This is what I tell her when she’s crying in my arms. Her whole body shudders as we curve together into a crescent, under her Tinkerbell blanket. The glow of lamplight slants across her body.

“I don’t understand, Mommy. Why would you want to invite the monster here?” The fear quivers in her voice. She’s afraid of a monster in the closet. Or under the bed.

She is a product of her genes. I am a woman who has been habitually afraid of what she cannot see.

I have trembled at the feet of unnamed fears, manufactured by the mind. And that’s the thing: Make-believe monsters can sometimes inflict the same fear as real ones.

We know that freedom lies on the other side of cracked-open closet doors, or a simple peek under the bed. If we dared look, we would find nothing but dust bunnies and stray socks. But the single first step through the cracked door is always the scariest. And the only way through is bold, crazy Love.

I pull Anna in closer. “Let me tell you a story.”

She turns to face me, and I begin, making things up as I go along:

“Once upon a time, there was a scary green monster who lived in a closet. He had sharp teeth and claws and wrinkly green skin. One night, a brave little girl named Anna called the monster out of the closet. ‘Hello, little monster. I have a present for you.’”

“Huddled inside the dark closet, the monster opened his eyes wide. A present? For him? No one had ever given him a present before. The monster jabbed one bony finger through the crack of the closet door, and Anna hung a polka-dotted dress on that crooked finger, just like a coat rack.”

“‘Here. Try this on.’ That’s what Anna told the monster. She pressed her ear to the closet door, where she could hear all sorts of noises. The monster grunted and tugged. He rattled the hangers. And then the monster spoke real words, in a growly voice. And he even used the word ‘please’: ‘Little girl, could you please help me with this  zipper?’”

Curved against me in the bed, Anna giggles, and I continue the story:

“The brave girl reached in to the closet to find the stuck zipper. She tugged and tugged, zipping the dress all the way up the monster’s wart-covered back. Then, through the crack in the closet door, Anna handed the monster a shiny crown and a set of Mickey Mouse ears. With a timid ‘thank you,’ the monster in the dark closet placed the gifts on his head. Then slowly, the closet door creeeeeaked open. The little girl watched, with her hands clasped over her mouth. And – all of a sudden –out popped a goofy green monster all dressed up! And he was smiling. In that moment, the girl’s biggest Fear looked perfectly, wondrously ridiculous.”

“Just then, the monster sniffled. He said no one had ever been nice to him before, and he wondered if he could have a new name to go with his new dress. He didn’t want to be called Monster anymore. He asked simply to be called Giant.”

Anna and I giggled, and we finished the story together. We listened to that monster with his pleases and thank yous. A single tear slid down his cheek as he expressed his gratitude. We handed him a tissue. We laughed when the monster blew his nose with a loud honk, then asked Anna for a hug, which of course, she refused. And then we told the Giant — politely but firmly — that he was not allowed to live in her closet anymore. He would need to leave at once for a land far, far away, where other giants live. When he walked out the door, we saw a spiky green tail peeking out from underneath his polka-dotted dress.

And together, we laughed long and loud at a Fear that had lost its battle to Love.

“There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out all fear.”  ~ 1 John 4:18

(Anna’s monster Giant drawing …)

Three Steps to Evicting Your Fear Monsters

Redraw: Our minds can draw dreadfully scary monsters. We manufacture fear in the form of rejection, loss of approval, being “found out,” or failure. Redrawing is scary, because it requires actively touching our fear. How does a person dare put her hand to something that she doesn’t want to even look at? With God’s help, we can redraw our fears — or erase them altogether. But first we need to muster up the courage to touch the thing we fear.  We need God’s Spirit to empower us.

Rename: What is your fear? Can you name it? Can you call it out from underneath the bed? Then, can you rename it? If your fear is a product of your insecurity or self-condemnation, take pity on your fear and rename it so it no longer has control over you. Turn the camera angle, or reframe the picture. Renaming our fears, and reclaiming our courage, takes away the power of unseen monsters.

Relocate: We have the authority, by God’s power in us, to serve eviction notices to our fears. But how? Through Christ’s love, of course. Let love drive it out, … this perfect love that casts out fear. Ask God to fling your fear to a land far, far away.

We’ve sung it a thousand times or more in the old hymn, Amazing Grace. Repeat the words again … “… and grace, my fears relieved.” Let God’s grace relieve your fear,  then step over to the other side.

More resources on battling fear:

This song …

This quote …

This verse …

This book …

Some call them coincidences. We call them God-incidences. And those goosebumps you get sometimes when you know the Holy Spirit is at work? Yep. They’re God-Bumps. The story I shared today is my contribution, because my daughter no longer has any scary goosebumps.

My mom brought me a new pair of shoes this weekend, a strappy fun pair of heels with a tall wedge platform.

I laughed out loud at the irony. I held up the shoe and said, “Mom, when I told you about ‘platform,’ you must have misunderstood.”

Our family has learned a new word this past year — this thing called platform — and it has nothing to do with cute shoes. But it really is about what we stand for — and what we stand on.

And we’re all standing on something. 

In the publishing world, platform holds great importance. It’s a word used to describe a writer’s audience and her ability to build interest in a message. As I  look for a publishing home for my nonfiction book, my platform has become increasingly important. Publishers reviewing proposals want to make sure writers have an audience for their words.

I get this: Publishing houses are real businesses taking financial risks on writers.

They understandably want to know: What am I standing on?

All the world is filled with platforms. And we’re stacking them higher, just to be seen. In a noisy world, we want to be heard.

We want to know that our voices, stories and accomplishments matter.

A lawyer stacks her platform high on a reputation for winning cases.

A teacher earns accolades from parents and students, building a platform of credibility.

A blogger widens her audience with “followers and fans.”

We measure influence by the numbers: people in the pews, Facebook friends, money in the offering plate, Twitter followers, checkbook balances and end-of-the-month sales reports. The higher the number, the bigger the reward: a raise, a pat on the back, or a promotion to the glass office.

I remember it now. I remember sitting in the fold-down seat of a university auditorium. I had my bangs teased high. It was freshman orientation at Iowa State. The woman up front had us on the edges of our seats when she asked us this question: “What do you want to be famous for?”

We had been given permission to be significant. Starry eyes twinkled. We wanted to be famous for something, anything.

The world loves significance, and it even has a number to measure your Klout. If we aren’t careful, we end up shining spotlights on the self, instead of the Savior… Even in the church.

Decades ago, A.W. Tozer wrote it down: “Promoting self under the guise of promoting Christ is currently so common as to excite little notice.”

I gulp when I re-read those words. I have to ask myself these questions: Have I ever trusted Google Analytics more than God?  Have I bowed to the stat counters, instead of to the Savior?

John the Baptist had something to say about that: “He (Jesus) must become greater, and I must become less.” I have those words typed out, a daily reminder of this truth.

But is it ever OK to climb higher, and if so, to what end?

In a culture that values excellence, is it ever advisable for a Christian to climb higher?

Just now, I remember Zacchaeus. He climbed. But why? Why did he aim to go higher? Why did he crawl up the branches of a sycamore tree, high above the crowds? I turn to Luke 19:4 to re-read ancient words. The nursery-school song rings afresh in my ears.

“So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore-fig tree to see him, since Jesus was coming that way.”

Zacchaeus climbed, not to be seen, but to see. A small man’s platform was one tree, scaled — the only way to see Jesus. Centuries later, Zacchaeus’ own climb becomes a vehicle for us to see the only One worth exalting — a Savior who went to one tree on Calvary.

I think of these two tree “platforms”:

One tree, scaled. (That of Zacchaeus.)
One tree, nailed.  (That, of Christ.)

So, this question: What if our only climbing led to two greater purposes: to see Jesus coming, nearer; to focus on the Cross of Christ, clearer.

And what if we used every platform to raise the Savior higher? What if — in the event that our “numbers” did in fact rise — we used our platforms only and always as a way to see God and to point to Him? 

What if the only fame became the Lord’s? What would the world look like then?

“Be exalted, O God, above the heavens; let your glory be over all the earth.” — Psalm 57:11

***

What if we realized, then, that the only way to really meet with Jesus, was to climb back down again.

I run my finger along Zacchaeus’ story in my Bible.

“When Jesus reached the spot, he looked up and said to him, ‘Zacchaeus, come down immediately. I must stay at your house today.’”

Jesus calls us to come down, and to bend lower to humble places where we always find him. Christ choose to dine with sinners. He invites me to a table where I have nothing to bring but this: my own wretchedness.

This singular truth humbles me daily.

In these places, we gather around tables and altars, not spotlighted stages. We share stories of grace, not successes. We seek the Father, not the fan-base.

In the end, the only work that really matters is that which glorifies the Father. Whether we are plumbers, or postal workers, or nurses or nannies, we are given these miraculous moments in which to exalt the name of Christ.  We all have platforms. How will we use them?  

If we do climb up, may we see and exalt only Him. May we never climb so high  that we can no longer hear the command of Christ: “Come down immediately.”

I climb down, take off the platform shoes, and stand bare-footed on Holy Ground, before a God who measures my worth not through my accomplishments, but through the lens of a Son’s humbling sacrifice.

I don’t think I can stand on any platform at all. I can only bow.

Joining Heather of the EO.

{In honor of mothers everywhere…}

“Oh the places you’ll go,” Dr. Seuss once wrote.

And whether you go right or left, or straight ahead, the Lord’s steady voice will  lead you Home.

{In honor of graduates everywhere…}

a woman with a scattered, muddled prayer life.

I do hereby confess this to you, just like I did on my Facebook page earlier this week.

It’s hard to read that itty-bitty print up there, so I’ll repost my confession right here :

“First, a confession. My prayer life has become disorganized and scattered. I used to keep a great prayer journal, but I am not keeping up with it at all. I have been looking for ways to stay more organized in my prayer life. … I am not trying to be legalistic here, but I need some sense of order to my scattered prayer life.”

Because, the truth is this. I often make prayer a last resort.

I promise to pray, but forget about my promises until I see you in Aisle Nine of the grocery store, or near the altar.

And sometimes, I get so caught up in my own agenda, I wait until my head hits the pillow for my “quiet time” with the Lord.

 

I’m not a complete prayer failure. I pray often throughout the day, while I’m driving or pulling weeds or washing dishes or sending a card to an ailing friend. If  you and I are talking on the phone, and you need prayer, I stop right there and pray for you with the telephone cradled to my ear.

But my prayer life felt … lacking. Like I was missing out on something really holy because I was so disorganized.

I didn’t want to get legalistic and rote. But I knew this: I needed to reconnect with God in a more intentional, orderly way.

So, I asked friends.

And you helped.

You sent emails and Facebook messages. You responded in the comment box. You offered links and tips, and stopped at my front door to tell me what works for you.

You also let me know that I’m not alone. This is a common struggle, and even my own pastor – bless his heart — fessed up to having trouble.

I’ve adopted some of your ideas, and have incorporated some of my own. As promised, I put together a list of resources and ideas. And, friends, please share your ideas in the comment box so we can be mutually encouraged.

A PRAYER CHART

I have adopted a seven-day prayer chart, posted on the bulletin board in my office. Each day has an emphasis: Mission Monday for our friends around the world; Together Tuesday for our friends and community; Work Wednesday for our daily work; Thirsty Thursday for our spiritual growth; Family Friday for our immediate and extended family, and a Weekend of Wonder and Worship dedicated to praise and thanksgiving.

PRAYER. THERE’S AN APP FOR THAT!

One friend suggested this app for my iPhone, which I downloaded for $1.99. I was a bit skeptical at first, worried that it was just one more reason to hold that iPhone in my hand. But friends, this has been such a wonderful way to organize and schedule prayer requests. Super easy.

A PRAYER “PARTI”

Grab your feather boas and dancing shoes, then check out this post on Monica’s blog to find our more about a PARTI approach to prayer. (Wise words, from a woman who has inspired me for years.)

LISTENING

Lyla keeps index cards for prayer needs, but she also is learning that prayer is as much listening as talking — if not more. You’ll want to read this. 

A VIRTUAL PRAYER TOOL

My friend, Karin, suggested a wonderful online prayer tool called Echo Prayer. With this tool, you can create prayer lists, then set times throughout the week for reminders via email.

*****

I am so grateful for your help over on the Facebook page, and I look forward to your ideas here in the comment box.

And …  I’m thankful for a God who loves me — scattered, disorganized, unfocused me. His amazing grace still amazes me. 

But those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.

~ Isaiah 40:31

She had my camera in her hands, a big Nikon that covered her whole face like a mask. A cool spring breeze waltzed in her hair, and she knelt down to photograph single blades of grass.

And peeling paint.

And an old drill.

And a weed.

I stayed back, witnessing the way a child saw with her soul. I watched how she tilted the camera, knelt lower and reframed messes into magnificence. It stirred something new in me, like a hidden room in my heart had been unsealed.

The next best thing to capturing beauty yourself is this: Watching someone you love discover it for herself. And then again, maybe it’s not the next best thing. It might be The thing.

She held the silver button halfway down to focus on a rusty hinge then — click — beauty snagged.

She asked me for a turn with the Nikon earlier that day, while I stood on a wooden chair to get a photo of a bird perched outside the kitchen window. She asked if she could borrow the camera after church.

So after Sunday dinner, we went for a walk — one girl’s quest to uncover our photogenic world, and maybe a bit of herself.

She has watched me for years, sprawled out on grass, standing on countertops, dlimming lights, adjusting settings on a fancy camera that is too smart for its 40-year-old owner.

Years ago, someone teased me that if I’m always looking through the camera, I’ll miss the bigger picture. I’ll only see what’s happening through the lens, while most of the world passes by. I just smiled, and kept on snapping. For I’ve learned this:  I have only seen anything when I’ve stood still long enough to really see any-thing.

Here on a neighbor’s lawn, my daughter spread out on the grass to take a picture of a dandelion. She said she liked “the textures.” She found a muddy wheel, an old stump, a bucket of nuts and bolts, and a reflection of herself in an old mirror, leaning against a shed.

She pointed at an old door knob, an epiphany: “See Mom? Look at this. People don’t pay attention to stuff like this. And think how important a doorknob is, Mom. You could never open a door without one.”

She snapped her 152nd frame — of an old doorknob on a May afternoon, right here on a farm in Iowa.

She let the camera fall to her chest, and pointed again: “Look at how pretty that is, Mom.  Do you see that?”

And sure, I looked. Not at the door, but at the adamant girl, stubborn after beauty. And yes, I saw how beautiful that was, not the doorknob, but the child walking through a doorway, straight into a new way of seeing.

All photos by Lydia Lee. Used with permission. She hopes to enter some of these as 4-H projects in the county fair in July.

Because of the sacrifice of the Messiah, his blood poured out on the altar of the Cross, we’re a free people -— free of penalties and punishments chalked up by all our misdeeds. And not just barely free, either. Abundantly free!
~ Ephesians 1:7

I started this blog years ago, as a way to share faith and life in community. With you.

For me, seeing God’s faithfulness has not come natural. My flesh is prone to deny His goodness. But when I intentionally slow down and record His works, I cannot help but see His faithfulness. Everywhere — right where I am, in the uncommonly common things of life.

Then, I began to do the same with my camera, finding God-sightings while looking at the world through my lens. Most weekends, I have shared those photos with you here at Getting Down With Jesus, and often times, on my Facebook page.

Below, you will find The {through the lens} Collection — a series of photos inspired by God’s Word. You’ll find some whimsy, some art, some beautiful people. But mostly, I pray you find Him.

- Jennifer

BE THESE

HOW TO MEASURE YOUR WORTH

BE THIS

AWAKE MY SOUL

“Don’t become like the people of this world.
Instead, change the way you think.
Then you will always be able to determine
what God really wants—
what is good, pleasing, and perfect.”

    ~ Romans 12:2

HEART TRANSPLANT

“I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.”

~ Ezekiel 36:26

A new heart beats like this:
Jesus … Jesus … Jesus.  

SOUND CHECK

Good people, cheer God! Right-living people sound best
when praising.
Use guitars to reinforce your Hallelujahs! 

– Psalm 33:1-2 (MSG)

HERD MENTALITY

BEST SEAT IN THE HOUSE

Isn’t that amazing? We praise, and then the Lord Almighty picks His seat right in the middle of it. I don’t know about you, but that makes me want to praise long and loud today.

“But thou art holy, O thou that inhabitest the praises of Israel.”
– Psalm 22:3

HE IS RISEN

“God’s my strength,
he’s also my song.
And now he’s my salvation.”
From Psalm 118 (The Message)

God is all that. And so much more.

Christ is Risen!

GOOD FRIDAY

SPIKE IN HAND

HIGH ABOVE

May you soar
high on His immeasurable love
this weekend.

Orphan girls in Haiti

Two good buddies

Orphan boys

FATHER TO THE FATHERLESS

YOU’VE GOT MAIL.

“Only God can write such a letter. … It’s written

with Spirit on spirit, his life on our lives!”

(From 2 Corinthians 3:4-6, The Message)