{when God [finally] opens the door}

So we have a local hero around here named Nevin Ashley. He is one of North Knox’s own and has

spent ten years in the minor leagues. WHICH IN ITSELF IS A VERY BIG DEAL. Whether you know him personally or not, if you are a Knox County native, chances are you are talking about him this week. And if you do happen to know him personally, you are certainly talking about him tonight!

He’s a local favorite, a great guy, and even though we all cheered him on through his many moves in the minors… His heart has always been set on the big show.  Major League Baseball.

I’m sure to many, after three years… four years… eight years of waiting it had to seem like that dream would not be realized. According to the Brewer’s website, he had his own moments of doubt as well, nearly retiring in 2013. It gets weary, standing in the hallway just waiting for that door to open.

And then, this week… it DID. After a decade working his butt off in the minors, Nevin got the call he had dreamed about since he was a little boy playing summer league ball.  Eight hundred and seventy games in the minor leagues, ten years of practice, playing, injury, moving, and waiting… it all paid off as he took his first at bat stance in a Major League game.  And our family, along with countless other families in the NK area became instant Brewers fans.

And we all cheered like crazy when his first at bat yielded a double and an RBI.  We hung on every word the announcers had to say about his plays in the game (Jim is, as I type, re-listening to them all). They were rooting for him too, they recognized the magic of someone called up after a decade in the minors.  All because he didn’t give up. All because when he felt like giving up, he had a wife who encouraged him to keep playing the game that he loved. All because he made the absolute best out of the hallway.

As my Facebook feed fills up with congratulations, well wishes, and posts sharing his story into the Majors… I wonder if he is pinching himself? All that wait… and here he is, playing Major League ball. EIGHT HUNDRED AND SEVENTY GAMES, you guys.

All.That.WAIT.

Are any of you in a season of waiting? Feeling your way down an unfamiliar hall just waiting for the door to be opened for you?

I know about life in the hallway. I know what it’s like to have a call on your life, a destiny, a dream… and to wait and wait and wait for that door to open. I thought I was on the verge of the door being opened, six years ago.  But the Lord had different plans. He knew exactly what I needed, and He had to take me into a season of waiting to teach me things. So that I could learn from Him how to walk in humility and peace and love. So that he could train my spiritual muscles to respond quickly to His bidding and slowly to injury.  

Like Nevin there were times when I doubted the dream He had given me… and then an encourager would come along. A message out of the blue from someone who had little idea of the season I was in that would say “don’t give up, He’s still going to do this thing”. A Word spoken at just the right time. He sees you, and He’s using this season.

And like Nevin, this very night I am pinching myself. My life is overflowing with praise for all He has done. For the doors He has opened. When I look back on the last few years and the wait that felt like an eternity… I can see why. I can see the refining. The changing. The growing. The persevering through injury. Learning to trust in seasons of transition and moving. 

I am still a million miles from the "big league", but today as my friend Jeanie and I walked from the jail with smiles on our faces we both felt the same thing- encouraged. Tonight as the kids at Sprouts leaned in to hear how specially they were created by God- I was full of hope.  A few nights ago as a teen said “we can trust you”- my heart nearly burst. I may not be playing in the Majors, or have my name spoken on national TV, but tonight I feel like I'm exactly where He wants me to be. And it's amazing. 

What even is my life? How did I get so darn blessed? How did that long season of waiting turn into this??

I wonder if Nevin is feeling the same thing?

What even is my life? I had almost given up… now I am catching in a Major League Game. How did I get so blessed? How did 870 games in the minors turn into this??

Be encouraged, my friend. If you are playing your 698^th game in the minor leagues, be encouraged that the door is still there and it can still be opened. Be encouraged that this season of training is for the good. Be encouraged that He has a plan and a purpose, and that if God has planted a dream in your heart, He will bring you to it.

Tonight as we watched Nevin play against the Marlins… as we cheered him on with every play… I was reminded that dreams really do come true. It’s amazing to hear a corn fed Knox County boy’s name being called out by MLB announcers. It’s kind of a big deal.

I’m so not a big deal. But my God certainly is. And if He can put hands like mine to work for Him, what in the world could He do with you. Don’t shy away from a season in the hallway. Don’t give up when the door feels like it’s a million years away. Just keep doing what you can do where you are until He calls you up into your destiny.

And when you are sitting on your couch after a day overflowing with blessing (or in the locker room after your first game in the MLB), remember to thank Him. I can only imagine that Nevin has been… and I’m beyond certain that this girl is too.

Father, thank you for all the seasons of our life! Lord I PRAISE YOU for time spent in the hallway! Lord I praise you that even when doors are opened, it's not an END but a NEW BEGINNING! Father encourage those tonight who find themselves in a season of waiting. Encourage the ones who have grown weary in the wait... remind them tonight Lord that YOU are a God who is in charge, and who knows exactly what we need to walk in everything you have destined for us. Lord, we say tonight that we trust you... help us to praise you, wherever we are... even if it's in the hall! In Jesus Name...

{I was a prisoner and you came to me}

35 For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, 36 I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me.’ 37 Then the righteous will answer him, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink?38 And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you?39 And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?’ 40 And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.’ (Matthew 25:35-40)

I remember studying this passage of scripture in Sunday school and actually thinking to myself "I'm glad you send me to the sick and not the prisoners, God." 

I looked at the guy in our class who works at the prison. That's just too hard. Those people are too hard.  Sure, someone needs to go minister there- I was just really glad it wasn't me. I couldn't do it. I couldn't go so far out of my comfort zone. And yet, His Word kept assaulting me with the truth of our calling to minister to those in jail...

Of course, that is precisely where He was going to take me, and I weep with joy that He would love me enough to send me to the jail in His Name. My friends and I that minister there are so wildly blessed by the Jesus we meet inside those cinder block walls. Sitting with women, in jail, singing songs to our King, with our King... no other worship service quite like it!

And then, last week, THIS happened. Seven of our girls were baptized, and it was one of the most powerful experiences of my entire life. 

I wish you could have been there. I wish I had pictures or a video. I wish that I had more than words to express the amount of Jesus that was in that place that day. The amount of grace. The amount of joy. The amount of peace. 

Still, I have a way you can join us in that place. I have a way that you can be a minister of grace in the Knox County Jail. 

I am looking for people to partner in a Bible ministry for the jail. Let me be real here, there is no shortage of Bibles at the jail. In fact the library has stacks and stacks of Bibles that people have donated or given or taken in there. The problem is, these Bibles have no study notes, no concordance, no glossary... no tools to help someone who has never opened a Bible before to understand on their own what they are reading. 

So, He led me to start getting these Bibles for the girls. 

As I asked the Lord what Bibles to get His answer was simple... "what Bible do YOU read". I know there are many worthy Bibles out there with study notes, but these girls really respond to the the Life Application Study Bible in the New Living Translation. I know there are less expensive options, but if this particular Bible can help these girls grow the deep roots they will need to withstand the temptations of this world outside those jail walls, it's so worth it!

And so, I invite you to join our ministry and bless these girls. The local Bible Bookstore, who is always incredibly supportive of this ministry, has offered to sell them to us, in bulk at just over $20 a Bible... so I'm looking for people willing to buy "one of those really nice Bibles" (as they call them in the jail) for a girl desperate for a hope and a future. Desperate for the truth. Desperate for the armor she will only find in these pages. 

If you want to buy a Bible (or two, or twenty)- just get in touch with me. There are always new girls coming in, and so the need will be steady.  You can email me at becky.boyles@gmail.com (also my PayPal address, just in case you were wondering) or text me at 812-890-1463. If we end up with "too much" money, there are many ways we can bless the girls- Bible Study guides they can do on their own time, books, etc. 

I was in prison and you came to me.

You may not be called to physically visit the prisoner. But you can still be a minister of grace to them. Can't wait to see who God will bless with partnership in this ministry! Thank you, friends!!!

{from mud to mercy}

Today I knelt by a black plastic horse trough filled with grace from a garden hose.

This one whom I had just met a few months ago came toward me. Her loose fitting jump suit not fitting an occasion such as this, but it is the only garment she has. No robe of white for her baptism. No heated baptistery. Just a striped jump suit, cold water, and grace.

And these hands. These hands of mine that have stolen and cheated. These hands that have been perverse and vile and violent. These hands on hers…

This mouth that once denied God. Words that once cursed, lied, slandered. Words that cut to the quick and then exploded with a death blow. Now a flow of love from the mercy seat…

“Jesus loves you so much, my friend. He loves you with everything…”

Tears streaming down her cheeks and mine. This is not how we picture grace. Our hearts grow cynical. Names in the paper become faceless statistics.  

But those names have stories.

And for this one, her story just collided headlong into grace. And it is being rewritten.

“Are you ready, sister? Are you ready to follow Jesus with your entire heart, and mind, and soul?”

Tears become sobs… and “yes, yes, yes, yes, yes” comes tumbling out of a spirit that is desperate for a Savior. Desperate for the promise of a hope and a future. Desperate for HIM.

And then from the same mouth that once denied Him… “I now baptize you, my sister, in the name of the Father… and of the Son… and of the Holy Spirit”.

And hands that were once stained with sin follow her as she kneels forward. All in.

All in.

Face forward into grace.

Water from a hose become a symbol of union with Him. Union in death, and union in New Life.

Water turned grace in the wash bay of a jail gushing over the sides of a black horse trough… I feel it’s cool on my hands and up my arms… splashing feet that had once taken the path of the prodigal… soaking the hem of my skirt. The hem of my garment.

An anointing like no other. An anointing of grace I have never known. An anointing of grace I would never have dared to dream about or imagine when my own desperate sobs cried out to Him in my sin.

That He could use a wretch like me. That He could use hands that have done such harm. That He could use a mouth that has wounded so many… as an instrument of grace.

He found me in the mud. He found me in a pig sty of my own making after I had demanded my inheritance and ran off to the far country. He let me get to the end of myself… He knew I had to… or I would never see my own desperate need for Him.

He watched as I went my own way. He wept as I made wrong choices. He hurt as I denied Him.

And somewhere in that mess… somewhere in that darkness… He declared “THAT ONE… bring her to me”… and sending His Son right into the center of my messy heart, He did just that. He sought me… He rescued me… He sent people to love me right where I was at. People who spoke grace and lived love and stirred a desire in me for more.

And now, my hands on the back of one who had just arrived to the end of herself.  My heart overflowing with His love for her.

As she steps from the water, overcome by His love, another comes.

And another.

And another.

Seven times I kneel by that beautiful baptistery.

Seven times He issues an invitation to love and mercy and grace.

Seven times His Bride says “yes”.

Seven times hearts are overwhelmed and tears fall and forgiveness is received and lives are reconciled.

Seven times His grace covers His Beloved.

Seven times striped jump suits are traded for robes of righteousness.

Seven times it splashes over the sides of a horse trough that could not contain it.  

And I am undone.

From mud to mercy. If ever those words were ever true of my story, they were true today. 

Learning to run my race

My husband and I watched with great anticipation as our daughter took her place on the track.  It was the first track meet of the season, and she would be running the second leg of the 4x100m relay. The gun sounded and her friend sprinted toward her, the baton was handed off, and Tali took off. Well, she sort of took off. She looked every part the runner, her stride was long and beautiful, her back was straight, her arms were pumping appropriately... but it looked as though she was running into a strong headwind no one else was experiencing.  The kids from other schools quickly pulled away from her in that 100m and when Tali handed off the baton to her teammate, they were solidly in last place.

Our kids have not necessarily been ones who excelled at everything they put their effort to, but they have usually been near the front of the proverbial pack. This sinking to last was a new feeling for Tali.. and for mom and dad cheering from the crowd.

I wondered how she would do as her team came across the finish line in last place. Worried I watched for a crestfallen expression, slumped shoulders, all the symptoms of defeat... and instead I saw Tali skipping and laughing across the infield to meet the rest of her team. I observed her joking with friends on the bleachers between events. I watched as she went to help other runners with the starting blocks. She was just fine.

As we marched our way through track season, very little changed. Tali did occasionally get placed on the fastest relay team for her school, which meant despite her running-into-a-headwind-technique she still managed to pull a couple of blue ribbons with her team. She remained steadfast and faithful to track practice, despite the fact that when I asked how it went she would answer "awful!" with the biggest smile.

So at the last meet of the season, I knew what to expect. My friend had joined me to keep me company and to cheer Tali on. I warned her about the headwind, and she laughed with me when it came to pass. Another event and much of the same.

That's when the social-worker-I-care-about-feelings rose up in my friend and she asked "How is she doing with all of this".

"All of what?"

"All of this, you know... not excelling at something" (<--- which is a very nice social-worker-i-care-about-feelings way of saying losing). 

I paused. And I realized... she's doing really good with it all.

Actually, she is excelling at... being mediocre (at best)... sticking with something that is HARD... maintaining a positive attitude even when she isn't clutching a fist full of blue ribbons or hearing her name over the loud speaker.

And sitting there with the cold wind blowing and a thick quilt over my legs at a junior high track meet, I realized that this is the very lesson the Lord has been teaching me for the last eighteen months. How to run my own race, even when I'm not hearing my name announced over the loud speaker or earning blue ribbons. And even more, how to run the same race... when I am receiving those things. 

A few years ago, with a heart bursting full of words and encouragement and love of a Savior, I started this blog. I wrote the words He placed on my heart with abandon and joy, and I was simply amazed anytime someone would comment or click or share. I never expected to be a "big deal", I was just loving the race that He had me running and that it included something I loved so much. THIS. Writing. Sharing His truth and grace and love. Encouraging.

But somewhere along the race, I started looking to the right and to the left. I strained my eyes to look at the runners ahead of me, and glanced over my shoulder and those behind... and the comparison game began. I became obsessed with the numbers on the stat screen.  My heart wanted to walk in humility, I refused to self-promote beyond a single share on facebook, but I could feel the tightening of pride when others were more "successful" than I... and envy would make a strangle hold on my heart. I found my eyes darting toward the crowd and wondering how many of those eyes were on me, cheering for me... or were they all looking to the one finishing so far ahead? And then, when I heard my name... my heart would pound with the ecstasy of affirmation.

As I became jealous for the attention of others, Jesus became jealous for mine. And because He is a good God, faithful even when we are not, He stepped in and saved me from myself.

The writing stopped. The teaching paused. And a break began.

You guys, I am writing this from the most raw place that I can. I am raising my hand and saying "Hi, my name is Becky, and I am a recovering approval addict". I am admitting that I lived in a place of jealousy and fear. My eyes had strayed from Jesus, the author and perfecter of my faith. My mind was no longer fixed on the one that promises perfect peace.  I dared not dream big for myself, for fear of failure. What would people think if... I dared not dream for ME, because the dream she was walking in seemed to be working better.  I was a mess of contradictions... I wanted affirmation in the small things but was afraid to walk in the actual call on my life for fear it would look like pride.  I knew that in all things I was nothing without Him, I didn't want His glory for myself, just a little affirmation from man so I would know I was on the right track. As it seems to be with all things in me, that need for a little grew to to a need for a LOT. And I didn't even know it!

Over the last year and a half, He has been refocusing my attention. He has turned my eyes back to His and reminded me that only His affirmation matters. He has taught me that false humility is really pride, and that genuine humility only comes from hiding oneself deep in His heart. He has healed wounds I didn't even realize were there, and has offered me a whole, unblemished, unwounded heart.

He has loved me well. And gently. He has cheered me on from the stands as I ran... and failed. He has taught me to look to Him at that moment with a smile on my face and genuine joy in my heart and mouth the words "I tried!!!"  He has calmed my heart with the quiet whisper of "well done" when I doubted the step I had just taken. He has winked with a smile when that thing done in secret, stayed in secret. He has beamed when I cheered a teammate across the finish line, or held the starting block for her so that her footing would be sure as she takes off.

His plan had not changed... and for me it still included this... Writing. Encouraging. Sharing. But He had to push the pause button to teach me how to focus on Him and Him alone, so that I can be free. So that I can be free of the affirmation addiction I found myself spinning in. So that I can be free of need for approval of man. So that I can be free of fear of man. So that I can be free in Him, to say and do whatever He would call me to- as crazy as it sounds or seems or is. So that I can be free to cheer on others who are running faster than me. Achieving things in this world, and receiving the affirmation of others, and my heart can well up with genuine JOY and say "you go girl!"

Just as Tali hopped in my car that day, bragging about the super fast time her friend had run in the 100 meter.  I asked her as we pulled out of the parking lot how she felt the season went for her and the answer came with no hesitation, "really good... Mrs. Dillon told me that I have improved a lot this season" and she proceeded to rattle off times that demonstrated her personal improvement.

And there it is.

My daughter went into this track season knowing that she would probably be running at the back of the pack. And she was okay with that. Her goals were to stay in shape, and to improve on her personal times during the season. And she did. Because she kept her eyes on her own race, and didn't bother with comparing herself to her friends who were created to run. Had she started looking around played the comparison game, how long before discouragement set in? 

My friend, set your eyes on your own race. Trust the path that Jesus has you on. I promise you, it isn't going to look like my race, or her race, or his race... because He is a creative Creator and He has laid out a path unique to you. It doesn't matter if others hear the cheer of the crowd for something you wish you could have done as well... because your Father is still in the stands screaming like crazy because He knows... He knows what your time was yesterday and last week and three years ago... He knows how far you have come!! And so He has a giant foam finger with your name on it and He is chanting YOUR name with abandon. Keep your eye in your lane, and run the race set before you, and no matter how long it takes you to make your way around that track when you [finally] do, He will greet you at the finish line and with a hug whisper the sweetest of all words "well done..."

I am not saying that I have this approval thing all figured out. But He has been confirming again and again and again that this is where He wants me in this season. Writing. Sharing. Encouraging. He has calmed my heart with the promise that He loves me enough to strip away anything that becomes a distraction, even ministry. So I can put words to screen and offer them to you... all the while trusting HIM. He's letting me throw my hat back in this ring, and I'm going in knowing that I may be running around at the back of the pack... and that's okay. Because I hear my Daddy cheering from the stands, and that's all that matters.


For more on keeping your eyes on Jesus and breaking free of affirmation addiction:
Bob Sorge, It's Not Business, It's Peronal 
Jennifer Dukes Lee, Love Idol
In addition to God's personal voice speaking to me, these books were instrumental in awakening my heart to the truth of God's jealous love for me, and the empty promise man's affirmation holds.