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The Jerk in the Starbucks Parking Lot

February 24, 2016 by Marissa Leave a Comment

As I drove into the Starbucks parking lot, I saw a large gray Buick pull into a place reserved for those with disabilities. The lot wasn’t full, so I left an empty space on the driver’s side of the Buick and pulled in two spots over.

I looked over, expecting to see an elderly woman driving the car. But instead, I saw a younger man with long hair and a hoodie. If I encountered him in a dark parking garage, let’s just say I’d be mentally reviewing my knowledge of self-defense.

“Some jerk is driving his grandma’s car and taking advantage of her disabled license plate,” I thought to myself.

I can’t stand it when people park in those spots and don’t need them. I’m far from perfect, but that’s something I’ve never been tempted to do. And in that moment, looking at the young man committing a grievous offense, I judged him harshly. I looked down on him from my tower of parking perfection.

I love rules. To be more precise, I love the rules I can follow. Don’t commit adultery. Check. Attend worship regularly. Double check. Don’t take God’s name in vain. Got it covered.

But when I start thinking about scriptures exhorting me to love my enemies, I start squirming. I can’t even patiently and sacrificially love the people who mean the most to me. Be content with what I have? Consider others more significant than myself? Wait, there’s got to be a loophole in here somewhere.

That’s how it is with judging others, isn’t it? I’m quick to judge those who sin in ways I don’t. And I’m quick to ignore sin in others that I’d rather not face in myself.

When I’m secretly shaking my finger at others, I’ve forgotten I’m dependent on God’s grace to cover all my sin. I’ve forgotten that I’m not accepted because I can keep any of the rules. I’m accepted because Christ kept God’s law perfectly and died to save my rule-breaking soul. As a sinner saved by grace, I am called to extend grace to others.

Back in that Starbucks parking lot, I gathered my things and started to get out of the car. I watched as the young man in the Buick emerged from his car with a significant limp. He hurried to the door and opened it for a woman as she approached the coffee shop.

The only jerk in the parking lot that morning was me.

We Never Suffer Alone {No Matter What Monday}

February 22, 2016 by Marissa Leave a Comment

No matter what you face this week, Christ walks beside you in your suffering.

In Daniel 3, God’s people are living as exiles in Babylon. Three of the Israelites, Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego, face a difficult choice between worshipping a golden image or being thrown into a furnace.

In the minds of these three men, the decision is a no-brainer. In fact, the confident manner in which they defy the king’s order to bow down to the idol sends him into a rage.

After the men are thrown to the flames, the king’s fury changes to confusion. “Wait a minute,” he says, “how many men did we throw into that furnace?”

A fourth man, whose appearance was “like the son of the gods,” walked with the three men in the furnace (Daniel 3:25).

We all know how this story ends: Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego are pulled from the furnace without even a scent of smoke on their clothes. But we know from experience that this type of deliverance isn’t always God’s plan for His people. Sometimes the flames feel like they’re killing us. We may not be pulled from the furnace until we reach heaven. So what can we take away from this story?

Dale Ralph Davis puts it this way in his commentary on Daniel: “Christ did not keep them out of the furnace but found them in it. He does not always shield you from all distresses and dangers, but it is in the loneliness, the betrayal, in the loss that the Fourth Man comes and walks with you.”

If you belong to Christ, you never walk through suffering alone. He has found you, and He will never leave you. Whatever you face this week, your Savior walks with you.

When God Doesn’t Read the Memo

February 17, 2016 by Marissa Leave a Comment

Last month, I stood at the window of a downtown Memphis hotel room, looking down at a minor league ballpark as the memories came rushing back.

On a Thursday in March 2001, just before noon, I joined my husband and the rest of his medical school class as they stood near their assigned base at that ballpark, each clutching an envelope. Like a bizarre adult version of a sorority bid day, the envelopes contained news of where each graduating medical student would continue their training for the next several years.

I knew what our letter said. I had spent months praying and trusting God for that moment. I was confident that He had gone before us, working out the details of His good plans for us. God was good. God was in control. Therefore, I expected to get what I wanted.

At the strike of noon, my husband opened his envelope, and my plans all fell apart.

It took a minute for my brain to figure out what my eyes were seeing: Indiana University School of Medicine. Indiana? I looked up into the ballpark bleachers, racking my brain for a mental map of the United States. Where was Indiana?

Somewhere near those other “I” states, I thought, Illinois and Iowa, land of cold and corn and snow and nowhere close to anyone I know. That’s when the tears started, and I shoved my sunglasses over my eyes to hide my distress.

After driving home and changing the greeting on our answering machine—the most efficient way of spreading news in 2001—I climbed into bed, hid under the covers, and wept for most of the afternoon. I couldn’t understand what happened. I had plans. They were good plans: relationships, career, and ministry. I was confident that God approved. And yet, my plans had been ripped from my hands and torn to shreds.

In the following months, God showed me that I hadn’t been trusting Him at all. What I thought was trust in God’s plans was really trusting that God would get on board with my plans.

“For I know the plans you have for yourself,” declares the Lord, “And I’m here to give you what you want.” That was my personal rendition of Jeremiah 29:11.

Now standing in that Memphis hotel room, I could picture that 24-year-old Marissa, learning through her pain how to trust the Lord more deeply. The experience that hurt so badly at the time now looks like one of God’s greatest mercies to me.

He knew that ten years later, His plans would take a drastic turn from my plans once again. I would need to trust Him, not only with where I’d live for the next few years, but whether or not I’d live to raise my children.

My Heavenly Father knew I needed a decade of big and small lessons in surrender to build my confidence in His wisdom and faithfulness. In His kindness, He didn’t let me walk through the next decade with an incomplete understanding of what it meant to trust His plans.

How is God asking you to trust Him today? What would it look like to surrender your plans and genuinely trust His wisdom and faithfulness to you?

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord,

“plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

Jeremiah 29:11 (NIV)

God Can Be Trusted {No Matter What Monday}

February 15, 2016 by Marissa 1 Comment

No matter what we face this week, God can be trusted.

Os Guiness writes, “Christians do not say, ‘I do not understand you at all, but I trust you anyway.’ Rather we say, ‘I do not understand you in this situation, but I understand why I trust you anyway.’”

Can you say that? Do you understand why you trust God even when you don’t understand what He’s doing?

God has proved His trustworthiness in many ways—in our lives, in His Word, and in history. The ultimate demonstration of His trustworthiness was the Cross. God made the greatest sacrifice to meet our greatest need: He gave His Son for the salvation of sinners. He proved that He will go to any lengths necessary to meet the needs of His beloved children. Therefore, we can trust Him.

Our trust wanes and falters at times, doesn’t it? I know mine does! I’m thankful that my hope is in God’s unchangeable character, not my own fickle faith.

We may not trust perfectly or even feel like trusting at all. But we can cling to our understanding of God’s character, even when we don’t understand our circumstances.

He who did not spare his own son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things?

Romans 8:32

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