Purchase Growing in Godliness

Endorsements:

“In a world where teens are too often viewed as incapable of earnest discipleship practices, Lindsey Carlson’s book communicates a refreshing and much-needed message: maturity starts now. Growing in Godliness offers basic concepts, accessible tools, and practical steps for teens to understand themselves as devoted followers of Christ. And it offers parents a rare gift as well: the golden opportunity of faith-infused dialogue with their young-adult child.”
Jen Wilkin, Director of Classes and Curriculum, The Village Church; author, Women of the Word; None Like Him; and In His Image

“So much of the person we turn out to be hinges on decisions made in our teenage years. Those years can be filled with wonder, but also with fears and dangers. In this book, Lindsey Carlson gives a practical guide for how young women can use their teenage years to grow in Christ. This advice could be life-changing for you, or for someone you love.”
Russell D. Moore, President, The Ethics & Religious Liberty Commission of the Southern Baptist Convention

“Growing in Godliness is hands down my favorite book for teen girls. Its fresh writing, theological grit, accessible advice, grace-driven counsel, and practical application of the means of grace make me want to put it in the hands of all of the girls I know. No Pollyanna fluff or theological bricks here. I started to read this in the hospital, watching my own teenage girl recover from major surgery, and the sections that I read filled me with hope in the dark hours of my daughter’s pain.”
Rosaria Butterfield, Former Professor of English, Syracuse University; author, The Gospel Comes with a House Key

“As children grow into teenagers, there is also a growing sense of urgency in their parents. There’s so much to say, so much to teach, and still so much to learn. It’s hard to know where to start. Parents can trust that Growing in Godliness will give their teen girls a great place to start in their discipleship. This practical resource is grounded in the gospel and candidly conversational to reach teen girls where they are.”
Gloria Furman, author, Missional Motherhood and Treasuring Christ When Your Hands Are Full

“It’s not easy to be a teen girl. The world tells you to follow your heart, your peers encourage you to conform to their image, and even your own emotions threaten to overwhelm you. Which of us didn’t long for a trustworthy friend to guide us through those messy middle-school years? Thankfully Lindsey Carlson is that friend—warm, wise, funny, and direct—pointing teens to the only source of certainty and hope in a confusing world. Again and again, she brings girls back to God and his word, encouraging teens to shake off the worldliness that stunts their spiritual growth and to reach instead for Christ alone. As a pastor’s wife and mother, I couldn’t be more pleased to have this book on my shelf. Give it to the teens in your church or, better yet, gather a group and read it together. Growing in Godliness is an invaluable resource for young teen girls and the adults who care about their souls.”
Megan Hill, author, Praying Together and Contentment; Editor, The Gospel Coalition

“While I have no experience in being a teenage girl, I’ve got a fair bit of experience in raising them. And from the perspective of a father, I can say this book represents exactly the kind of knowledge and wisdom that will serve them well for the few years they are teenagers and for the lifetime beyond.”
Tim Challies, blogger, Challies.com

“Growing in Godliness is one of the best resources I’ve read on the topic of discipleship in the teen years. Lindsey Carlson is relatable, engaging, understanding, wise, and laugh-out-loud funny as she helps teen girls grasp their need for God and learn how to grow in faith. I plan to read this book with my daughter and will be recommending it for all her friends!”
Melissa B. Kruger, Director of Women’s Content, The Gospel Coalition; author, In All Things: A Nine-Week Devotional Bible Study on Unshakeable Joy

“As a fellow victim of the glamour shots trend of the 1990s, I can relate to Lindsey Carlson’s described desire for quick fixes and microwaved maturity. But she has given teenage girls a gift in these pages—not only a description of what it means to be spiritually mature but also a relatable guide for pursuing that growth. I’m thankful my own daughter will have these words to encourage her as she grows in grace.”
Catherine Parks, author, Real and Empowered: How God Shaped 11 Women’s Lives (and Can Shape Yours Too)

“This book was a heart-changing read. It altered my perspective on many things. The author had lots of stories, which made reading it fun. Now I can’t wait to grow in godliness!”
Emily H., age 11

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Some of you have just come across my writing for the first time, some are long-time friends or readers from my first blog Worship Rejoices, others are writing friends I’ve labored beside in this tricky writing world, and a few are new Baltimore friends who are likely thinking “She’s a writer?” Whichever camp you fall in, allow me a quick explanation for those of you who only know pieces of my story.

I grew up in Texas, attending church, assuming I was a Christian. I was a typical first-born rule follower. I stayed out of major trouble and tried to impress adults with my behavior. But I didn’t love Jesus or understand the essential, saving role he played in my life. I didn’t have a desire to live a holy life in order to please him. As a teenager, I began considering my involvement in the church. I wasn’t going on Sundays in order to learn more about God or because I loved the people I found there – I went simply out of obligation. Thankfully, this bothered me and pushed me to ask hard questions that would result in genuine, saving faith found by grace alone, through faith alone, in Jesus alone.

As a teen, I was desperate to understand God and grow in godliness, but I didn’t know where to begin. (Foolishly, I didn’t think to begin in the Bible.) Instead, I have a vivid memory of sitting on the floor of our local Christian bookstore, scouring books for any words of wisdom. Over the course of the next few years, God opened my eyes to the beauty of the gospel through the regular preaching of the word, the fellowship of the church, and through a series of discipleship relationships. But reading has always remained a fruitful lifeline aiding my growth in godliness – hence my desire to give back through the ministry of writing.

In May of 2017, I decided to write my daughter a book for her thirteenth birthday. I wanted to say all the things I feel like I should say every day, but that the noise of the day often seems to crowd out. I wanted her to know the things I wished I’d known as a young woman learning to follow Christ. The result of my efforts, was Growing in Godliness.

Growing in Godliness: The Teen Girl’s Guide to Maturing in Christ is the book I was looking for twenty years ago. I’m praying it will gently and lovingly (& spunkily) come alongside the curious teen girl who’s learning how to follow Jesus and give her the practical theology she needs to understand God, joyfully serve him, and grow in her faith. Honestly, I never thought I’d write a book to teenagers. But in retrospect, it makes perfect sense. I found Jesus while looking for him in books as a teenager. It’s clear mercy that God would call me to use my testimony to draw others closer to himself. I pray it will strengthen and serve the next generation of Christian sisters!

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I typically enjoy the process of planning. I love reflecting on the past year’s successes and failures. It’s exciting to think of new patterns to help me grow in godliness or ones that just help life go more smoothly. Sometimes, a fresh chance at fine-tuning my life fills me with hope.

I began with goals that aren’t necessarily new or creative: time limits for social media intake, read the Bible before touching the phone, consistent journaling. As the self-assessment continued, the list of good intentions increased. Go to the gym. Eat more vegetables. On and on it expanded into how I engage with my children, how frequently we have family worship, the amount of time I spend writing, reading, and watching Netflix. Etc., etc., etc. until there were more items on my list than there were Cheerios in my couch cushions. 

Two hours of planning later, I’d spastically made plans to reform basically everything in my life. This would be the year I’d wake-up five hours earlier each morning, fold my clothes like Marie Kondo, make meals from only locally-sourced whole foods or chickens named Kevin, rope the whole family into becoming triathletes, keep the inside of my mom-car clean, date my husband (and each kid individually), learn Greek and Hebrew, and lead all the neighborhood kids through an expositional sermon series on the Old Testament prophets while feeding them delicious gluten-free, sugar-free, dairy-free homemade treats I baked in my totally clean oven. I jest. But, my list might as well have been this ridiculously unattainable. 

The Inevitable Fall from Resolution Glory

This year the inevitable fall from resolution glory happened sooner than I’d expected. I can’t pinpoint the exact moment I’d wandered away from realistic, attainable goal setting, but it sure happened somewhere. I’d followed the toxic allure of organization and reform right into the crazy place. In this dangerous La-La-Land, the “Total Transformation of Lindsey” is 100% possible if I’d only try harder. I have apparently not been sanctified to the point of sidestepping this re-occurring January mirage before I fall headlong into its sandy depths because here it was, 2019, and I was still gulping fistfuls of sand and promising I’d try harder.

Condemnation. Despair. Hopelessness. The nagging feeling that I’d disappointed God. All these were mine. But should they have been? Had God really been holding me to the same irrational standards I’d come up with while shot-gunning caffeine and dreaming of Lindsey 2019.0 in all her glory? Maybe my fall felt so far because I’d aimed higher than God had asked of me. 

Replacing My Resolve

What’s the point of my resolutions anyway? As a Christian my resolutions should be all about honoring God. But if I’m honest, I tend to confuse “honoring God” with good-‘ol self-betterment. If I do these things better then I feel better about myself and the bonus is that God receives glory in the process. When my plans and resolutions succeed based on my own scrappy intentionality, my ego is inflated, and I am exalted. When my desires and strivings flop, I come face-to-face with my own failure. It’s only then that I’m likely to cry out for God. In my lack and emptiness, I’m finally desperate enough to depend on God’s power at work within me. But isn’t this place of dependence on His mercy where I should begin? Consider the words from Psalm 44:2-4:

“you with your own hand drove out the nations,  but them you planted;

you afflicted the peoples, but them you set free;

for not by their own sword did they win the land,

nor did their own arm save them,

but your right hand and your arm,

and the light of your face,

for you delighted in them.” 

Broken resolutions remind me that even though I fail to free myself from the sin that entangles – God sets free and God saves. And those people that he saves? He doesn’t hate them. He delights in them. While I may beat myself over bad habits and broken attempts, because of Christ, God does not despise me. He loves me. And because God loves me, I can get up and try again, knowing that God’s kindness is there waiting for me. 

If you have fallen from resolution glory, perhaps it’s time to replace your long list of resolutions with a kinder, gentler, redemptive resolve. Instead of self-betterment, resolve to love God and pursue holiness. Resolve to revel in the love and acceptance of Christ in all your successes and failures. Resolve to marvel over the power of God at work on your behalf. Resolve to rejoice because God delights in you even when your resolutions fall flat. Even when you don’t make it to the gym, your couch is filled with Cheerios, and your t-shirt drawers need organizing – Christ saves you & God loves you.

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I connected with friends who’d used their homes as staging grounds for disaster relief. Friends who’d delivered hundreds of meals to teams cleaning up flooded homes. Friends who’d hosted families whose homes were destroyed. I smelled the rotting mildew by the curbs piled high with worldly possessions waiting to be taken to the dump. The amount of physical loss is overwhelming.

In the face of such destruction and devastation, #HoustonStrong has become the unofficial mantra of the people as they rebuild. And while it certainly sums up the spirit that’s alive and well, and has been observable on a national level through the weeks of rallying, rescuing, cleaning, and caring since Harvey hit – it isn’t the whole story. Amidst the camaraderie and teamwork, questions still hang in the humid air. How will Houston rebuild? How long will ‘normal’ take? How can we keep going at this pace? People are emotionally exhausted and physically drained.#Weak just isn’t as fun to hashtag.

Call It Anything But Weakness

We aren’t a people who excel at weakness. We cover it up with all kinds of other, more palatable, words like tired, sick, stretched-thin, overly busy, or stressed. I think I’ve said them all over the past two years of moving cross-country, having a fifth baby, and planting a church. Even though I’ve felt like I was running a marathon under water – I wrestled to view my situation as weakness. I’d rather press past my humanity in hopes of finding my own God-like strength.

We lament our circumstances as if they are wholly responsible for our feelings of weakness. I privately lamented“If only I didn’t feel so alone in this new move. If only I wasn’t pregnant and sick all the time. If only we had more help planting this church. If only I wasn’t such a people-pleaser. If only I wasn’t so easily exhausted.” My post-Harvey friends voice similar laments. If only things would just get back to normal. If only I could get back into my house. If only we weren’t having to worry about money.” Don’t we really mean if only I weren’t so weak?

When circumstances don’t subside as fast as we’d like them to, we are quick to gloss past weakness or make light of it. Weakness is never fashionable to confess. It’s never convenient. When is the right time to cry or express your need for help? There’s always work to be done or people to take care of. There’s always someone worse off than you. There is always gratitude to be cultivated in favor of complaining. And so not only do we fail to excel at weakness, we shy away from even admitting it.

But weakness isn’t shameful. And it isn’t the opposite of strength. Weakness is merely the precursor to strength.

Take the Place of Helplessness

In God’s kindness, he allows situations in our life to remind us we are not super-human. The gift of weakness is actually an invitation to experience God’s strength, which is far greater than any strength we could muster up ourselves. So let’s begin by owning our weakness. Theologian A.W. Pink writes:

“Before He furnishes the abundant supply [of strength], we must first be made conscious of our emptiness. Before he gives strength, we must be made to feel our weakness. Slow, painfully slow, are we to learn this lesson; and slower still to own our nothingness and take the place of helplessness before the Mighty One.”

Before God gave Joshua the command to “be strong and courageous,” Joshua’s circumstances were most likely wrought with his own list of extenuating circumstances: If only Moses hadn’t died. If only I’d had more time to mourn. If only I’d had more training. If only the walls around Jericho weren’t so large and impenetrable. And yet God’s repetitive instruction to Joshua was “be strong and courageous.” Not because Joshua was awesome, but because of an existential source of awesomeness. Instead of giving Joshua a pep talk or pumping him full of “You got this” propaganda, God promised Joshua His presence. “The Lord your God is with you” and that is enough.

For the Christian, the testimony of our faith is not in our strength or resolve, but in our helplessness. We aren’t expected to pull ourselves up by our bootstraps. We are beset with weakness just like Jesus, and bound by the frailty of our human flesh. And by design, weakness serves to point us to the unique strength of Christ Jesus on our behalf: “For he was crucified in weakness, but lives by the power of God. For we also are weak in him, but… live with him by the power of God (2 Cor. 13:4).”

Boast In This

While all of Houston is brandishing their t-shirts and drink tumblers with #HoustonStrong, I’m taking a moment to brandish the lesson my heart has been learning both over the last two years of life and on my trip last weekend. It’s a lesson I’m learning through tears and pain and it doesn’t look very pretty. Whether you’re in Houston or wrestling with weakness anywhere else, I hope you’ll learn from scripture too.

Take a breath. You don’t have to pretend to be strong when you’re not. You don’t have to deny your feelings of weakness. Instead, pull up a chair and get comfortable boasting in weakness with the Apostle Paul (2 Corinthians 11:30). Because it’s here you’ll find the sufficiency of God’s grace  – through His presence and His power made perfect in your weakness.

When we are weak, then we are strong (2 Cor. 12:9-10). Hashtag your weakness and join me in boasting. #WeakMadeStrong

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While reading the gospels, I’ve always been struck by the sheer number of miracles Jesus performs and how many of the onlookers seem surprised by Jesus’ ability to perform them and still question His Lordship. I can relate, I often overlook the miracles Jesus continues to perform in hearts today. But like John, I want to tell the stories of Jesus at work in the lives of his people. It’s these stories that help us see that the living Christ is risen and reigning in the world today.

My Fig Tree Friend

I met my Fig Tree Friend when one of my boys sat next to her boy on the bus. They became fast friends and we began to spend time together. I quickly learned that their family had recently lost their four-year-old daughter to Bacterial Meningitis. When we met, they were devastated, grieving, and angry with God. Over the next year, they began to regularly attend our home Bible studies. One day I asked the mom to read through the Gospel of John with me. When we got to John 1, Nathanael says to Jesus “How do you know me?” and Jesus replies “when you were under the fig tree, I saw you.”

That day I asked my friend if she knew that God saw her in her pain over the past year and during the death of her daughter. I told her our family prayed God would give us people to love and serve and in God’s kindness, he had seen her family and sent us to love and serve her. I told her that I felt this was a “Fig Tree Moment” in her life and called her to follow Christ. A few weeks later, I asked her what she was waiting on and whether or not she was ready to proclaim Jesus as Lord. To my delight, she said “Nothing! I’m ready. What do I need to do?”

My friend’s conversion to faith is nothing short of miraculous. God is still opening blind eyes and reconciling people to Himself today.

Another Fig Tree Friend

When one of the women in our church (a certified American Sign Language Interpreter) moved to Baltimore, she asked the Lord to connect her with the deaf community here. Did you know the deaf community is one of the least reached people groups in the U.S.?! One of the first weeks in her new home she discovered a deaf couple living just a few doors down. The couple accepted her invitation to come to our home group Bible study and our friend has been able to interpret Kyle’s teaching.

While my sign language is limited to the alphabet I learned in sixth grade and the baby signs I picked up for my children, it has been a joy to connect despite the language barrier. The woman, who was very pregnant when she began attending, was very quick to ask me pregnancy related questions and even asked me to be with her for labor and delivery!

One very cold December day, Kyle and I were preparing for our big outreach Christmas caroling event. After all the preparation and anticipation, an ice storm hit. We would have to cancel. We were so disappointed. But in God’s perfect sovereignty, about an hour before the event would have begun, I received the call that my pregnant friend was en route to the hospital via ambulance and I would need to hurry to meet her. Thankfully, my schedule had been freed, I made it in time, and two hours later I was able to watch her sweet baby take her first breath and I got to cut the cord!

I am praying that through friendship, small acts of love, and opportunities to serve, God will miraculously open the spiritual ears of this little family. I also look forward to the opportunity to actually speak the Gospel story into this sweet (hearing!) baby’s life!

God is doing amazing things here, friends. And because Kyle and I said “Yes!” to following God’s call to Baltimore, we are getting to witness them firsthand. Sharing the gospel stories with these friends has been one of the greatest delights of my life. The act of willingly entering in has granted us the opportunity to witness modern day miracles all around us.

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I loved the experience. The steady storm of silent flakes amid the tall bare trees was breathtaking and the the blanket of snow (or several blankets and comforters) it left behind was beautiful. From indoors, warm, cozy, and under a heated blanket, I loved watching the kids play and sled in the mountains of snow.

After a week though, it got old. It’s hard to navigate cars around giant dirty piles of melting snow. You run out of groceries. You run out of patience with cooped up kids who’ve been out of school too long. Even sending those cute kids out to play in the snow means washing and drying countless extra loads of wet snow clothes. The wonder and excitement all run their course.

A blizzard-like move

I feel like that’s kind of the season I’m in of this cross-country move. While there are plenty of wonderful things to enjoy about moving and newness, the excitement runs its course and gives way to harder realities of figuring out life here. Just like everyone warned us winter would come (and it did), the friends we turned to for seasoned wisdom warned us the hard and lonely days would come too. And for me, they have. As we wait for our ministry to take form and launch, I find myself snowed in behind a wall of loss and loneliness.

I experienced great loss in moving away from a solid community of believers who knew me and loved me. I miss fellowship with the young believers I left behind. My children miss their life-long playmates. I miss the familiar culture and way of life that I’d never branded as “Southern.” Here, almost everything feels different – the grocery stores, the roads, the small-talk, the down-time, the mom-life – the unfamiliarity is disorienting and often lonely.

Even the good changes are hard. A month after moving here my husband and I learned we’d been given the gift of a new life. We’d moved to Baltimore to birth a church and now I’d be birthing a real baby too. And this baby, makes a family of SEVEN. Heavens. All of my own insecurities and weakness really hit the fan. “Me? Lord, I’m not equipped!” I felt like crying in response. With another baby comes another level of change and challenge and the gift of recognizing once more my need for Jesus.

So here I am – new, lonely, pregnant, and facing all the same weakness and spiritual challenges that I had in Houston, here in Baltimore. I understand from the other side of the fence why just like my friends gasped over the thought of snowy winters, they gasped over the hurdle of a cross-country move. When the glamor of costly obedience wears off, what’s left isn’t as picturesque.

Why acknowledge the blizzard?

There is an immaturity in my heart that wants to hide my grief for fear of marring my witness. Elisabeth Elliot wrote “Don’t dig up in doubt what you planted in faith.” I would rather write nothing than cast the shades of sadness I feel in darkness on a decision my husband and I made in the light. But as much as I’d hate to paint a faithless picture, I’d also hate to paint costly obedience as only cheerful and rosy.

So how does one write of trials and loss without whining? How does one share from a place of grief and brokenness while fully expressing the spectrum of gratitude and joy that co-exist in trial? How could I paint the highlights of the harvest without the contours of the grim shadows of grief? I’ll admit, I don’t know the answer.

I think I have to begin with honesty. I have to be brave in confession – both to the Lord and to those around me. I have to let go of the fear of what people may think of me or how my struggle will reflect on my spiritual maturity. I have to care less about whether or not I’m “handling” things well. I have to allow God to work not only in in celebration and joy, but also in pain and heartache. I have to abide in Christ as I’m a “work in progress” instead of waiting on my life to be tied up in a pretty and presentable, bloggable package.

As I write from the blizzard of life, surrounded by snow,  hemmed in by melting mounds of mysterious ice, these words from missionary Amy Carmichael bring me hope and encouragement:

“Nothing will seem too much to have done or suffered, when, in the end, we see Him and the marks of His wounds; nothing will ever seem enough. Even the weariness of deferred hope will be forgotten, in the joy that is not of earth.”

Friends, when we can’t dig ourselves out of icy blizzards, we can warm our hearts with this truth – we serve a worthy King who knows us and loves us and calls us His own. Whether in winter or spring, sorrow or celebration, let us strive to make His name known and bring Him glory. Weeping only lasts for the night, but joy comes in the morning. One day soon He will return and welcome us into an eternal spring filled with joy that is not of this earth. Until then, will you persevere in hope with me?

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The day the moving truck showed up, we didn’t know where the contents of our home were headed. We assured the movers it was Baltimore but the housing we’d lined up was facing some pretty daunting complications. While the movers loaded the truck I tided the house and my husband went to run an errand. While he was out our car was rear-ended. Thankfully, no one was hurt and the vehicle wasn’t damaged enough to keep us from jumping on the road, but these steady trickle of small inconveniences only taxed our already thin emotions.

By the time the truck pulled away with most of our worldly possessions, I laughed like the Proverbs 31 woman at the future. Unlike this Godly role-model, my laughter wasn’t fearless but an effort to keep myself from crying over all the unknowns. I needed security and comfort and they seemed altogether unreachable.

We sold our house in Texas despite the dismal prospect of no home in Baltimore. We knew God had some big walls to knock down Joshua-style and we trusted our part was simply to walk around the wall and wait in faith. We laughed some more, signed the papers and handed over the keys, and then went to grab lunch. Five minutes after becoming homeless on paper, we got the call that our housing in Baltimore had been secured. I wept and laughed in the restaurant as I thanked the Lord for a glimpse of the security I’d pleaded for and His obviously continual faithfulness.

This is the God we serve.

Our journey into the unknown has been bumpy but sweet. The Lord must have gallons of my tears gathered by now. The goodbyes were heart-wrenching, the longing for familiarity agonizing, and the constant sea of newness is frequently overwhelming. But the dustiness of our trials on our road-weary feet has served God’s good purpose. It has drawn us to Him time and time again. We’ve asked Him for help, for provision, and for comfort. And each time, He has met us ready and willing.

In five months the Lord has called us, equipped us, raised us up, and sent us out. He has provided a home for us. He’s provided new friends who’ve watched our kids, brought us meals, invited us to hang out, and even to join a fellowship group. The neighborhood we prayed for is full of neighbor kids who are excited and ready to play! Our children’s school has been an answer to prayer and they’re already loving it! All this in two weeks. The Lord’s kindness has been with us in each of tiniest of details – because HE LOVES US.

Last night as I prayed, I thanked the Lord with the words of the Psalmist:

“The LORD is my chosen portion and my cup; you hold my lot. The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed I have a beautiful inheritance. I bless the LORD who gives me counsel; in the night also my heart instructs me. I have set the LORD always before me; because he is at my right hand, I shall not be shaken. Therefore my heart is glad, and my whole being rejoices; my flesh also dwells secure.” Psalm 16: 5-9

Why does he comfort us?

In this season of loss and newness, I am most thankful for the security and comfort I have found in Christ. I am learning that even these feelings of security and comfort serve a much grander purpose in life than happiness.

In Second Corinthians 1:3, Paul writes:

“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For as we share abundantly in Christ’s sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too.”

Our family moved to Baltimore to start a church – to add people to God’s Church really – the one He is building. We long to share the gospel and call the dying to a saving faith in Christ Jesus. We want everyone we meet to know and worship the One True God. The dust on our feet teaches us to go to the one who makes our feet clean and beautiful for the Lord’s service. The firm footing and comfort we have found here are making our feet strong and secure so we might be the beautiful feet (Romans 10:15) of those who preach the good news! We share in (and rejoice in!) sufferings and comfort so we might turn and give the ultimate comfort of salvation to those who are still separated from Christ. The Lord is making a way for us here on earth, so that we might make a way for others to know this same love for eternity. For this, we are eternally grateful.

How is God calling, equipping, sending, securing, and comforting you today for the purpose of eternity? How will you respond?

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In January 2014, I wrote an article for Desiring God expressing my desire (and my husband’s) has always been to serve the Lord anywhere in the world he would call us to go:

“God’s heart is to redeem the world, to gather his people from every nation. One day, he will be worshiped by people from every tribe and tongue. Until that day comes, we should set our lives to making his name known among all those peoples. Our hearts should grow and grow for God’s glory across the globe, because he cares about his glory among every people, in every place.”

In the past year and a half, the Lord has clarified many of our hopes and dreams and the culmination of those prayers has been the birth of a new ministry endeavor. While it isn’t across the globe, it is outside of the Bible Belt where I’ve lived all my life, in a land with no Texas twang or trace of Mexican food. Kyle and I are thrilled to announce that we have been commissioned by the North American Mission Board to go and make disciples in Baltimore, Maryland. A fantastic team of fellow workers are already there on the ground and we are eager to join them! We hope to move near the end of the summer so everyone can get settled before school starts.

While Baltimore may seem random for those of you just learning about our plans, we assure you our decision isn’t random to God and His kingdom purposes. Before Freddie Gray’s murder and before the rioting that drew national attention, the Lord had already moved many pieces in place as he set his work in motion for the Carlson family at exactly the right time.

As we watched tragedy unfold from states away, our hearts broke as the city rioted and burned. We longed to be on the ground alongside other workers already in place. The media attention in the following weeks has underscored both the city’s brokenness and and our desire to join the good Gospel work already taking place inside the city of Baltimore. Our entire family is excited to be a part of God’s purposes for this city. 

The next few months will be a whirlwind of team building, support raising, packing, house-selling & buying, goodbyes, and many tears. While our excitement grows with each day, so does our sadness as the reality of saying goodbye begins to set in. We would love a chance to sit down (or Skype) with anyone who is interested in hearing more details about the work set before us, in becoming a supporting prayer partner, or joining our team through financial commitment. If you’re excited to find your place in supporting us, shoot me an email. We look forward to sharing encouraging stories of all the Lord is doing in Baltimore for the glory of His name and we hope you’ll be a part!

Would you join us in prayer for both the city of Baltimore and our family?

“How then will they call on him in whom they have not believed? And how are they to believe in him of whom they have never heard? And how are they to hear without someone preaching? And how are they to preach unless they are sent? As it is written, ‘How beautiful are the feet of those who preach the good news!'”

Romans 10:14-15 

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Both of these women have pasts they were thankful to walk away from and they are grateful God sought them out and saved them for himself. So naturally, they want to cross the lines into the enemy’s territory for the sake of Christ. For those of us with prettier, more socially-acceptable pasts, we don’t often feel the same burden to seek and save the lost. Instead, many get stuck serving in only the safe ways; tithing dollars into offering plates, bringing a few canned goods to the food pantry, or volunteering at a shelter once a week. While all of these are good endeavors and any act of humble service honors God and can be used for good and eternal purposes, we must ask how frequently our safe services are pushing back the darkness and bringing the light of Christ to those who haven’t heard. Are we asking God to call us into the less-comfortable, more risky, life-giving avenues of self-abandonment for the sake of gospel ministry?

Our Friend Paul

We could all learn from our friend, the Apostle Paul. This guy lived and breathed evangelism, discipleship, and self-sacrifice. But Paul wasn’t blindly zealous for God’s kingdom; he knew the cost and he valued it above all else. In Acts 20:22-24 as he prepared to head into the dangers that lay before him in Jerusalem, he wrote this message to the Ephesian elders who begged him to stay:

“And now, behold, I am going to Jerusalem, constrained by the Spirit, not knowing what will happen to me there, except that the Holy Spirit testifies to me in every city that imprisonment and afflictions await me. But I do not account my life of any value nor as precious to myself, if only I may finish my course and the ministry that I received from the Lord Jesus, to testify to the gospel of the grace of God.” 

The Ephesians longed for Paul to stay with them – to continue ministering to them in public and in their homes, testifying of repentance toward God and faith in Jesus Christ with all humility and with tears. Paul was a man who stirred those around him to love and follow Christ. But he couldn’t stay, he longed to reach those who hadn’t heard the message of the cross. He couldn’t sit still, he wanted to be in the game.

Like Paul, we too should long to go and make disciples, baptizing them in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit – even when it isn’t safe or comfortable. It might mean joyfully going into sketchy places, sacrificing your time and freedom, missing out on the American dream, being misunderstood or having your desires called into question. And that’s alright. When Jesus called his disciples and said “follow me,” he also said it would mean leaving nets, families, and livelihoods behind.

Encouraging Risk & Waving Good-bye

When our brothers and sisters in the faith share the ways they are following the Father into the fields ripe for harvest, are we cheering them on? Or are we hesitantly talking them into sitting still and staying with the status-quo? Are we threatened by their sacrifice or encouraged by it? Over the years, when God has called friends around me to step out in faith and follow Him into the unknown, I have divided. In turn, I have spoken both words of faithless warning and words of faith-filled encouragement. While sound words of wisdom should have a place in Godly counsel, I must guard myself from counseling others away from risky, cost-filled obedience. Impending affliction isn’t reason enough to counsel believers away form taking the gospel of grace to all people.

After Paul spoke with the Ephesian elders, he knelt down and prayed with them before his departure. They wept together, they embraced, they kissed, and they were sorrowful because they knew they wouldn’t see his face again (Acts 20:36-38). But then, they accompanied him to the ship. They knew Paul had to go. Like the Ephesian elders, we can grieve and weep over the impending affliction of our friends, or what their risk means for our own lives, but ultimately – let’s walk them to the ship. Let’s encourage them and walk beside them as they head towards faithful obedience. And as we see them off, let’s be challenged and encouraged by their obedience and ask ourselves which ships we should consider boarding for the gospel cause.

I’ve been stagnating recently; I don’t leave much behind. I am comfortable with offering plates, Bible studies with believers, and blog posts with little risk. This realization has led me to take inventory of what I need to let go of in order to forge forward to my own versions of Jerusalem. Where is risk right? Where is my safety and security becoming idolatrous and treading water sinful? What about you? Where are your Jerusalems?

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This is the question I’m mulling over today. Currently, the particulars include God’s plans for one of my children and how they don’t look like what I’d hoped they would look like. While praying through my action steps in how to move forward and assist aforementioned child, the Holy Spirit revealed the problem might be with my heart more than the trial.

“Do you trust me? Do you know that I know what’s best and you do not?”

What if instead of scurrying to make a game-plan and “fix” things every time they went off my grid, I thanked God and waited graciously for Him to reveal His hand of blessing. What if I asked Him how I could submit to His wise shaping and trust His refinement?

Real Thorns, Real Gifts

God first attempted to teach me this lesson three years ago, with a literal thorn. A trip to the doctor’s office for generalized pain in my heels revealed both feet had developed bone spurs in the shape of tiny fish hooks. With every stride, my own bones were piercing through muscle. The pain would only be alleviated through surgical intervention – on both feet.

Following surgery were two weeks of bed rest, lying on my back with the corrected foot elevated over my heart. After that came four to six more weeks in a walking boot and physical therapy until things returned to “normal.” Six weeks after the first healed, I repeated the process on the other foot. All of this while I had four kids under 7 running around the house and supposedly homeschooling. Yet, God works all things together for the good of those who love Him and are called according to His purpose (Rom. 8:28).

How God? How can I do this? How could this be for my good?

Three years later I’ve gained quite a bit of perspective. The Lord used my seasons of surgeries for my humbling – to teach me that other people could do my job (taking care of my kids, cleaning my house, grocery shopping, making meals) for me and the world wouldn’t fall apart. He used the deep despair of lying in bed and watching the world go on without me (and a LOT of Netflix), to shake me awake. “What are you investing in that’s of eternal value? Are you glorifying me or biding your time?” He asked.

It was also during this uncomfortable season that the Lord brought the blessing of new friends. A woman new to our church (unfamiliar with my particular season of grumpiness) offered to swing by with her kids and entertain mine. It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship between her family and ours. Of course, knowing the value and the joy I gained from that relationship, I would do both surgeries over again in a heartbeat! But would I do it again to gain the humility birthed from the stripping pain?

Real Joy

In James 1:2 we are instructed to “count it all joy” when we face trials of of various kinds.”All joy. Foot pain, skyrocketing property taxes, cross-country moves, joblessness, cancer, death of a loved one, all of it. This instruction has always astounded me. So much so, that I’ve hesitated to write reflections on it. Like a thorn itself, this expectation has always seemed to catch me and pull at me in each season of suffering.

We cannot count trials joy if we look exclusively to the current state of things. Remember, we walk by faith and not by sight (2 Cor. 5:7). When I look only to the challenge, the pain, and the seeming lack of solutions – I will be tempted to despair. Instead, I must keep my eyes fixed on the steadfastness produced by the testing of my faith (v.3). And most of the time, I will have to wait to see the real joy of this fruit God is producing.

“And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.” (James 1:4)  

What trial are you facing today? How are you tempted to problem-solve, anxiously toil, or generally grumble? Would you pause and thank Him? Thank Him with more than PollyAnna-like optimism. Thank Him for moving mountains in your heart – mountains you may not have ever chosen to move for yourself, on your behalf. Thank Him for developing in you, steadfastness that leads to godliness (2 Peter 1:6). Thank Him for not restraining His mercy from you, but preserving your soul with His faithfulness and steadfast love (Psalm 40:11)!

Do not be deceived, my beloved brothers. Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change. James 1:16-17

The next time you find yourself praying your way through your own thorns, thank Him on the way.

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