Michelle DeRusha

Every Day Faith. Faith Every Day.

Weekend One Word

Weekend One Word: Witness

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I admit, as a writer, I don’t much love this verse. As a writer, I tend to put a lot of weight on words. And I hope that my words will make an impact on the spiritual lives of others. I want my words to bear witness.

But God’s got me thinking hard about this. I think Jesus is actually saying two important things here:

One: Our words — what we say about God — are not the most important thing.

And two, perhaps even more critical: our actions — what we do as the result of our faith — are not the most important thing either.

Which is a little unexpected, don’t you think? When I consider what makes a “good Christian” and what’s indicative of a “good Christian life,” I think of service: what am I doing to help others? What am I doing to live out my faith? And while I do believe service is an important element of faith, I also think it’s critical that we not miss what Jesus is really saying here.

This verse reminds me that a cleansed and grateful life is not something I do. It’s something I receive. A cleansed and grateful life is, in essence, grace, which is not something we earn or deserve, but something we receive and accept as a gift from God.

A cleansed and grateful life is a transformed life, and transformation is not something we initiate or even live out ourselves, but something that is initiated by God and received by us.

This doesn’t let us off the hook, of course. We are still called by God to act justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with him. But we would be wise to remember that our every act of mercy, justice, and humility has its roots in the transformed life that is first and foremost the gift of God’s grace.

God always does the doing. And in our grateful receiving, we bear witness to what he has done.

Weekend One Word: Give Up

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Well, yes, I realize Weekend One Word is actually two words this time. Sometimes it can’t be helped, right?

I heard this verse in church last week, and it was one of those knock-me-flat moments. I’ve read these words countless times before, but for some reason, they leapt off the page of the bulletin, grabbed me by the metaphorical throat, and would not let go. That ever happen to you?

I think I’ve repeated this verse — particularly the “Give up your own way” part — to myself at least two or three times every day since I heard it. I simply can’t get it out of my head. I find myself arguing with God. “Come on…you know that’s impossible, right? Give up my own way entirely? You know me, God…it’s not going to happen.” 

And so on and so forth.

I have moments when I really, truly do give up my own way, when I surrender wholly to God, trusting him with my life in its entirety. But the moments don’t last. I wind up struggling for control again, pushing, striving, forcing. Dropping my nets and taking two steps forward, only to run back and snatch them up again.

It’s exhausting. And disheartening.

Truth be told, I don’t have a big revelation for you here today (do I ever?). I’m just trying to be real, to put it all on the page and admit that this Christ-centered life I desire is hard. When it comes right down to it, I don’t really know how to do it, to be all-in with God and for God.

But maybe that’s the point. Maybe there isn’t a “how.” Maybe there’s not a ten-step action plan (Triple Type A me really, really wants an action plan). Maybe there’s not a “how” at all… only a Who, beckoning us, inviting us in, asking that we lean, rest, abide, remain.

Maybe “giving up” our “own way” isn’t an action so much as a stance, a way of being. Maybe we must be before we can do.

Weekend One Word: Possible

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“I’ll put my spirit in you and make it possible for you to do what I tell you and live by my commands.” (Ezekiel 36:27)

A few months ago, after I heard an Iraqi refugee speak at a local event, I felt compelled to do something I’ve never done before. A few days after the event, I called the refugee resettlement department of Lutheran Family Services and volunteered to sponsor a refugee family.

Within a few weeks we had received the names and ages of the six refugees who would be traveling from Iraq to Lincoln. My family and a small group of friends collected furniture, household items, and other donations and set up an apartment for the family.

That was the easy part.

Vanja, our resettlement coordinator, asked my husband, Brad, and me if we would be willing to drive the family to the doctors and other appointments after they arrived in Lincoln. Even as I heard myself say yes, I knew that interacting personally with the family, only one of whom speaks English, would push the boundaries of my comfort zone.

I was right.

One afternoon, as I stood on the curb with the mom and her four kids after driving them home from a doctor’s appointment, I thought they were blowing kisses to me. Figuring it was a Yazidi goodbye custom, I blew kisses back, only to realize mid-kiss that the mom was actually trying to convey an invitation to come inside to have something to eat. I felt my face redden as I shook my head and laughed uncomfortably, trying to communicate, as graciously as possible without language, “No, thank you.” I felt more than a little stupid and embarrassed as I drove away.

Jesus simplified God’s commands for us in the Gospels when he reduced them to two: Love God, and love your neighbor as yourself.

Notice the way the second commandment is phrased. It’s not simply: “Love your neighbor,” but “Love your neighbor as yourself.”

To love your neighbor as yourself means to go all out, no holds barred, 110%. Our society and our biology insist that we put ourselves first, but God expects us to treat our neighbors the same way we treat ourselves. Living out God’s command in real life is a tall order – dare I say an impossible one on some days (depending on the day and the neighbor).

The Holy Spirit – God in us – is a powerful force. When we listen to the Spirit and heed his prompts, we will be compelled to step into scenarios we ordinarily wouldn’t dream of considering – commitments that far exceed our comfort and our perceived limitations.

This is exactly why God gives us the Holy Spirit. He knows we need the Spirit in order to fulfill his commands. He knows, on most days, we are incapable of truly loving our neighbors as ourselves.

Only God’s Spirit in us makes it possible for us to live out what often feels like an impossible command.

Weekend One Word: Rooted

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Weekend One Word: Rooted

“So keep at your work, this faith and love rooted in Christ, exactly as I set it out for you. It’s as sound as the day you first heard it from me. Guard this precious thing placed in your custody by the Holy Spirit who works in us.”
(1 Timothy 1:13-14).

You might mistakenly read these verses and assume, as I did, that Paul is speaking about your calling or ministry. I read the word “work,” and I automatically think about the work I am called to do, which is primarily writing.

But look again. Paul defines our work as “faith and love rooted in Christ.” Faith and love are the work God has for us first and foremost – not our job that pays the bills, not even our vocation or calling or ministry, but simply our faith and love, rooted in Christ.

I lose sight of this all. the. time. I forget that my primary vocation isn’t doing, but being. My primary vocation isn’t the work I do, it’s who I am as a beloved child of God. Whatever I do must be born out of my rootedness in Christ.

It’s no coincidence that faith and love aren’t anything we have to do; they aren’t “work” in the traditional definition of the word. We don’t earn faith and love. We don’t achieve faith and love through our own efforts. Rather, faith and love are a gift.

As Paul says, this primary “work,” this faith and love that’s rooted in Christ and placed in us by the Holy Spirit, is precious. It’s precious because we so easily lose sight of it. We turn it around. We get it backwards. More often than not, we look to our work to root us – to ground, define, and identify us.

But here’s the truth, here’s what Paul reminds Timothy, and us, in this letter:

Our calling isn’t our work, but rather, the fruit of our relationship with God. The fruit is born of the root.

Weekend One Word: Simplicity

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Weekend One Word:Simplicity

I was talking with a writing friend yesterday, and we agreed: this publishing business can be hard. It’s not for the weak or thin-skinned. The temptation to compare is always right there at the surface, and it’s pretty easy, with multiple social media channels and websites at our fingertips, to see the progress and success of others. It’s easy to look at ranks and numbers and shares and sales and conclude you don’t measure up, that you’re not enough, that you don’t possibly have a chance.

Late yesterday afternoon I sat on the front step with my Bible open on my lap. It’s unseasonably warm here in Nebraska – yesterday hit 74 degrees. I lay back on the still-winter-cool concrete, gazed up at the bare branches of the honey locust tree, and thought about the truth in Paul’s words to Timothy.

The truth is, when we lose sight of our primary identity, we lose ourselves.

It’s frightfully easy to do. The world is full of temptation. We can go from smooth sailing on calm seas to being tossed to and fro in the blink of an eye. Our culture cat-calls us, taunting us to lift our gaze and release our grasp from the anchor that grounds us. And when we do, we sink faster than a box full of rocks.

Yesterday I reminded my friend of who she is:

Beloved.

Cherished.

Wanted.

Enough.

I reminded her of her primary identity as a child of God.

And as I heard my own words ramble into her Voxer, I remembered and embraced this essential truth myself.

Paul’s right. When we ground ourselves in Christ, we remember who we are, and nothing – not numbers, not sales, not ranks or book contracts or advances — can diminish the power, security, and freedom in that.

There is a beautiful, rich, liberating simplicity in knowing who you are at your core. When you know first and foremost above all else that you are a beloved child of God, when you believe it to the tips of your fingers and the ends of your toes, you can be yourself – your unique, God-created, amazing self — with confidence, joy, and peace.

That’s my prayer for you this weekend, Lovelies — that you will know deep in the innermost part of your soul that you are loved, and that you will rejoice in the rich simplicity of that life-transforming truth.

Amen.