave all of the credit. I love that Barnabas modeled a life that tells me that I too, can do this with Jesus.
And so. can. you.

Take care & take heart,
Natalie

What do you feel when you hear the word peace? If you can picture yourself at a beach watching the waves form, you can hear the sound the ocean makes as the force of the tide rolls into the shore. I love watching the waves crash and then eclipse into salty foam, just as the water calms as it reaches your toes. That’s what I feel when I hear the word peace. It’s almost as if the strongest forces around me slowly start to still like ocean water.

Peace has been somewhat of an anthem for me over the course of the last year. After naming our son Griffin Jeffrey, Jeffrey after my dad, we came to love what the name meant. Jeffrey, in some translations, means “God’s peace.” Little did I know that peace would be the last word I would ever use to describe my son’s personality as he grew from a newborn to a one year old. So often over the last several months, I’ve felt so defeated in my desire for peace.

I bet I admit to not knowing how to parent multiple times a day. Sometimes, I vent that in frustration. Sometimes, I mentally check out when I feel exasperated. But I also find knowing that I don’t know how to fearlessly love my son the way that I want to actually helpful to admit. Sometimes I cry that out to Jesus in a desperate prayer, asking for his peace to transcend everything happening in my little world. Yesterday was one of the days.

My goal for Saturday was to spend my morning deep cleaning the apartment I had neglected all winter. So with rubber gloves on up to my elbows and two different kinds of Dran-O (thanks to my indecisiveness) I had spent way too much time mulling over the night before in an empty Target aisle, I got to work on our sinks. But Griffin.

But Griffin, who was supposed to go down for his morning nap while Hunter was at the gym, refused to sleep. Through his sound machine, my shocked gags at what was coming up from our drains, and my podcast, I could still hear his cries and it nagged me. In frustration, I tried throwing off my extra small rubber gloves that were essentially Spandex on my fingers. After seemingly endless minutes, I had worked up in my mind that I was going to let Griffin have it and hope that I could scare him into a deep sleep. But right as I had my hand on the door handle, peace came.

Instead of acting out of irritation that my whole morning had been a series of stopping and starting the tasks I so badly wanted to check off the three page to-do list, I felt God’s peace. I looked at my son with compassion that surprised me and held him as he rubbed his eyes and put his head on my shoulder. If the rest of my day had turned around because of one simple mindset shift that I honestly cannot take any credit for, then I would have nothing to write about. The moment was over in a matter of minutes, and Griffin was on to fussing about the next thing. For the rest of the day, he continued in his dissatisfaction, moving from one toy to the next..always seeming to want to play with phone cords or pulling clothes out of drawers I had just organized.

On days like this, Hunter and I are practically giddy for bed time. I gave Griffin his bath, for which lasted all of six minutes before he was over it. He tried ripping the pages out of the new Beginner’s Bible we had gotten him for Easter, so I tossed it back on the nightstand not even putting up a fight. He wiggled and squirmed in my arms as I silently started crying from my weariness. I so desperately wanted my one year old to let me hold him while he’s this small. Not a day goes by where I don’t think about how fleeting these moments are, and for me it has so often felt like I won’t have many sweet moments to remember. The kicking and crying and screaming that comes from my son so consistently…and his middle name means God’s peace?

Since birth, I have sung a song that’s been special to my family. Sometimes he cries through it, knowing he’s about to get put in his crib. Or he laughs as he tries to stick his finger up my nose (and often goes too far), or painfully grabs different parts of my face. But last night as I rocked him, he was still and looked at me intently as I sang.

May the Lord, Mighty God
Bless and keep you forever
Grant you peace, perfect peace;
Courage in every endeavor…

To the tune of Edelweiss from the Sound of Music

Even after the last line, he was still tranquil. So I sat on the guest bed next to his crib, in the dimmed room and began to read from the book of John from my phone.

We started in John 14. And there, in the text, as if Jesus knew the exact words we needed that night, it read:

But the Advocate, the Spirit of Truth, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all things and will remind you of everything I have said to you. Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled…

John 14:27, New International Version, YouVersion Bible App

As I read these words, Griffin’s eyes began to get heavy. Somewhere between Chapter 14 and 15, he drifted asleep, as I kept reading aloud through the end of John. And what I found weaved throughout the pages was that Jesus deeply and genuinely wanted peace for the people he loved (John 14:27, 16:33, 20:19, 21, 26). Perfect peace. Peace that doesn’t minimize our hardship, but can overpower it.

I love that words like this turn to verbs when Jesus gets ahold of them. We can embody peace and we can exude joy because Jesus lived a perfect life. It was still full of pain and full of suffering and yet, he was peace. It always amazes me that when I decide to love the way that Jesus loves, peace arises. Perfect peace, peace that I cannot take any credit for and or even fully understand how it happens.

Can I share something with you? Even after such a sweet moment with my son that I thought would certainly last, I still struggle with patience and desiring peace more than I want to control the situations I find myself in. Griffin is so incredibly easy to love when he is happy and for those moments, I am so grateful. In my imperfection, I don’t want my parenting to require extra effort from me.

Unconditional love is really hard. Building character in my life is remarkably challenging because it means I have to fight the ugliness in my own heart and mind. I don’t have this figured out, but what I do know is this: Jesus wants peace for our lives. He makes that so evidently clear. I find it so amazing that he spent his life on earth ensuring we could have that.

Do you believe that about him? Do you believe that a person who lived 2,000 years ago thought about you by name and desired a steadfast heart for you? I love that Thomas, his follower, had so many realistic questions for Jesus and pushed past the fear of not knowing it all in order to ask him. I have no doubt that it would have been so much easier for Thomas to internalize his hesitations about Jesus. He could’ve nodded in agreement with the other followers and put on a facade, but I love this part:

Do you want to know the first thing Jesus said to Thomas? That he wanted peace to be with him. Jesus didn’t want Thomas to feel alone with his uncertainty, he wanted Thomas to have a steadfast mind–peace!

I believe that Thomas would come to know in his heart that Jesus had a love for him that was unconditional, that his presence brought a peace that transcended all human comprehension, that Jesus too had a deep desire for truth in a confusing world, and that his questions could not possibly deter Jesus from looking at Thomas any differently. And that freed Thomas to ask Jesus whatever he wanted to ask him, just like it frees you and it frees me to have a relationship with him like that.

Maybe you’re like me or you’re like Thomas. Maybe you have no idea how to go about a certain relationship in your life or maybe you’re unsettled by decisions you have to make or maybe you are just really, really tired with your every day, ordinary life. I hope you feel safe admitting those things. Isn’t there something freeing about expressing that? And I am praying that even if you may not know what you wish you could know right now, you’ll sense perfect peace. I hope you continue to ask your questions with me as we learn how to live out of a steadfast, peaceful heart.

I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.

John 16:33, NIV

Like the ocean tide stretching to the sandy shore,
may you experience His peace reaching for you.

Take care & take heart,
Natalie