Casandra Martin

She had tears in her eyes. The last few months have been difficult ones. Changes within the inevitable ebb and flow of life have left her struggling and feeling alone. In the middle of a crowded room, she held my hands and poured out the ache of loneliness that seems to be swallowing her heart. People swirled around us, not recognizing the hungering need for friendship reflected in her eyes.

Loneliness hurts. It makes our hearts squeeze small, and amplifies the echo in our souls. Loneliness has the power to twist our perspective, rub against our joy, and rob us of our confidence. We all struggle with it. Every person you meet today has been touched by it. Some have deep scars. Others are wrestling in its grip right now. Each of us knows its pain.

Satan tries to tell us that we are alone in our aloneness. He says that our loneliness is a fault, a character flaw, a result of our unworthiness, and something about which we should be ashamed. If we were – prettier, smarter, thinner, wealthier, funnier, more educated, more successful, less successful, holier, wiser – something other than who we are, we wouldn’t be lonely. But remember who is talking. (John 8:44)

God said that it is not good for man to be alone. Loneliness is not a mark of shame, but a signpost of the intent of our Maker. We have been created in His image, and that image reflects the truth that our God is a God of community and connection. One of the most foundational promises that He gives us is His assurance that He “will never leave you or forsake you.” (Hebrews 13:5) A great cloud of witnesses also surrounds us, reminding us that we are not alone in the battle against loneliness. Elijah tried to throw in the towel because of it. David cried out in painful song because of it. Jesus struggled in the garden because of it.

My Jesus Resolution today is to ask God to open my eyes to loneliness – my own and someone else’s. My tendency is to wall off my loneliness and hide behind a façade of having-it-all-together. Instead, I am going to ask God to inhabit my loneliness, making me more aware of His presence, and helping me see past the boundaries I set up to protect my heart. I want to recognize the familiar ache in someone else’s eyes and respond with gentleness. Loneliness is real, but it doesn’t have to define our reality. God is here. So am I.

“You yourselves like living stones are being built up as a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ.” – 1 Peter 2:5

We live in a world that seems to thrive on change. Whatever is new makes the headlines. Whatever is the latest is pronounced the greatest. Bigger, newer, faster, and shinier grabs our attention and invites us into a dizzying world without anchors or foundation.

While some things may work best guided by innovation and invention, our souls were meant for the permanence of His presence. Peter uses an amazing picture to describe what Christ wants to build in our lives. He calls us Living Stones. Connected to the Cornerstone of the cross, we are being built together to rise as a spiritual house for His name. Slowly and surely, He is transforming us for His glory.

The world, however, constantly tugs at us to choose slick over solid, fashionable over faithful, and convenience over commitment. Every day, we have to choose whether to move according to the rhythm of His grace or to follow the beat of the world’s drums.

Growing a Living Stone kind of faith doesn’t happen by accident. We don’t stumble into spiritual growth by chance. This kind of rock-solid faith is built when we make deliberate moves toward Christlikeness. Transformation begins with allowing God to reset our priorities, realign our attitudes, and restore our sense of wonder. He promises to teach us how to live with Living Stone faith in a world that has decided that a veneer of godliness is good enough.

My Jesus Resolution today is to sit on a rock. I want to see myself in its shape and understand how God wants to form my faith. I am not meant to live a spun-around, disoriented, dizzied, unsettled kind of life. God gives me peace that is grounded in the certainty of His nearness, joy anchored in the surety of His faithfulness, and hope fixed in the power of His unfailing love.

I am excited to tell you that my newest Women Opening the Word Bible study is now available. Living Stones encourages us to dive deeply into the spiritual practices that build vibrant, rock-solid faith. Explore what it means to be a Living Stone and how God wants to fill you with Himself. Check out the WOW Books section of my website – http://casandramartin.com – for more information!

More lessons from camp. Another dirty foot. More tears rolling down sun-kissed cheeks. This time the culprit was a splinter. The thin fragment of wood jabbed its way into her foot, disrupting more than her skip. It punctured her smile and deflated her happy spirit.

I cleaned off her foot and sat down to take a good look. It was a dandy of a splinter. I got out the tweezers and told her what I was going to need to do to remove it. Her eyes asked a thousand questions as the possibilities unfolded themselves in her mind. The splinter hurt, but would removing it hurt more? Was it worth it? Could we just leave it alone? Maybe it wasn’t so bad.

Her face reflected the one I too often see in the mirror. I have splinters all the time. Pieces of pride, slivers of selfishness, and splinters of sin embed themselves in my heart. They hurt, wounding my peace, disrupting my joy, causing me to limp into the presence of Jesus. He looks at what pierces my soul and tells me what needs to be done to make me whole again. And my eyes ask the same questions as the young girl with her foot in my lap. I weigh the familiar pain against the transformation He offers.

I tell the girl that we need to get the splinter out. Left in her foot, it will fester and become infected. A couple of minutes of discomfort now will send her on her way to being able to run, jump, and play. If we don’t take care of it today, things will be harder tomorrow.

She slowly nods okay. We tell stories and talk about our favorite things. Before she knows it, the splinter is laying in my hand. She picks it up and marvels at its size. The pain is forgotten. The fear left far behind. Courage produces confidence, and trust unfolds into transformation.

My Jesus Resolution today is to be brave about facing my splinters. They need to come out. Pretending they aren’t really there leaves festering sores in my soul. They need His touch and the cleansing power of His blood. Sometimes I am afraid of what transformation will require, but doing nothing will leave me wounded and unable to walk where He wants to lead me. So today I am going to take a deep breath, nod okay, and let Him work on my heart.

It was a small scrape, but you wouldn’t know it from the big tears running down her cheeks. She held tightly to her counselor’s hand as she walked into where I was working at camp. Through muffled sobs, she explained how she had been playing and ran through a rough spot in her flip-flops. Her foot hurt. Would I take a look?

Sitting her in a chair, I lifted her foot into my lap. I couldn’t see the scrape because her feet were filthy. Dirt, sweat, grass, and sand were adhered to the bottom of her little feet. I was going to have to clean through the mess in order to see what was hurting.

I got some warm water and a wash cloth. I knelt down and gently started washing the grime from her feet. I had to scrub her heels where the dirt was ground into the skin. The cloth moved between her toes as the water became muddy. Drying her feet, I was humbled by the holiness that filled the moment.

Jesus did this. He washed the dirty feet of disciples who argued about greatness before the Son of God. He does this for me. He tenderly scrubs away the residue of my playing in the world. Holy hands holding dirty feet.

The most humbling aspect of this moment, however, came from watching the little girl. She came in frightened, nervous, and tearful. Washing her feet did more than clean the dirt off of her body. It changed her heart. She relaxed. Laughter and giggles replaced tears and frowns. She talked, opening her heart and trusting me with her story. Some warm water, a Band-Aid, and a hug later, she walked away confident, joyful, and at peace. Jesus does this for me too.

My Jesus Resolution today is to look at my toes and see Jesus’ hands. He doesn’t shy away from my mess or wrinkle His nose at the stink that sticks to my skin. He washes me clean, makes me new, heals what is hurting, and does so with love and tenderness. In the washing, I am changed. My feet and my heart are connected. That is the lesson I want to remember. It is the truth embedded in Jesus’ words in John 13:14. “If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet.”