Tag Archives: relationship

Tribute to Barry Lubbe

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In the church world, we have an oxymoronic reference known as “church hurt.” It is the unfortunate experience of many. It means we feel hurt by the church. In truth, we are hurt by people who happen to be in the church. When the people who hurt us are leaders, we tend to hold the institution responsible. Sadly, it can lead to anger and ultimately, the personal exodus from the church.

On the brink of my personal exodus, God spoke clearly: “the church is My idea, not man’s.” I was therefore resolved to re-enter the church knowing it was the only path for healing. God and His church didn’t hurt me. People did. This truth, which helped me separate offense with the church from offense with people, propelled me toward the church, specifically Living Faith church. I am so grateful it did!

I first visited Living Faith church in January 2013. I sat in the back and observed with a bit of fear and trepidation. It was an awkward Sunday filled with uncertainty and insecurity. Is this place safe? Is God here? Will I be welcome? I returned the following Sunday and boldly sat on the first row with a friendly and familiar face from the past. I was embraced and welcomed! Shortly thereafter, I met a woman named Grace, who greeted me with a hug. Would I find grace here?

As the service began, Pastor Barry, who at that time sat on the stage in an overstuffed orange chair, gave me a little wave. It was weird! Taken a bit off guard, I asked the familiar face next to me if he was indeed waving at me. He was! So I waved back. He then proceeded to walk from the stage to meet me. He shook my hand and asked my name. Interestingly, it was another six months before I knew his name. But he knew my name. And every Sunday thereafter, he made a point to greet me by name.

In the same service, God spoke intimately to me: “I will demonstrate My power to you in this church.” And so, Living Faith became my church home.

Because I did not know Pastor Barry’s name, I referred to him as Father Pastor. It is how I distinguished him from his son who was the primary speaker, at that time. It was a fitting reference because that’s what he was. A father. His simple act of greeting me by name every Sunday was one of the most healing salves along my journey from “church hurt.”

I met Christ when I was 28 years old. He disputed my atheism with Truth and shared with me the immeasurable love of the Father, my Father. Coming out of atheism, I began to rejoice in and declare everyday that there is a God in heaven. Yes, there is a God in heaven! But there is more. There is a God in heaven and He knows my name. He knows me and loves me in spite of all I have done.

And so, Father Pastor, who greeted me by name every Sunday, became to me a representation of my Father in heaven who knows my name. His presence and acceptance became my safety in the church. I was safe to worship and celebrate the glory of God with and in the church. Healing began.

Barry Lubbe

I regret not sharing with him how instrumental he was in helping me heal. How God used him mightily to represent the Father’s love, power, and authority on earth. So many of us have this story! By now, he knows and has been assured of his faithfulness by the Father Himself. It is not good-bye, but until next we meet. I look forward to celebrating and worshipping with Father Pastor once again.

The God who Breathes

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Moving and settling into the New Year, God has been speaking to me about breathing. It seems fitting considering the exceptionally cold winter this year. It’s hard to ignore the winter breath that escapes when I walk outside!

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While one might assume that life is all about choices, the miracle that is our respiratory system disagrees. This is what fascinates me about breathing. It’s is an involuntary response to life. We don’t choose to breathe, but it’s necessary for our survival. Not only that, the nuances of our breath, or breathing patterns, can be evidence of our state of mind or physical well being. For example, in this cold weather breathing can be challenging with congested sinuses. I also find breathing challenging any time I attempt a light afternoon jog! Perhaps this is evidence my physical state could use some improvements.

Though breathing is an involuntary response to life, external and internal factors affect it. Consider the impact of emotions. We experience a rapid rate of breath when fear /adrenaline / anxiety / stress kick in. Or, when we’re in a state of calm, peace, and spiritual rest, our breathing slows and deepens. These are extreme references and other physiological variables play a role, but studies show that respiration is altered by all sorts of emotions. Conversely, studies also indicate that we can alter our emotions by adjusting our breathing patterns.

I learned the impact of breathing from Buddhists monks in Nepal. I was working with a missionary family who had an outreach to Tibetan Buddhists. To better understand Buddhism, we took an immersion course in Buddhism at a lovely monastery. My intent for this course was to learn how to communicate with Buddhists and bridge the gap to Christ. It was an incredible experience and I had many powerful encounters with Jesus. We would spend hours sitting on little pillows practicing meditation and breathing. Through these exercises I learned how to quiet my body and my mind through intentional breathing. I learned how to focus. I learned how to step into my “prayer closet” and into stillness amidst the chaos around me.

God has been reminding me of this kind of intentional breathing; of the value of breathing with Him, at His pace, instead of my own. Yes, our God breathes.

There are two significant moments relayed in scripture of God breathing. The first is in the beginning. In Genesis 2:7:

Then the Lord God formed man of dust from the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living being.

The second significant occurrence of God breathing is after Jesus declared, “It is finished.” In His resurrected state, he appears to the disciples. We read in John 20:21-22 (emphasis mine):

So Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you; as the Father has sent Me, I also send you.” And when He had said this, He breathed on them and *said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit.”

As evidenced in both of these passages of Scripture, when God breathes, life is birthed. He breathes peace within us. And with peace, we have authority over our emotions and our response to life’s circumstances. I believe that we are intended to breathe that peace, power, authority, and life into the world. Into ourselves as well as others.

That God breath – just like our natural breath – is always with us. God is ever present in the most intimate of ways. There is an element of intimacy to breathing. Think about how near God must have been to the first person to breath life into him. Or how near Jesus was to the disciples when He released the Holy Spirit. God is as near as our breath.

There’s an Old Testament passage — 1 Kings 19:1-12 — that I often run to when stress is high and I’m out of breath. When the mountain of tasks seems to overwhelm. When the chaos around me feels unrelenting and I begin to retreat into the darkness of negativity. In those moments, I remember Elijah on Mount Horeb. To put it in context, Elijah is on the run. He’s just witnessed God bring fire from heaven marking a great victory. God is clearly with him! Yet, a mortal threat against his life sends him packing. He’s fearful and tired and just wants to hide. Eventually, he finds himself holed up in a cave. I’ve been in that cave of negative thoughts and emotions. It’s a dark place. This is where Elijah found Himself. It is also where he found God.

I’m comforted by the words of St. Porphyrios, “Do not fight to expel the darkness from the chamber of your soul. Open a tiny aperture for light to enter and the darkness will disappear.”

God made himself known to Elijah in the cave and said, “What are you doing in here? I’m not in here. Come to where I am.” Or as Jesus said centuries later, “Come to me all who are weary and heavy-laden.”

Elijah then has a revelation in God’s invitation. This is captured in verses 11-12. If you’ll allow me some interpretive license:

Elijah saw a great and strong wind was rending the mountains and breaking the rocks. It was chaos around him. An absence of control. “Don’t focus on the storm. I’m not in the wind.” And after the wind, Elijah experienced an earthquake. The ground unsettled beneath his feet and his foundation rocked. His direction was lost. “Don’t focus on the earthquake. I’m not in the earthquake.” After the earthquake a fire ignited. It was overwhelming and destructive like those all-consuming negative thoughts. “Don’t focus on the fire. I’m not in the fire.”  And after the fire a sound of a gentle blowing. “Focus here. I am the gentle blowing. The still small voice. The whisper in your ear. The intimate breath on your face.”

Breathe with Me. Breathe as I breathe. Breathe Me in. Breathe out Life.

If we breathe out what we breathe in, then breathe deeply of the Lord. Lift your eyes with every inhale. See the miracles of life around you as you exhale. Then, breathe deeper.

Let everything that has breath praise the Lord. Praise the Lord! (Psalm 150:6)

The God Who Runs

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The expression of a God who runs is what kick-started my meditation on the loving actions of God. In fact, it’s what I meditate on the most. Can you picture a God who runs? The Creator of the Universe running? Upon first inspection, it’s not very regal. To me, it’s a deep expression of love and romance. Little stirs my spirit more swiftly than God running toward me.

This example of the God who runs is beautifully described in the Parable of the Prodigal Son. I wonder if, because of this parable, the word “prodigal” has developed a negative connotation in the common language. After all, the story refers to a son who wastes away his inheritance. However, as I’ve studied and explored this parable over the years, it seems to me a story that is more about a prodigal father than son. The word prodigal implies giving in abundance, lavishly, or in extravagance. This aptly describes the father who lavishly loves his son. The father’s love is so full that he prematurely and freely gives his son an abundant inheritance. After his son wastes it away, the father not only welcomes his son home, but showers him with gifts and honor. What kind of a father is this who seemingly wastes his love on a rebellious, good for nothing son?

Early in my faith journey with Christ, a young man described God as One who lets go. He doesn’t lock people in a cage and demand their love. Instead, He let’s them go and waits for them to return. This is my story and could be why the parable of the prodigal father touches me deeply. It’s a story of a father who lets go and waits. The climax is in the run.

What was this father waiting for? An apology? A refund? No. He waited for the son he loved. Everyday, he waited and looked for his wandering offspring. Why? The father knew the son’s life was at stake. In the Hebrew culture at the time, such rebellious and squandering behavior was not just a crime against the family. It was a crime against the community and punishable by stoning. If the son were to return, he would face the consequence: death. So, the father waited.

One day, he saw the figure of a man in the distance and knew his son was returning home. I can see it now. It was a matter of life and death. So the father ran. He ran to embrace his son. No apologies. No explanations. Then, he clothed his son in the traditional, symbolic garments that identified him as a member of the family: robe, ring, sandals. Celebration ensued.

God runs. He also instructs us to run and to run with endurance the race that is set before us (Hebrews 12:1). Endurance in running comes from practice, as any runner will share. When I run, I set incremental goals for myself. My internal thought process is something like, “If I can just make it to the next light post. OK, made it. Now, if I can just make it to that big tree.” And so on. We have a promise in scripture that endurance for the spiritual race comes as we continually fix our eyes on Jesus (Hebrews 12:2). Imagine my endurance to run when I see Jesus who “never lost sight of where he was headed—that exhilarating finish in and with God. . .“ (Hebrews 12:1-3, MSG).

God runs to us. He also runs with us. In 1992, Dereck Redmond, the Olympian, experienced this first-hand. Maybe you know the story. Dereck was favored to win the 400-meter race. Half-way through, he fell to the ground in agonizing pain with a torn hamstring. But he didn’t give up. His eye was fixed on the prize. He was going to finish. His loving father ran to his side and carried him to the finish line. This image of love — a father running to his son — is seared in the depths of my spirit. It embodies who Father God is to me.

Click below to watch a father’s love in action.

 

When I picture Father God, I picture the God who runs. He ran to save my life. He asked nothing in return except to lavishly bestow me with the gifts that name me daughter. His daughter. He runs with me today. He helps me keep sight of where I’m going — that exhilarating finish in and with Him.

The God Who Walks

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John_William_Waterhouse_-_The_Soul_of_the_Rose,_1903

The Soul of the Rose, John Waterhouse

Over the last few months, I’ve been meditating on the actions of God, specifically as they relate to His love. Sometimes, I’m so focussed on the BIG actions or the fulfillment of BIG promises that I overlook the small and the simple acts of my Father God. This focus overflows into my physical relationships, as well. Time often reveals that the simple, small, and consistent acts are the most comforting, the most missed, and the greatest demonstrations of love.

For example, my loving husband makes me breakfast every morning. It is his pleasure to do this for me. If left unchecked, I could contort this daily practice into an expectation as opposed to an act of love. If I were to expect breakfast every morning, I would miss my husband’s heart. My focus would turn inward to myself and to my own satisfaction. God forbid! My hope and desire is to convey my love for my husband and express my thanks and joy in all that he does for me, no matter how small or how often.

I have the same hope and desire in my relationship with God. Yet, I take Him for granted. Let’s take walking, for example. It’s a simple enough act that I often overlook. The God who walks. So what? In the beginning, God walked in the garden. It was His delight — I daresay His pleasure — to walk amidst and with His Creation and His beloved, Adam and Eve. We all know the story. After the devastation of disobedience by His beloved, Adam and Eve hid from their Father. So focused on themselves, they were unable to share in God’s Presence (Genesis 3:8).

Whether it be fear or shame, I’m asking myself how often I follow in the shadow of Adam and Eve and hide from God’s invitation to walk with Him.

Enoch walked with God. This is all we really know of him. He walked in God’s pleasure until he was no more (Genesis 5:24). What a legacy! What an epithet! Noah also walked with God and through his obedience saved humankind (Genesis 5:9-22). Then, at some point in the Hebrew tradition, walking with God shifted to walking before God or walking in the ways of God. Until Jesus came. He brought restoration.

With the arrival of Jesus, we see the fulfillment of God’s promise to walk among us and be our God (i.e. Leviticus 26:12). Our God is a God who walks. I believe the invitation to walk with Him is perpetually extended, but the choice — the daily choice — is ours. Mine. Jesus invites everyone to come with Him. “Walk with me and work with me. . .,” He says (Matthew 11: 28-30, MSG, emphasis mine). “Watch how I do it.” This is an intimate call to His Presence. Watch how I walk. How I speak. How I love.

I am moved by God’s call to intimacy with Him. Who am I to walk with the King? I have no gift to offer. Even now I see the warmth of his invitation. “Come. Take a stroll with me. Let us talk of the things on your heart. Allow Me to impart My love, My wisdom, My grace.”

And look! The King, the God of all, He matches my pace so that we walk side-by-side, stride-by-stride. Though I walk through the darkest valley, I fear nothing; for He is with me (Psalm 23:4). In fact, He will never leave. He will always walk with me. And when I pause or stray and become distracted with myself, He waits and whispers my name until my focus is once again completely on Him. Seek me first and all you need will be provided (Matthew 6:33).

Today, I rejoice in the God who walks. . .with me.

Holding the Door

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It’s a new season! With every new year comes a renewed sense of goal-setting, excitement for new adventures, and curiosity for what the year might offer. There’s also the unique pleasure of turning our backs on the old year and brightly looking forward to the next. For many, the first day of the year brings the desire to spring-clean, release old (bad) habits, and start new things. It’s a time for change permanently marked by the calendar every 365 days.

What doesn’t ever change—no mater what day it is—is the constant, ever present, ever accessible presence of God. Sometimes that presence is thick and tangible. I like to refer to that experience as a God Encounter.

This morning I walked briskly through the cold to reach my office building. From another path, an older, white-haired gentleman emerged about 100-150 yards in front of me. Our destination was clearly the same, though he was bound to arrive before me. When he reached the door, he opened it—as expected—and waited. He turned toward me and watched me approach with a hospitable smile on his face. His pleasant voice shouted, “I must hold the door for you. It’s not in my nature to close it.”

I drew closer and crossed the threshold where we exchanged the normal pleasantries and bid one another a good day. But as I continued walking through the building the love of God warmed me from the inside out.

Scriptures suggest we may encounter angels in the faces of strangers (Hebrews 13:2). Although I cannot say if this man were angel or not, I can confidently confide in you the words of God, my Father, in that moment. “It is my great pleasure to not only open doors for you, but to hold them open until you arrive and cross the threshold.”

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It’s the first week of the new year and I am five days into it. Already, I am overwhelmed by the vast love of God as each day unfolds new evidence of His presence. Today, I receive a powerful addition to my faith, for God has clearly spoken and promised his great pleasure to hold the door for me. What a God Encounter!

God Desires

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In my pursuit of Christ, it has not ever been a stretch to acknowledge what God is capable of. In short, anything! I have a track record and stories to confirm the magnificence of God and His ability. Nothing is impossible for Him who is able to do far more abundantly beyond all we ask or imagine (Ephesians 3:20). What could be more exciting or revelatory? What could be more assuring than knowing God can do it? Whatever it is, God can do it. But will He?

Over the last fews years, I have started a new meditation focusing less on what God can do and more on what God desires to do. I recall a key moment in my exploration of divine healing where my eyes were opened to this deeper Truth. Truth — the capital “T” kind — is remarkable. What makes it remarkable is the progressive revealing of its depths. I never doubted that God could heal, that he was able to heal. In fact, I almost took it for granted that God heals the sick, the lame, the deaf, the blind. Of course He does! He’s God. Yet, in all those years of nearsighted acceptance of this Truth, it never occurred to me that He wants to heal.

incense-smokeWhat a difference it makes to distinguish between the ability of God and the desire of God. This seemingly minor exchange of words—ability for desire—is radically transforming my meditations, my prayer-life, my understanding of healing, my relationship with Father God, as well as my outward mindset.

The deeper I dive into this new notion of God’s desire the more certain I am of God’s love for me and the stronger my trust in Him becomes. It is as if in this meditative dance, our embrace strengthens and the space between us lessens. And as our spirits mingle in the delight of God’s desire, I find myself craving not only more of Him for me, but more of Him for others. How my heart breaks for those who feel excluded from God’s blessing! Who confess God’s ability but fall short of recognizing His unrestricted desire. It applies to all. Just as a parent desires the best for their child, when well-behaving or misbehaving, so God desires.

His desire to heal, to create, to bless, to prosper, to speak, to dance, to inhabit praises, to be present must not remain a secret or unrevealed Truth. The difference between seeking God for what He can do and seeking God for what He desires to do, is knowing who He is: Love. He doesn’t heal because He can. He heals because He loves. He doesn’t create because He can. He creates because He loves. And so on and so on.

Now, when I pray, I pray with the growing confidence of God’s love for me and for others.  Instead of pleading with God, “God, I know you can do it so please just do it,” I thank Him. “Thank you, Father God, for your love and your blessing. Thank you that you desire my health, my healing, my provision, my (insert need).”

Lastly, as I meditate on God’s desire, I also meditate on an equally profound promise. He chose me, and appointed me that I would go and bear fruit, and that my fruit would remain, so that whatever I ask of the Father in Jesus name He may give to me (John 15:16). Because He loves.

Disfigured to Beauty

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In the moments God moves upon us, we are hard-pressed to not pause and give Him our full attention. Surrender renders the greatest reward; for, in surrender we know the kiss of God.

Today, in a moment with God, He overwhelmed me with compassion for the broken, specifically the deformed. There is an incredible story of Jesus touching a leper in the Matthew 8:1-3. From the first reading of this passage, it was not the healing power of Jesus that impacted me, but His willingness to touch. A leper. Outcast. Untouchable. Unacceptable. Disgraced. Disfigured. What attention he must have drawn from onlookers as they scurried away and hid their eyes so as to avoid contact. How the children must have pointed and screamed in disgust. Perhaps even laughed.

I think of this leper and what he must have felt. How hard it must have been to walk in public, in daylight. He must have feared the reactions of those he might encounter remembering the countless times people ran from him or ignored him altogether. A life in hiding, afraid to be seen. What a poor existence, robbed of experience, relationship, and joy when the world around you continually devalues you and labels you ugly and unworthy. Such imposed shame is crippling.

Yet, Jesus, unafraid and full of love, dared to do what no one else would even consider. He reached out His hand to touch the untouched. I believe it was the mere touch that healed. What power therein lies. Love passed from flesh to flesh, spirit to spirit. I can only imagine the moment Jesus’s skin connected with the leper’s. The moment they made eye contact. What joy and freedom must have erupted from deep within this man who’s beauty had never been realized until that second.

Love is the Beauty of the Soul

Disfigurement, like beauty, is more than skin deep. Many of us hide an inner disfigurement suffering the same feelings of shame and accepting the same labels as did this leper. I am one who has struggled to overcome an inner leprosy. In my pursuit of Christ, I am overcoming. Unlike the leper, or one who suffers from physical deformities, healing of inner disfigurement is not always instantaneous as results cannot be seen with the naked eye. In truth, this kind of healing is a progressive process of awareness. The healing is already complete. The journey is becoming and receiving who we are to Christ. Loved and accepted.

In this season of advent as we celebrate the Holy Child who was born for us as Savior, I celebrate His finished work of beauty in me and in all those around me. Like the leper, I have been touched by the hand of God, healed and made whole. I am learning I am beautiful and without deformity simply because He says so.

To all who hide their faces in shame, fear not. To all who have believed the lie that they are the ugly duckling, fear not. You are a swan and you are free to fly. Christ’s finished work is the revelation of His beauty in us. Allow Him to connect with you, flesh to flesh and spirit to spirit. See the love in His eyes as He looks upon you. Dare to see your reflection.

Love is revealing one’s beauty to themselves. This is what happens when we are touched by God. What happens when you touch someone?