PAULA WISEMAN

Faith and life meet in a story

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2 Questions

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crossing the boxHere are two multiple choice questions.

1. Who am I?

A. I will accept an identity thrust upon me by someone else. I will wear their labels.

B. I will forge an identity of my own choosing, often based on how others treat me. If they disrespect me, I will believe I lack worth and so forth.

C. I will embrace the identity my Creator bestows on me, including but not limited to: Accepted. Beloved, Chosen, Holy, Blameless (Ephesians 1:3-6)

 

2. Whom will I worship?

A. I will worship myself, and live in a way that provides me the best advantages. I will pursue pleasure, and comfort.

B. I will worship someone else, or a series of someones, my fortunes rising and falling as their wants and needs change. I will seek their approval and give myself to fulfill them.

C. I will worship the God who loved me and gave Himself to make sure I was never separated from Him. He strengthens, upholds, and helps me. (Isaiah 41:10)

 

 

Your answers make all the difference in the world, and all the difference in eternity.

 

 

 

 

6 Lessons from the River Run

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2014-05-21 19.53.34I’m not a very good runner. I’ll just say that up front. And I’m even worse at races than I am at running around in the mornings. This past Saturday, my husband and I ran the Evansville River Run. It’s a ten-mile race starting in Henderson, Kentucky, crossing the Ohio River bridge and finishing in Evansville, Indiana. Talk about a learning experience … And all of the lessons apply to the race I’m running in my Christian life.

 

1. You think you’re prepared…

Training runs are a whole different ballgame from a race. The course was hillier than I was used to. I overdressed. (That was a calculated risk. I hate, hate being cold.) Running by the highway is mentally fatiguing.

We often think that after a weekly church service, we’re prepared for whatever gets thrown at us, but we’re often surprised by circumstances. Situations often prove more challenging than we imagined and we discover that theory and life are two different things. We need to make sure we are relying on God in humility and not trusting ourselves.

 

2. I started strong and finished strong. The middle … not so much.

Through the first six miles I was on pace to do better than any of my training runs. Then reality struck. And by reality, I mean pain. Everything hurt except for my hair and my eyebrows. And my hair was close. I chose to ease off on my pace and finish well rather than risk a real injury. My last 400m was my fastest all day.

We usually start out really strong, really gung-ho for Jesus, but somewhere in the middle of things we run into some painful times. It is extremely important to back off and give yourself time to rest and heal so you can stay in the race and finish strong.

 

3. Having folks cheer you on is awesome.

I have no idea who most of them were but it was a little easier to run with some encouragement, especially from the little guy who high-fived me toward the end and my son and a really good friend near the finish.

We really underestimate the value of encouragement in the body of Christ. It can help prevent burning out, dropping out and falling out. Let’s resolve not to be so stingy with it.

 

4. Having someone come along beside to run with you is even awesome-r.

My husband finished forty minutes before I did, but he came back and met me at mile 9 and finished with me. I told him everything hurt. He reminded me that my pace wasn’t bad, that in twelve more minutes we’d be done, that the finish wasn’t nearly as far away as it looked, that he was proud of me … all kinds of good stuff.

We not only have fellow believers to come alongside us, but God Himself is right there in the person of the Holy Spirit offering guidance and encouragement.

 

5. The effects last way beyond the race.

The race was Saturday. It was Tuesday before I could walk down steps without turning sideways.

Make no mistake, the things we do in this life will have an impact on eternity.

 
6. Finishing is what counts.

Oh, sure the guy who won finished in less than half the time that I did, but you know what? I got the very same medal they got. All the finishers did.

There is coming a day when we will each cross a finish line a receive a reward. I haven’t seen it, but I’m pretty sure it’s a lot better than a medal.

 

 
Have you done something that stretched you? What lessons did you learn?

 

 

 

4 Lessons Learned in a Storm

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iStock_000015981001SmallIn Luke 8:22, Jesus says to His disciples, “Let us cross over to the other side of the lake.”

Not long after, a violent storm arose, causing even the most experienced sailors among them to fear for their lives. In those moments, Jesus taught His followers some important lessons, lessons we’re still learning today, things we’ll never grasp standing on the shore.

 

1. Storms don’t surprise God.

Jesus sent His disciples into that storm. The trip across the lake was His idea. He knew the storm would come and He sent them into the teeth of  it.

2. We don’t go into them alone.

He went into the storm with them. God doesn’t throw us into a situation with the hopes that we’ll swim rather than sink. He is right there before, during and after.

3. Kingdom living can’t be all theory.

Jesus had just finished delivering the Sermon on the Mount challenging the conventional wisdom on what it meant to honor God and live a life of faith not works. The storms raise difficult questions. Things like how could God let this happen to me? Don’t you care that we perish? Where is your faith? It is in the storms where we decide if we are going to live the life He calls us to or just recite the platitudes.

4. The storms reveal His true nature.

Jesus was in control the entire time. The storm didn’t surprise Him. It didn’t last an instant longer than He allowed and when it was over, His deity was unquestioned.

 

What have you learned through the storms?

 

 

 

Trust the Training

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And my speech and my preaching were not with persuasive words of human wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power, that your faith should not be in the wisdom of men but in the power of God. 1 Corinthians 2:4-5

 
I haven’t written any running posts in a while because I haven’t run in a while. The truth is, I’m a sissy. I don’t run when it’s cold and I hate the treadmill, so I take the winters off. I guess that works toward my ultimate goal of still running when I’m seventy (twenty-four years to go!) but it means a slow start in the spring, rebuilding mileage and speed. My November 5K times are two or three minutes faster than my March times.

Last year, I had hopes of running a half marathon later in the season. That’s thirteen miles. Three times I made it to ten miles. Now ten miles is nothing to sneeze at, but when I couldn’t make my goal times for ten miles, I didn’t sign up for the half.

 

 
In four weeks, I’m running a 10 mile race. Even though it’s spring. Even though the weather has been terribly uncooperative so far. Even though I’m starting to transition from “I can do this,” to “What was I thinking?” Even though it’s the very thing I failed at last summer.

Runners are fond of saying, “Trust the training.” In other words, you trust that the little things you’ve been doing everyday have adequately prepared you for race day. My husband even said after a recent six-mile run, “If you can do six, you can do ten.” I’m not so sure. I know how I felt at the end of six. He assured me that the training would kick in, and that I’m better prepared than I realize.

 

 
As believers, God will often put things on our hearts– goals, hopes, dreams, ministries– things we don’t feel prepared for, maybe that we feel totally inadequate for. Because of that, more often than not, we close the door. The opportunity passes and we ignore the tug inside until it fades away.

But those situations are the very ones that showcase God’s power and not our own abilities. Not only that, we see what God has been building in us all along. It’s up to us to trust the training, and ultimately the Trainer when He says we can handle ten, even if we think six is really pushing it.

 

Is there something you’ve felt God nudging you toward? Is it time to trust the training and the Trainer?

 

7 Things Believers Could Learn from Community Theater

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10007069_10152356880233377_773571514_nMy kids just finished an epic two weekend run of Les Miserables as part of seventy-three member cast, with superb talent in the principal roles and backed up by a top-notch orchestra and a very gifted, seasoned crew. It was simply an amazing production. I saw the movie Les Miserables, but the show, this show blew it away.

There are a number of lessons that we as the body of Christ could learn from community theater.

 

There is one Director.

Yes, the Director delegated responsibilities to the technical director, the musical director, the stage manager, the costumer and others, but the Director has the last word, and everybody understood that.

In the body of Christ, we have one pastor. Often we have additional leaders to help shoulder some of the responsibilities, but there is only one leader.

 

They were more committed to the show than the role.

My youngest was the only one of my kids to get the part he or she wanted. Hers was a no-line walk-on role, but it meant wearing a pretty dress. That was all Rachel needed to hear. The older two rehearsed, auditioned and waited for a very long two days to learn they didn’t get the parts they wanted. They weren’t the only ones who were dejected when the cast list was posted, but after the disappointment faded, they respected the Director’s decision. They were committed to the show not the part.

We have a mission, not a performance, but we need to be more committed to accomplishing what Christ gave us to do than the role we play in it.

 

Everyone involved had a tremendous desire to bring the production to life and to make it the best it can be.

They knew the story and everyone, from the leads to the chorus went the extra mile to lend depth and realism to it. A number of the cast had the show memorized before rehearsals even began. They weren’t doing it for money, or notoriety, or to advance their careers or to earn an award. For the community theater, it’s a labor of love. They love the show, the story, the music and they love the opportunity to perform it.

We as believers need that same desire to bring the gospel to life for those around us.

 

The entire group willingly sacrificed sleep, missed meals, and put everything else on hold for the sake of the show.

It was no secret what the rehearsal schedule would be– four nights a week, two or three hours a night. Then the last week, it was a killer. We had dinner at four p.m. so the kids could make a 5 p.m. call. Then they ran the full show and had a meeting afterwards so the Director could make last-minute tweaks. It was ten thirty or eleven when they got home. Four nights of that then three shows in three days. But I don’t know of anyone who looked at the schedule and backed out.

Christ calls us to sacrifice, to lay down our lives, to take up our crosses for the sake of the Gospel. It’s no secret what His expectations are. We love the idea of sacrificing for the kingdom, but the reality is often another matter.

 

Everyone’s gifts were valued.

The whole company understood that no matter how well the singers performed, if the lights and microphones didn’t work, neither would the show. They deeply appreciated everyone’s contributions and aren’t bashful about saying so.

Even New Testament believers struggled with wanting the high-profile gifts and ministries. Paul encouraged us to remember that God values services differently than we do. He’s much more concerned with our surrender and obedience.

 

They weren’t deterred by adversity.

Between casting and rehearsals, one of the principles underwent unplanned surgery. Two or three rounds of stomach flu raged through the cast. A couple of the cast lost members of their extended family. There were colds, allergies, lost voices and collapsed lung.

We were promised adversity, especially considering the enemy is constantly working against us. We can’t let that stop us.

 

They all had a sense that they were part of something amazing.

Reading Facebook posts and comments from the company in the weeks leading up to the show, the common thread was humble anticipation. Their enthusiasm spread to the audience even before the first notes, and the audience went home with a true ‘wow’ experience.

When we get bogged down in the details, we need to remind ourselves that we are part of God’s amazing redemptive plan. Our enthusiasm (or lack thereof) is infectious.

 

What do you think? Are there other lessons we could learn?

 

 

 

2 Ways to Hear Your Spouse with Grace

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Tomorrow my husband and I celebrate twenty-two years of marriage. We thought we knew what we were getting into when we got married. We had no idea, but we agree we wish we had done it a lot sooner. There have been a lot of adjustments made, a lot of maturing done, and a lot of storms weathered. We’ve learned a few things along the way, and one of them proves what relationship books and counselors will tell you– Open, honest communication is key.

 

Communication involves two processes – speaking and hearing. I did a quick search about speech in Scripture and there is plenty of advice on choosing your words carefully, and about the power of words for good and evil. I didn’t find as much on hearing. Oh, hearing appears numerous times, but it’s in the context of hearing instruction in order to obey, or God hearing prayers. How we listen to each other is covered indirectly by verses like these.

 

Let nothing be done through selfish ambition or conceit, but in lowliness of mind let each esteem others better than himself. Let each of you look out not only for his own interests, but also for the interests of others. (Philippians 2:3-4)

 

What do those verses have to do with hearing? In our marriage, here’s how those guidelines Paul gave have played out.

Positive Assumptions – This is just a fancy way to say you choose to act in humility not pride and give someone the benefit of the doubt. Whatever stupidness he or she may have uttered, take a moment, strip away the sheer stupidity to find the non-stupidness he or she probably meant. Make an active choice to believe the other person never intended the stupidness at all, but is merely clumsy, inarticulate, tired, cranky or clueless. The words may still sting, but the wound will not be as deep or lingering. (Of course, I am in no way suggesting you dismiss or endure verbal abuse.)

 

Baggage and Translation – You each had a life before marriage and that life influences how you interpret and translate what you hear. We joke that the only argument we’ve ever had was over a a peanut butter sandwich. In Jon’s experience, a peanut butter sandwich, by definition included the jelly. In my understanding, a person had to say he wanted jelly, that is, he had to ask for a peanut butter AND JELLY sandwich. So when I presented him with his peanut butter sandwich, his first remark was “Where’s the jelly?”

 

Goofy examples aside, research has shown that we rely on nonverbal cues, on body language, on facial expressions, on tone of voice far more than the actual words. Then we mash that together with vulnerabilities and fears that may be rooted all the way back in our childhoods before we hear anything.

One of the most significant conversations in our marriage was a series of “when you say this, I hear this” statements. Not only did it open the door for much more effective communication, but it gave each of us a sense worth and value because we were heard, understood and known. In other words, our interests were protected. (Or at least that’s how it worked for me.)

 

Hearing each other with grace and humility is one of the biggest lessons we’ve learned in our marriage. What is a big lesson you’ve learned in your relationships?

 

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