Leaving

by Heidi Ashe

“We’ve left our church.” Never have those words been harder to say than to my precious 86-year-old granny. She loves our church. She’s been our guest on many occasions and she always tells me that she just feels the Spirit there and “Oh, I just loved that song your choir sang!”

So when my husband and I felt the call to leave our church, I couldn’t bear to tell my granny. So I didn’t, until she asked about our sweet country preacher and I had to fess up. My explanation was rushed and I remember shuffling my feet and looking down a lot, even though I was talking to her on the phone. She didn’t scold me as I expected. The line was quiet on her end as I explained that quite some time ago Chris mentioned that he felt the Lord leading us elsewhere. “I fought him on it for a while,” I told her. “It’s our home, we love it there,” I explained, “I brought my babies to that church.”

“But then I felt my heart changing too,” I mumbled not quite as confidently. “It’s been hard but we’ve been visiting lots of places,” I said. And it was the truth. Every word of it. It has been hard. But as hard as it’s been, it’s been right.

I can’t say that I understand God’s plan at the moment, but I’m learning to lean more on Him. If that is all I gain from this, that will be enough. My husband and I were active members at our small church so this change has been drastic. We firmly believe in the local church. The Bible says “where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I among them.” (Matthew 18:20) We long to be with Jesus’ people, with fellow believers. We know that’s where He wants us and where we’ll grow the most. We’ve talked to our kids about why we’ve made this change and while I know it’s been hard on them too, they’ve been amazing. Walking confidently into each new place of worship, shaking hands, and being on their very best behavior.

I remember one Sunday evening telling my husband that they’re all just so different, referring to the many different places we’ve visited and he said something that resounded within my soul. “Well of course they are, so are all of us,” he said, “God made us all differently and we don’t all worship the same.” Dang. How perfectly right he is.

It’s been a year now and we’ve learned a lot in the leaving. A lot in the visiting. A lot in the shaking hands, smiling, reciting our names over and over and over again. We’ve been to many sanctuaries, many fellowship halls, and many Sunday school classrooms. More times than not I stand in awe at each service. Hands raised all around me, choirs joined in song.

God’s people are still out there. Still praying on their knees at the altar each week. Still singing songs of hope and redemption. Still welcoming sinners into the fold. Regardless of how different each place has been, God is still there. If you watch the news you see the desperation of the world. You see the hurting all around. Maybe it’s time we got off the screen and into a pew. Maybe it’s time we got on our knees. Maybe it’s time we held the hands of those beside us and felt the hope that only God can give.

If you’ve been out church for a bit, go back. I promise you need it. It’ll be hard. The schedule may be weird and the people may be a bit overwhelming. Forgive them, they mean well. Just go, find your people and soak them in. Join hands and then roll up your sleeves and get back to the kingdom work.  

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade. This inheritance is kept in heaven for you.

1 Peter 1:3-4

He's the One Parting the Water

Then Moses stretched out his hand over the sea, and all that night the LORD drove the sea back with a strong east wind and turned it into dry land. The waters were divided...

Exodus 14:21

I want to tell you a story. It's about my oldest son, Wyatt, who spits out wisdom from his little seven year old heart faster than I do at thirty-six. This is not one of those precious, precocious stories that I love to share about my boys. This story is so full of good and real and it changed my life a little today.

I hope it will do the same for you.

Three weeks ago Wyatt received his first real Bible. He is quite the pint-sized theologian spouting out intense biblical knowledge like, "The Old Testament just had Numbers. The New Testament has 2 Timothy."

Word, son. Word.

This morning he was sharing his biblical prowess with his little brother, four year old Morgan. 

"Morgy, do you know about Moses parting the Red Sea? Mom, where is the Red Sea?"

"Egypt." (This sounds right. Maybe? Where is the Red Sea? Eh, Egypt sounds good. He's seven. He won't know if I'm wrong. This, folks, is parenting at its finest.)

"Morgy, Moses took his staff and pounded it down and the sea parted right down the middle so the people could walk through."

This is where Morgan, who is surprisingly listening to the story, questions, "Where was Jesus?"

And this is where my Momma heart is so pleased that he asks such a question. I wait for brother's reply, expecting something like: "He's not born yet" or "He's not in this story."

But his answer, friend, makes me want to weep. Not as a proud Mommy, but as a fellow sojourner in this Christian walk. 

My fellow Believer, Wyatt, says, "He's there. Not like really there, but He's the One parting the water."

He's the One parting the water.

Do you hear it? Does it sink into your heart with Holy Spirit power and clarity? 

How many times have I whispered Jesus, I can't see you. Jesus, I can't feel you. Jesus I can't hear you.

And He's there. He's the One parting the water. 

I look ahead, out over the vast sea. Not being able to see a sliver of land on the other side. And I cry out, Oh the enemy is so close behind! He will overtake me. There is no escape. I can't see a way around or through. 

I am hopeless. 

But why don't we see it? Opening up in front of us? The way ahead is as clear as day.

My friend, I want us to understand this truth today.

You can't see Him. But He's there. 

Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy...

I Peter 1:8

Oh, how I promise you. He's there. And your believing in Him, Him who is holy and good will bring you holy and good things.

He turned the sea into dry land, they passed through the waters on foot-- come, 

let us rejoice in him.

Psalm 66:6

Let's listen to our sweet Christian brother, Wyatt (who I just yelled at through gritted teeth for having caused intense amounts of chaos for the entirety of our Sunday afternoon. Perfection will not be obtained on this side of glory, friends...even for master theologian, Wyatt Smith).

When the enemy taunts and the waves seem rough and there is no land in sight, fix your eyes on Him who is unseen, but who is really seen in everything. 

Because He's there-

He's the One parting the water. 

Girl's Got an Arm

Why is throwing stuff fun? I mean, random, but hang with me here. Launching a stone as far as you can into the pond. Corn hole at a BBQ. Expired eggs into the woods. (No? Just my family?) 

For the record I'm a terrible thrower. Very little force, short trajectory. My childhood neighbor Nathan once tried to teach me the art of throwing. Something about the position of the elbow and the timing of the object leaving your hand. He gave me this lesson as we were throwing gravel from my driveway into a nearby field. Oh, and we were in HIGH SCHOOL while doing this, if it makes this story any cooler. 

But no, I can't throw. No pebbles, no corn hole bags, no rotten eggs, no pieces of gravel. Definitely no three pointers. No no-hitters. No coach came begging me to join the softball team. No old men wearing trucker hats, chewing on pieces of straw in the bleachers watching me on the mound saying, "That girl's got an arm."

So you can see my dilemma when the Bible mandates that I should be throwing some things.  

Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. I Peter 5:7

In real life, you-and-me terms this says to throw all your hard stuff to Jesus, so he can take care of it because he loves you. 

See, I've got some hard stuff in my life right now. Stuff I'm sad over, broken over, and straight up angry over. Things I've cried over, stressed over, tried to out-plan over. 

But it doesn't work. Sometimes there is so much wrong in life that we feel like we can't even make a dent into fixing it. 

And we are so right. There is nothing about the deep messes of life that we can fix. 

But there is Jesus, standing there, saying throw it to me. Let me give it a try. 

And so, this is my new practice. When the junk starts to creep up and I want to manage, worry, or cry, I whisper, Jesus fix it and literally imagine myself lugging a heavy bag of wrong and hard and yuck into his arms. I heave it at him with all the mental force I have and he catches it, gracefully.

We have been bought, beloved. Bought from being a slave to worry and sadness by Jesus' blood on the cross. He not only bore the cross but he wants to bear the weight of what holds us down. We are too weak to keep lugging it around.

So a career in pitching was never to be for me. But this junk that weighs me down? This stuff I can throw. And I will hurl it with such force and gusto that someone standing near could feel it whipping past their face. I will cast my cares into the arms of the Problem Solver, the Way Maker and all who witness this act of trust, this act of faith, this true act of worship will say, "Wow, that girl's got an arm."