Not by Might

Throughout Lent, the 40 days leading up to Easter, we shared a reflection series called Return to Me: A Pause for Lent. We had opportunity to, like David, invite God to search our hearts for anything that has caused a breach in our relationship with him. This inspection is heavy work, but it’s also redemptive. Confession and repentance feel painful, but they are a kindness and gift from our loving Father, an invitation to return to him.

This is not, however, work that we do on our own, in a vacuum. The heart-searching of Lent and the salvation offered through Jesus’ death and resurrection on Easter meet in the work of the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit, God himself, lives in us, works in us. Beginning April 17th and leading up to Pentecost, we will share a new series on the Holy Spirit. In the meantime, we are honored to share the work that the Holy Spirit is doing in one of our own, Kyle Lara, as she laid a struggle before the Lord and he has begun to redeem it.

******************************************

Recently, I took my son to Skate-Away, and I'm grateful to have the experience of doing something like this with him. It doesn't get lost on me how fleeting and special this time is for us.  But it also isn't lost on me that if I hadn't given up alcohol for Lent and if I’d indulged in all the regular St. Patrick's Day "shenanigans," I would be too hungover and tired to even think about taking my son skating. And that would lead to feeling guilty for not being intentional and present with my family, ultimately leading to depression, anxiety, and shame.

Life without alcohol has been awesome, and I can say that as someone who genuinely enjoys the taste of beer.  It's given me a perspective that has completely changed my relationship with alcohol, and for that alone, I feel very blessed.  I keep thanking God for His grace and mercy because if it wasn't for Christ in me, I'd most likely be boastful about the success I have had with how many "dry days" I have had in a row.  There's a word for that, you know?  It's called "striving," and it's exhausting. I know this because of how hard I've been on myself when I wasn't successful at giving it up for longer than a week. I would probably be prideful in my ability to abstain as if willpower had anything to do with it.

The truth is, I am nothing and have nothing without Jesus. It's only because of His selfless and generous gift of salvation that I am not only forgiven of my sins but loved even while wading in sin knee-deep.  When you are loved here, in the wade pool, in a place of disdain for yourself and your actions, it changes you. This is the love of Jesus.  It's transformative. It's a type of kindness that leads to repentance, ultimately leading to a new way of life.  I could stay in this moment forever, because in this moment is a deep understanding that God can, does, and will forgive me.  He has given me more opportunities than I can count to choose Him again and again. See, this is His goodness, the kind that chases you down every day of your life.  This is His kindness and love for you. And this is His desire for my life.  How do I know that? I know that because I'm still here.

As I laced up some rental skates to follow my son around a roller rink for a few hours, it's not without the deep knowing that His Spirit goes with me.  It's His Spirit that is even making this moment possible.  Giving up alcohol for Lent has made it crystal clear that the flesh is weak.  My flesh loves St. Patrick's Day, green beer, and bar hopping; it hates early mornings, headaches, and hangovers.  But when we ask the Holy Spirit to lead us through the temptations of indulgence, I found that the Spirit of the living God is willing to carry me.  And I believe that it's in these moments—when I am surrounded by what truly matters and living joyfully without the one thing I thought only amplified my joy—that allows Christ to be most visible in me.  I am showing up fully present without alcohol on my breath and without regret in my heart.  It hasn't been without temptation and teeter-totter thoughts. It has been challenging and lonely at times. But it's also been incredibly rewarding.  I'm only able to show up because God loved me to this place.  This is the place where fullness becomes tangible:  full of His love, full of His peace, full of His Spirit willing to lead and love me forward. A place where filling myself with the light and love of God I've received can be shared with anyone else who wants to be here, in "this place" with Him too.

What Mercy Looks Like

Mathew Schmalz, an Associate Professor of Religion, defines “mercy" as a “love that responds to human need in an unexpected or unmerited way.”*

And as soon as I heard that definition, I asked myself, "what do I need?" As a human, I need the essentials, of course: water, shelter, and food.  But I think that God's mercy reaches beyond what I can even comprehend that I need.  He knew me and you before we even took our first breath.  His mercy extends to places of the unseen that go further and deeper than we realize.  His mercy towards us meets our needs before we know we need them.  That makes me feel seen and safe. 

As we have been recipients of such deep, rich mercies, how are we mirroring the mercy we receive towards the people in our inner circle?  How can we make our people feel seen and safe today, right now?  Is there a need that I can see with my human eyes and respond with the supernatural love that God has poured into my life? It doesn't have to be complicated. But I do believe a little forethought goes a long way.

Do you know that neighbor with 4 kids who always seems to be reversing out the driveway in her minivan with sports equipment and smudged windows?  Mercy might look like a gift card to Starbucks. 

Maybe to that friend from high school who you haven't seen in a long time but heard they received some hard news, sending a card with heartfelt words looks like mercy.

And when we are all out of ideas for the day on to whom and how to show the mercy we have received towards others—maybe that's the perfect time to fall to our knees and give thanks to God for the mercies He makes new every morning.

*Schmalz, Matthew. Mercy Matters: Opening Yourself to the Life-Changing Gift. Huntington, IN, Our Sunday Visitor, 2016.

New Found Freedom

Dear sinner,

I hope you don’t mind me addressing you in that way, but I found it be a blessing when someone points out to me just who I am. I’ll get to that later.

This blank document stares back at me as I wonder where I could even begin to start to explain the things God has done in my life through His power, strength, compassion, and kindness. I guess admitting that I don’t deserve any of it after the things I’ve done is a good place to start, knowing that maybe the person reading this sometimes also might feel like a failure.

Grace.  A simple word with deep meaning that continues to show up in my daily life every morning. Here again, given to me, when I’ve done nothing to deserve it.  I think it manifests itself in that first deep breath as an awareness settles into my heart:  God loves me.  And the proof in that is that I’m here writing this to you right now.

Where are my manners?  Hi, I’m Kyle.  My friends call me Ky.  I’m a born-again Christian with a sin-soaked past. Even after being reborn, I struggle with sin, and, to be honest, I think most Christians do, but talking about it is really hard.  I hope by writing this, I kick down a few of those bricks that keep the wall of shame separating us.  We’re all human and more alike than we are different.  And I know, because of our humanity, there is something in your life that you wish there wasn’t.  Me, too.

I remember looking in the mirror and wondering how on earth God could “choose” someone like me.  It made no sense.  I knew little about the Bible.  I had a massive blind spot when it came to sin in my own life. And if I’m being truly honest, I took God’s forgiveness of sin for granted for a long time.

My relationship with God was always there—it never disappeared by any means—but when the pandemic hit, things felt confusing.  As a full-time working mom outside the home, my morning commute, AKA “my time spent with God,” disappeared.  I used that alone time to pray, to talk to Him, to hand over worries and fears, and to relax and rest in His presence.  I would use my lunch breaks to sit in my car and read the Bible. On my way home, I’d pray for strength to continue the work of a wife and mom and pray for the patience I would need upon entering the chaos that is the Lara household.  Once the world shut down and I was home every day, waking up in chaos because my routines went out the window, I was submersed in fear of Covid-19. I felt like I couldn’t hear His voice anymore. I started to cope with stress in unhealthy ways.

It’s here that I’d like to mention my relationship with alcohol.  Before the pandemic hit, I never would have even assumed I had a problem with drinking.  I would drink socially and responsibly. It wasn’t until the world embraced a life-altering pandemic, and I didn’t know how to cope with the fear and stress it brought into my life that it became a daily habit.  It is not that I would down an entire bottle of whiskey every night, but I was drinking every single evening. I also wouldn’t ever drink to excess—there was no blacking-out, vomiting, or alcohol poisoning—but in many ways it was worse. It was not at all obvious, in fact, it was very unnoticeable and even acceptable.

As soon as I started cooking dinner, I’d grab a hard seltzer. That first sip, unknowingly, was creating a reward system connection in my brain.  I made it through another day, cheers!  Some days, one was enough, on harder days, one could easily turn into four.  And here’s something about alcohol that is really warped: It doesn’t take away anxiety, it just delays it.  That delay showed up just in time for bed, and I found myself unable to sleep.  The things I stressed about in the day that seemingly disappeared as I drank my drinks would pop into my head the minute I would lay down.  The inability to sleep is debilitating.  Don’t worry, I fixed it: I added sleeping pills to the mix.

It’s so strange writing this all down because, although I’m standing on the other side of this, I’m only now realizing the depths of trouble and darkness I was in that God pulled me out of.  Taking inventory of His goodness brings me to tears.

Every story has a breaking point, right?  Here’s mine.  I went to visit friends whom I haven’t seen in nearly two years.  In celebration of seeing my childhood best friend, we of course had a few drinks.  The funny thing was, I was so careful about not overdoing it.  I had bottles of water between my drinks, and I had a stomach full of food.  What could go wrong?  I woke up the next morning with a headache from hell.  Literally. 

It was July 4th.  Our plans were to head to the pool, then spend the night at the baseball field watching a ball game followed by fireworks.  Waking up feeling like that instantly brought on the weight of shame, which masked itself by pretending I was okay. If you know the weight of holding shame, I’m sorry.  It’s a lot, and we were never meant to hold it.  I chugged water, took some Tylenol, and headed to the pool with a heavy heart and a fake smile.

I still had fun, but it wasn’t me.  It was not the vibrant, fun-loving, young-hearted, full-of-life Ky.  It was a subdued, forcing my way through, trying hard to be happy Ky.  And no offense, but she sucks and isn’t really all that great to be around.  And of course, after spending the day feeling like crap, the only normal thing to do would be to drink again that night.  Yep, the vicious cycle continued.  This time was different though.  I knew how awful that headache was that I had just experienced, and there was no way I would want to be in the car for three hours driving home the next morning with a hangover.  I limited myself to one drink.  It didn’t even taste good.

After coming home, I craved God.  I can’t explain it other than that, and I only know that feeling because it’s not the first time in my faith-walk that I’ve wandered away.  I felt so far from Him, but thankfully there are a few places where I know I can reach Him.  One place is Riverbend Community Church.  The service that was preached July 4th was recorded online, and so on Monday, July 5th, I sat down with a basket of laundry that needed to be folded and listened to a life-changing message by Pastor Chris Dean.  He spoke about a fractured life that had come to an unnecessary end because of addiction and an eye-opening awakening that he was living that same fractured life.  BOOM.  My heart recognized the prompting of the Holy Spirit, and I knew this message was meant for me at this time.

After hearing that message and buying the book that Pastor Chris suggested, my life has been incredibly different.  I'm now 15 days sober.  I haven’t had a sip of alcohol, and the sleeping pills are no longer needed.  If you’re thinking, “Wow, what an accomplishment”, you’re right… but I hope you realize that it has nothing to do with me and everything to do with Jesus.  I mean, it’s the Gospel coming to life before your very eyes—a part of His story and His glory. And well, the fact that I get to be a part of it all makes me want to fall on my face in worship, which I do, daily, in place of my hard-seltzer habit.

In the book, John Elmore writes, “It is Christ’s will to eradicate sin and addiction from the church, and He will sanctify His bride, one person at a time, one struggle at a time, and one day at a time.” And this truth is found in Ephesians 5:25-27.

Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her, that he might sanctify her, having cleansed her by the washing of water with the word, so that he might present the church to himself in splendor, without spot or wrinkle or any such thing, that she might be holy and without blemish.

Listen, amidst the year 2020 when the pandemic was at its height, as well as my stress and fear, I tried going a day or two without alcohol and felt really proud of myself, but it was so difficult and tiresome as my mind was constantly thinking about that drink in the back fridge waiting for me after a long day.  And after that day or two would pass, I rewarded myself with double the amount I’d typically drink.  To say I’m 15 days sober is almost unbelievable, but I know it’s possible because I brought Jesus into the fight against what was made to destroy me.  And in true God-fashion, He took what was meant for my harm and turned it into something good.  Freedom.

I’ve since started a sober-living journal where I am able to write out my feelings, thoughts, struggles, and temptations as I confess to God that I can’t do another 24 hours without alcohol without His strength.  It’s my little book packed with confession, surrender, thanksgiving, and—most of all—hope for a future where I keep God first always.

There is no way I’d want to end this without telling you that this is not just me and God doing this work together.  It’s all God and then some.  God has brought the people into my life that are encouraging and keep me accountable.  He has given me a husband who is supportive and understanding.  He has given me children who deserve a present mom, not a hungover one.  He has given me a community of believers who want to see me succeed in what God has for me.  And He has given me the heart to recognize His faithfulness in my life, so that when I do mess up, I will remember that it’s in my weakness that His strength can carry me on to begin again.  One day at a time.

Special thanks to Pastor Chris for sharing his struggle and the book, Freedom Starts Today by John Elmore, which has been life-altering, and to Riverbend Community Church for not only preaching the Gospel but living it out as they walk alongside the ones who are willing.  From one sinner with struggles to another, I am forever changed because of the way Jesus loves you.  It’s His love in you that has overflowed from your heart right into mine.

A sinner with a Savior,

Ky

Ask

During this pandemic we’ve become aware of what a global crisis looks like. We’ve seen lines of sick people being turned away from hospitals and families out of work, some not knowing where their next meal will come from. Businesses are shut down while some shut their doors for good.

We’ve seen the hurt, the anger, and the sadness of others bring hurt, anger, and sadness to us all. We’ve felt it ourselves and maybe even projected our fears on to those around us. There is no one on this earth that this hasn’t touched. Our lives have been changed, and although we are all experiencing this at the same time, we aren’t experiencing it the same way.

God sees all of us as we are, yet we sometimes see ourselves in comparison to what we see on the news or what we see online. We compare what we are facing to what someone else might be facing and we know it could always be worse. So we stuff down the anxiety and we push through harder. We might numb out with whatever brings relief and we forget that God is the helper right here.

One day I woke up with terrible back pain, twisted up and aching. I showed up at work and sat miserably at my desk for 8 hours and even with Motrin in my system, I still felt like Bruce Lee had dropped kicked me off the top of a 10 foot building. My patience was short and my fuse was shorter.  When I am hurting, everything seems terrible. It’s bad news bears and the dark cloud follows and remains. When the work day had come to an end, I groaned knowing my next job, mothering my two boys would begin. I buckled my seatbelt and on the way home I asked God to take the pain away. I asked again and then I stopped at a red light. The world kept spinning, but here at this stop light, this life moment paused, my soul was still.

I heard the whisper of God deep in my heart say to me, “Did you ask someone to pray for you?”

I swallowed hard. I did not.

My thoughts started to somersault. I can’t ask someone to pray for my stiff neck, that’s silly. There are people on this planet who are sick, dying, and diseased and they need healing. 

Light still red, I realized I was limiting my Father. I was limiting the amount of healing to be had. I was drawing lines in the sand of who deserves healing and who does not. The conviction made me sweat.

“Who?” I asked out loud, sounding much braver than I felt.

And right then a name of a woman I know was impressed onto my heart. A hot tear rolled down my cheek which tends to happen when I feel God asking me to grow by way of making me more uncomfortable than any stiff neck and achy back could ever feel.

I picked up the phone and I started a voice message to my friend that went something like this: “Hey, it’s me. This is so weird and random, I know. But I’ve been in pain all day and I really don’t like myself when I feel like this, and I was wondering if maybe you aren’t too busy, if you could pray for the pain in my neck and my back to be taken. Sorry I’m weird and sorry if this made you feel uncomfortable too, but I asked God who should I ask to pray for me, and He whispered your name.”

The next ten minutes I drove home in silence, awkward silence. Did I really just ask my friend to pray for a stiff neck?

Right as I pulled into the driveway my phone alerted and I saw a voice message pop up from my friend. My thumb hit play and her message was a prayer of healing over my pain and over my heart. She said everything only the Holiest of Spirits would know to say. Another hot tear rolled down my cheek. With my head bowed in the car, sitting in my driveway, I felt a warmth come through my body from the top of my head, flooding down my spine, straight on through the tips of my toes and instantly the pain was gone. All the way gone. This time tears of relief and disbelief that God saw me burst from my eyes as gratitude bubbled up from a place that had been buried deep.

                  I won’t forget that day. I was hurting in a way that was affecting me personally and God saw that, He saw me. God saw that I needed help, but He was teaching me something very valuable. He taught me that even if He chose not to take the pain away that day, that He’s given me community that doesn’t get scared off when I ask them to pray for me. He’s taught me that He doesn’t compare my hard day to someone else’s hard day. He’s taught me that vulnerability with trusted friends deepens relationships and builds trust. But most importantly, He taught me that I don’t need to be in a crisis to ask for help.

                  I know that we are all facing this pandemic together, but that the way we are experiencing it varies greatly from one person to the next. I don’t know what you are walking through today, but I know Someone who does. And if you needed a friendly reminder, let it be known that you are a valued, seen, and loved child of God. He is the Helper. And He will put people on your path that can, will, and want to help. You just need to ask.

Psalm 54:4 | Behold, God is my helper; the Lord is the upholder of my life.