Unloading the Camel

I have a great appreciation for the story of the Rich Young Man (found in Matthew 19, Mark 10, and Luke 18). Many of us who are familiar with this story have often heard it equated to a love for money and sacrifice for the Kingdom of God—which I am not denying. But, as I read it recently for probably the 100th time, I gathered something else from the words of Jesus to this curious man.

The man wanted to know what he must do to inherit an eternity with God. Apparently, he was a man who obeyed the Law and also possessed great wealth. This is important because riches in that day were thought to be an indicator of God’s favor. Wealth was said to be an index of a person’s spiritual state. Therefore, the man had probably until this time bore his wealth quite proudly as an assurance of his salvation.

And then came the unexpected announcement of Christ: Sell it. It’s worthless. It’s not what I’m looking for.

In fact, Jesus went so far as to say that a camel could more easily pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter his Kingdom.

There is much debate about this analogy, but I find it quite interesting that the “Eye of the Needle” was also a phrase used to describe a small entrance in large gates for passengers on foot. The large gates were opened only for pack-bearing animals (i.e. camels carrying a large load). For one of these animals to even have a hope of fitting through this small, single-person entrance, it would have to remove all of its packs.

The Rich Young Man had loaded his life with his own idea of “spiritual indicators.” He was like a camel, bearing his hefty load with pride. Much like him, we often stack our backs high with good deeds, the “right” words, and dutiful devotion times—packing for our self-navigated trip into the Kingdom of Heaven. We compose man-made indications of our spiritual relationship to God, and we follow them like a script. We put on our suits and ties and our best Sunday dress, we set our timer and pray until it dings, memorize our bible verses, and promise to save one more soul. With our checklist, we dutifully pack our bags for eternity.

And then God says, “Unload the camel.”

It’s not the way in. The loads we attempt to bear are often endured in vain, and to get through the eye of that needle, we have to let it all go.

I am not discounting the relevance of spiritual discipline, nor the importance of intentional sacrifice for the Kingdom. But I have to wonder at times if we have mistaken these things as a means to an end. When we unpack our camels, what is left? What are we without the things we do? To be more clear, what is in our hearts? What is our heart’s attitude towards God? What is our heart's attitude towards the ones we love... and even those we don't?

Do we love from the deepest corners of our heart... or do we spend our time looking for more self-serving novelties to pack away in the luggage of our soul?

God has really challenged me to unload my camel and examine my heart underneath. More than anything else, I want my heart to be pure before Him. And even if it means stripping my devotion to everything else, I want to be able to fit through that door.

If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing. (1 Corinthians 13:1-3)

Reposted from my original blog: http://betsywhitsitt.blogspot.com

gerbil blanket

You may not be familiar with gerbil blankets, so let me introduce you. I once took up crocheting, and much to my surprise, I caught on rather quickly. Moved with passion to create a beautiful scarf for myself all those years ago as winter approached (and hopefully many more for my friends), I sat daily and worked the yarn in and out and up and over in a quest of warm, fluffy splendor. And then something terrible happened.

L . I . F . E .

I was whisked away from my colorful kingdom of hooks and yarn and lured into the world of busy-ness that so consumes us all. This world battled against the kingdom of crocheting, and in as much, my “scarf” was left behind. Too long in length to be considered a “dish cloth,” but not long enough to claim the title of “scarf,” I deemed my creation a gerbil blanket. And if I had a gerbil, I am certain he would snuggle up under it with pride.

I still have my gerbil blanket, and in the last year or so, I have thought occasionally about retrieving it from its pit of abandonment to continue toward its original purpose of being a proud and cozy scarf. Isn’t that, after all, what all little gerbil blankets want- to grow up to be a scarf?

Well, ironically enough, I have suddenly been forced to find the time for such things as crocheting.

One small stint in the hospital with this darling little one, and I’m off my feet and chugging water like there’s no tomorrow. A few hours spent (re-)teaching myself, and I'm in yarn heaven. I must admit, however, that at this point, my crocheting hopes and dreams are leaning more towards a soft turquoise-blue baby blanket than a gerbil blanket-turned-scarf.


Maybe someday little gerbil blanket… Someday your day will come, and I will rescue you from your lonely, tucked away demise.

Until then, my little gerbil blanket reminds me that it’s never too late to grow in purpose, to do the right thing, to make changes that need to be made. That’s the joy of life in Christ. Grace is on our lives to enable us to be who we were created to be, whether we stopped in the middle and took another route, or we got all tangled up in the ever-weaving yarn of our lives. It’s never too late to seek after your God-ordained purpose. It’s never too late to rekindle a friendship that has been left behind. It’s never too late to speak the words “I’m sorry.” And it’s never too late to try again.

enough

A few short months ago, I encountered courage like I had never seen before. And it was not my own. This courage was housed in the battered heart of young girl who has known pain that I could never dream of. As she unfolded story after story to me of sorrow, grief, abuse, neglect, and despair, I couldn’t help but wonder for her, "Why this cross, Lord?" From the pit of her hardened soul she was crying out to me the grievances stricken upon her young and fragile life, repeating over and over that she could never be enough.

Those words pierced my heart like an arrow.

It was something we shared. You might share it with us too. Not good enough.

The journey to be good enough in my own mind was a long one for me, and it reached its peak when I was about 18 years old. I had given up life as I knew it to study ballet, and I struggled to fight toe to toe with other long-legged, stick thin figures to win the prize of a starring role under glistening lights before sold out crowds. I was darkly compelled by the searing blisters on my feet and the gurlgling empty belly of a body that longed to be fed, but was neglected in favor of losing a pound and gaining accolades. But no matter how much of a beating my body and soul took from its master, there was always the continuous nagging of not being good enough. It was relentless. And it was about SO much more than my body or snug fitting pointe shoes and tutus.

For some time, even years after I evaded the world of ballet, the quest to be good enough followed me around like a dark shadow, etching away at my heart and chiseling away any remaining fragments of the Truth that I had left behind so many years ago…

The young girl I met a few months ago left Truth behind too. The demands of her grief and the pain of her world rendered the Truth meaningless in her heart. It was a stark reality that shook me to the core of my being.

"For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago." Ephesians 2:10

Oh, that this young, courageous girl would find hope in the Truth again.

May it be a treasure we all clutch close to our hearts and protect for eternity.

stir

Some of my favorite things require a good stir every now and then:

my coffee

a good homemade soup

a fresh can of paint

What about our spirit? I don't know about you, but I certainly require a stirring of my faith from time to time. And what better way to do so than in relationship?

meet Melissa

More often than not, the stirring of our faith comes from doing life with one another... my friendship with Melissa is no different. I am continuously challenged by her faith and by her ability to be vulnerable with God, even in the most bleak of circumstances.

So when you're challenged to stay put instead of moving forward with God, find a stir. You'll probably find it in relationship, if they're Godly.

Life isn't meant to be done alone. And you never know, your journey may be clearing the path for someone else.

No words

Olive Hope Polinder went home to be with Jesus yesterday evening. Our hearts are filled with such overwhelming sadness as we think about the incredible loss Rusty and Lynette must feel after these long months of strife, heartache, miracles, and prayer. It seems there are not enough words in the universe to describe the impact this little life has had on our personal faith in recent months. I've been grasping for them for hours now, only to find an ocean of tears.

Olive was born at the end of September 2009 to her missionary parents in Chaing Rai, Thailand, at only 28 weeks, and suffered a severe intracranial brain hemorrhage. When we heard of the need for prayer for her life, something captured both Jason and I and latched onto our hearts... Perhaps it was the leading of the Holy Spirit, perhaps it was our sensitivity to these friends and new parents in need as we were desperate to become parents ourselves... probably both. And so we committed ourselves to fasting and prayer for tiny Olive Hope Polinder, oceans away but tied to our hearts in a way that only the love of God can explain.

About a year ago, I was diagnosed with a tumor in my brain that (among other things) the doctors said could keep us from having children. We were devastated. We stated our faith, sought the prayers of friends and family and our church, and kept moving on with life, but in all honesty, it was a battle we sincerely struggled with very privately. Especially me. There were many days that my faith grew weak and my hope diminished, and I angrily stormed the gates of heaven with demands to understand the unfair anguish that had been cast upon us.

And then Fall blew into our lives with its swift, cool winds, and one day we heard the desperate cry for prayer from the Polinder family. We watched our Savior perform miracle after miracle in Olive's body and our faith was strengthened... We were reminded that God can do the impossible. We were reminded of His goodness in all things, even when circumstances cast their dark and eerie shadows. Little did we know that in the very days that we first committed ourselves to prayer and fasting for little Olive Hope, a new life was being conceived within us.

We consider Olive to be such an integral part of our journey over these recent months. Today the words are hard to find and the tears come freely as we celebrate what her life meant to so many. When I meet her in heaven, I can't wait to find out if she knows that she restored faith in my soul and hope for my heart. I can't wait to see her dancing in the streets of heaven next to the life that I am carrying within me.

Olive's life was the perfect example of the very purpose of human creation: She brought glory and honor to God. We will never stop telling her story.

in a flash

July 6, 2006

I was driving home late tonight in the middle of one of the most amazing storms I have seen in quite some time. The lightning was spectacular. Huge raindrops were beating against my windshield and the road had that slick, wet glisten on it that makes it hard to see when it rains at night. But I didn’t mind driving slow—I was enjoying the lightning.

The lightning made me think about God, about the way he shows up in our lives sometimes. As I watched the jet black sky abruptly being lit up by bolts of electricity, I remembered all of the times that God has broken into my world—completely out of nowhere, when everything was dark and the rains poured all around me—unannounced, He was there.

With God, things have the potential to turn around in an instant. As I heard one pastor put it, "Trusting in God changes all the possibilities." I have come to realize that I never know just when an answer to my prayers is going to come. Time and time again, God sweeps in and lights up my world without warning.

I wrote this back in 2006, and while it’s been a while since I’ve seen a good lightning storm, I remember that night vividly. And almost four years later, the simple truth hasn’t changed (and it never will): God is waiting at every turn to break into our world.

So if the rains are pouring down, be encouraged. When the sky is dark, and your journey is slowed by the blinding downpour of life around you, turn on your headlights, watch carefully for glimpses of your Savior, and keep going forward. Trusting in God changes all the possibilities.

Let us not grow weary...

Galatians 6:9 (New International Version)

Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.

I couldn't get this verse off my mind today. Much of the reasoning is due to some difficult conversations Jason and I have been having about the struggles of leading a church and dedicating our lives to the calling of God to shepard His sheep. I had never thought before about the fact that shepards live their lives alone with their sheep.

Alone.

It's such a scary word. We've all been alone before.

As I think about this verse, I think about what it is to be alone, and what it is to be the community of Christ - the Church, to one another. To love, to share, to remember, to encourage. Maybe it's just to BE with someone. To help one another to not grow weary.

I think about Rusty, Lynette, and little Olive, and how they need our prayers just as much today as they did in the first struggling moments of Olive's life (you can read the beginning of Olive's story here).

Let us not become weary in doing good...

Olive, Lynette, and Rusty need us to not grow weary... We must press on. We must pray. Like the lone shepard, let us- the Church- tend to the flock given to us.

(You can read more updates about Olive at http://rustylynette.blogspot.com/)