More Dusky Hour Reflections…

In my last post (My Dusky Hour of the Soul), I discussed some passages from Tim Farrington’s A Hell of Mercy.

I’d like to share another here, a passage that really resonated with me in this time of wondering and waiting…

 What the dark night shows us, through the intensely resisted revelation of our spiritual bankruptcy, is that we have been in the game for the payoff… We’ve been hoping for peace of mind during our golden years, a solid foundation of spiritual capital, security, and a 9 percent return on bliss. But now the bottom has fallen out of the market. Our spiritual checks are bouncing. (p. 71)

Oh, how I relate!! I posted earlier (Bargaining with God (Who, Me?)) how aware I was of this very phenomenon in my life.      

But, now, I am even more conscious of the fact I’ve been “in the game for the payoff.”

I recall during my sophomore year of college, I suffered an emotional breakdown of sorts and entered the campus infirmary (I had an infection and fever as well).  The infirmary staff kept me there until they knew I was on the rebound, both physically and mentally.

Anyway, upon leaving the infirmary, I headed over to the dorm room of one of the spiritual leaders on campus to seek counsel. I will never forget her words upon my sharing the recent struggles:

“God has a wonderful plan for your life” (or something to that effect, though I doubt she quote Law 1 of the 4 Laws to me). 

In any case, I believed it. Those words (and the subsequent friendship with this woman) encouraged me more than you can imagine. I needed to know someone had a plan for me.  I needed to know someone liked me, too.

It’s only recently that I’ve seen that I am angry at God for not giving me the wonderful life I thought He had planned (I suspect we had different plans in mind all along).

Though I talk a lot about the benefits of suffering (again, in terms of repenting and growing closer to God), at some level, I expected God to deliver on that wonderful plan with something tangible, not just something spiritual (and even that seems to have been lacking lately).

I’m embarrassed to tell you what I now realize I thought that good life entailed, but it did NOT include four years of an unemployed and unhealthy husband, exceedingly (for me) difficult job and church situations, and a loss of the type of community which has made me feel loved most of my Christian life. And it did include some sort of “spiritual payoff.”

I don’t think I saw God as a cosmic Santa Claus or Vending Machine, here to serve me if I inserted the correct spiritual coinage. It was/is more subtle than that.

Rather, I saw Him as my loving Father who intended to take care of His child, to ensure that His child had a good life. 

Any of you parents know how self-centered kids can be are… Well, I realize that in a real way, in my relationship with God, I was very much like a child, very egocentric.

It sort of makes me sick. 

Maybe it’s time to grow up.

More reflections to come…

My Dusky Hour of the Soul

 My husband recently listened to St. John of the Cross’ Dark Night of the Soul on his iPod.

After hearing the description of this phase of spiritual growth, I’m not sure I can claim to be passing through the Dark Night. But what about the Dusky Hour?

Since I lost my job, I’ve not posted for two reasons:

1. I’ve been pretty much consumed with rebuilding our kitchen (which you faithful readers will recall was taken out by an overflowing toilet… see: How Bad Can it Get?? Apparently Worse…  ).
2. My doubts have returned. My confidence in God has waxed and waned over the past two months. It’s been disconcerting, to say the least.

I do wonder if this dark passage is part of God’s way of answering my prayer that He would help me repent of anything that prevented greater intimacy with Jesus (see Compelled by Love ).

Anyway, I told a friend I was in this dark passage and she sent me A Hell of  Mercy by Tim Farrington which discusses its author’s trip down Dark Night lane and back.

There were some passages in the book that were just spot-on about how I feel right now. Such as:

You will be graced by the disaster your soul requires to find its way home. (p. 79)

A wise friend of mine once said that God gives us the exact curriculum we each need for our spiritual growth. To me, these two statements say that God knows exactly the disaster – the life loss – each of us requires in order to find Him in a deeper way; He knows what idols to remove so that we turn from them to Him.

Here’s another:

One way or another, life will bring us to the point of feeling we have nothing left to lose, in spite of our best efforts to avoid it. But the miracle of this thing we call death is that it is only in our seemingly final defeat, only through suffering the annihilation of everything we know and think ourselves to be, that we find ourselves capable at last of knowing God’s real mercy. (p. 90).

I’m not there yet, but I sure do look forward to more deeply knowing God’s “real mercy,”  the mercy of the cross.

Just not too crazy about this dusky hour.

More observations coming in future posts…

God Loves You…

Yesterday, a friend emailed me the following ”failed gospel tract:”

Ain’t it the truth?!

It all depends on how you define “wonderful plan,” doesn’t it?

Compelled by Love

… Still recovering from my 15-month ordeal (see the last post, below). Who knew I could sleep so much?

Now, on to a more spiritual topic.

I wrote a while ago about the sense that Jesus is calling me to greater intimacy, a call, I realize, that at some level I am afraid to follow.

I think one aspect of sin’s root is that God offers his love and we reject it, convinced (perhaps by our own experience?) that He will not love us well and that we must take matters into our own hands. Therefore, we seek love in all the wrong places.

It’s not that I must find Him, but that I must respond to His knocking at my heart in a way I never have.

I am always moved when I recall the passage in Blue Like Jazz about a friend of author Donald Miller who interviewed Bill Bright [Founder of Campus Crusade for Christ]:

… as a final question he asked Dr. Bright what Jesus meant to him. Alan said Dr. Bright could not answer the question. He said Dr. Bright just started to cry. He sat there in his big chair behind his big desk and wept.

When Alan told me that story I wondered what it was like to love Jesus that way. I wondered, quite honestly, if that Bill Bright guy was just nuts or if he really knew Jesus in a personal way, so well that he would cry at the very mention of His name. I knew then that I would like to know Jesus like that, with my heart, not just my head. I felt like that would be the key to something.

I do, too.

I always thought Bill Bright had some amazing relationship with Jesus that simply drove him to forget himself and share the gospel.

I would like to have that, though it scares me a bit.

It reminds me of what the Apostle Paul said:

… Christ’s love compels us, because we are convinced that one died for all, and therefore all died. And he died for all, that those who live should no longer live for themselves but for him who died for them and was raised again. 2 Corinthians 5:14-15

Frankly, when I look back on why I’ve done ministry in the past, sure, obviously I am compelled by the love of Christ, but I am painfully aware of all the other motives stirring within and along side of that one, dross such as:

• longing for the sense of excitement and power that come from seeing God work (through me!),
• feeling like I am somebody special because God chose to use me
• finding identity in being part of a community that’s working alongside of me

Who, me? I’ll stop there. No need to bore you with any more facts…

Today, I told my husband (a pastor between callings) that if both of us really knew Christ the way Bill Bright did, we wouldn’t care what job we had.  Because Jesus would be enough.

And we’d do ministry no matter what the pay or recognition or result. We’d want so much to honor Jesus. We’d be compelled by our love for Him.

My husband told me I could stop talking.

Just a wee bit too convicting, apparently.

Dear Lord: I want to know and love you like Bill Bright did (and now does, for eternity), but I think I am afraid of it, too. I don’t even know how to proceed. But you know. Please do your thing in my heart. Amen.

My 15-Month Ordeal Ended Today

Yep. I got my wish. I was fired. Er, “laid off.”

I cried all the way home.

And guess what? No severance. And just two weeks more to work.

I’m not surprised.

Well, a bit surprised at the timing. I thought I’d have a bit more time to look for a job. I’ve looked outside of the area (hoping we could move), but not here. And after the toilet flood wrecked our house (see How Bad Can it Get…). I was too preoccupied to look. Though I am thinking I need to find another job right where we are, even if dear husband can’t find a job here. And I’m angry that the idiot who fired me feels totally justified and blames me completely, while he has a job and we are not only without income soon, but have a mess of work on the house before us. Oh, and he did this while my husband and kids were away for Spring Break…

My mind’s a whirl. Can you tell?

So I went and played Battleship on the Wii. And won. Yea.

Still…

Life sucks. And then you die.

That’s a paraphrase of John Calvin who essentially said the same thing in his Golden Booklet of the True Christian Life:

… we should at once come to the conclusion that nothing in this world can be sought, or expected, but strife, and that we must raise our eyes to heaven to see a crown.

I’ve heard people talk about all the crowns we’ll get in heaven.

But, frankly, I think there’s only one crown – and that’s to be with Jesus.

That’s the Holiday at Sea.

You know, there have been times this last year where I thought (and wrote here), “I really don’t care if I know God more deeply through all this ick. I just want pain relief.”

Do you think I was mad at God?! LOL

But, now, I really do want that intimacy with Jesus that I both need and am afraid of (see my last post:  Ten Ideas Changing the World Right Now  – the last part).

Even if it requires more pain.

Someone said in response to my sharing this event: “God’s got something better in mind. You’ll get a great job. You’re so talented. Blah Blah.” 

Well, God’s better may be another horrible job or no job at all for some time. With this economy, neither of us working, and with our now meagre savings tied up in horribly depressed stock, we may be in for a very frustrating, scary future

But, thankfully, I have some peace. I really do want Jesus more and maybe this is the only way I will get Him (and maybe a better attitude towards my nemesis…).

Life sucks. And then you die.

The good news is: you die to self, too.

For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it; but whoever loses his life for My sake will find it.  Matthew 16: 25

By the way, check out John Piper’s sermon on the recession here: What is the Recession For?  It gives some perspective about suffering. Good words to have heard right before this morning’s event.

Stay tuned…

Dear Lord: Thanks that I soon will be out of that horribly toxic situation. Thanks for the peace I now feel. Help me to draw close to you. And if possible, can I get a really great job? Amen

Ten Ideas Changing the World Right Now

Greetings! Read on to hear about one of those ten ideas. But, before you do…

For those wondering where I went (how egocentric to think you wondered!), check out the last post: How Bad Can it Be?  We’ve been oh-so-busy thinking, planning, seeing contractors, going to kitchen stores, picking out floors, cabinets, etc.

We actually have a tile floor in our bathroom now with a new super-flush toilet. But the kitchen is still a disaster area, more so now that my husband started to tear down the soffit so we can get new higher kitchen cabinets (why fix only the floor and ceiling when you can go the whole way??).

And we had a marvelous visit by a missionary last week, staying with us during our church’s missionary conference. We needed to be encouraged by hearing his stories of how - through the Jesus Film and the International School Project – God is changing lives in amazing ways.

Ok, so today I got my TIME magazine. I’ve been reading it since I was a kid and have had a subscription for 32 years. Seriously.

The title of this Annual Special Issue: Ten Ideas Changing the World Right Now.

As I skimmed across the articles that discussed these ten ideas, I came upon this one: The New Calvinism.

Shock!

Hey, after 30 years, I’m a new Calvinist!

I went upstairs to get my glasses to read the article better (not-so-new eyes…).

Among other things, the article  mentioned John Piper who’s books have had a major impact on my life.

I’m glad to know that TIME thinks that a high view of God is changing the world.

That leads me to another topic.

A while back, I met with a friend of mine, a Christian psychologist who I knew wouldn’t give me a litany of things to do to fix my situation (horrible job, few jobs out there, out-of-work husband, not to mention the sprained ankle, damaged roof and destroyed kitchen!), but who would instead help me discover what God was up to in my life through the pain and frustration.

Net, net:

He (and I) observed that while I am very cognizant of, amazed at, comforted by, and worship the transcendent, sovereign, wise, mysterious,  immutable, omniscient, omnipresent, omnipowerful God…

I am not so intimate with the man who went to the cross.

In fact, I may have a block in me that fears deep intimacy with that man, or any other man, for that matter.

Moreover, I may have a block that keeps me from becoming all a woman of God is called to be. It’s easier for me to be a tomboy Christian, I do believe. I’d rather be the initiator than the recipient. Waiting on someone else scares me.

It really doesn’t matter why I am that way (though we explored the source of my fear a bit).

And I really can’t fake it, try and be more intimate with God, try and put on some version of femininity (and let me state categorically that what the evangelical church often seems to define as male and female seem to me to be extreme, unBiblical caricatures –  see instead Deborah, Priscilla, and the women who supported the disciples out of their own means, for example…)

Excuse the digression.

Anyway, this requires a pretty deep change in me.

This requires repentance.

That’s a good Calvinist word, don’t you think? Repentance.

I’ve got to repent of some deep-seated, currently unknown to me, sin that prevents me in some way from drawing close to Jesus, drawing close to my husband, and becoming the female God created me to be.

It’s a stronghold, a wall only God can tear down.

So I’ve been praying that He bring me to repentance. And I wait.

After sharing much of this discussion with my husband, he later volunteered that he wondered if  maybe one day we will become poster children for having respectively embraced our masculinity and femininity in Christ and discovered a new intimacy with Jesus and with each other.

Wow. That’s a nice vision to hold on to.

Especially in times like these.

Dear Lord:  Thank you for the new Calvinism (whatever). And thank you for my friend’s insights, as he would say, given by You. Change me, please. Especially help me find that intimacy with you that I think I really need right now…and forever. Amen.

How Bad Can it Get?? Apparently Worse…

Ok, I notice my stats are down, so it’s time for another post.

Here’s the background to this particular post:

Hate my job. Husband out of work several years. Both of us looking for jobs. Neither of us finding anything. Economy sucks. No jobs out there. Feeling trapped. Etc., etc. So, we don’t need any more trouble…

I did have a wonderful work trip to Colorado (with a colleague I really enjoy… a welcome break from the office).

Then more trouble started (but there is some light at the end…).

There was ice. Not much ice. Too much ice for where I now live. Folks here not used to ice. Enough ice to close the schools.

But nothing a former Northerner can’t handle.

Til I let the dogs out and for some reason walked out on the deck to usher them back in.

I never walk out on the deck to usher the dogs back in.  By the way, the deck was covered with ice.

As I entered the doorway and took the handle to close the door (which opens outward), I found myself swinging from the handle. My head then bapped the door frame. Hard.

And as I tried to right myself, I sensed felt was tortured by… my ankle twisting, turning, bending, burning.

I screamed. My husband helped me to bed as I writhed in agony – this was seriously the third worst pain I had ever felt (you can guess the first, ladies).

It got better, but I am still walking with a limp and this brace thing my doctor told me to get.  I asked a physical therapist friend why this particular sprained ankle hurt worse than any twist I’d previously endured.

Age, she replied.

Sigh.

So, at some ungodly and dark hour this morning (after stupid dog walked on me and woke me up), I limped to the sal de bain, then went back to bed. Forty five minutes later, I awoke to my husband’s horrific scream.

Jumping from the bed, I pulled out the earplugs, ran to the bathroom, and beheld my husband standing in 1.235 inches of water.

The toilet had overflowed and continued to run and run and run…

Across the bathroom.

Into our bedroom.

Through the floor and ceiling below.

Into the kitchen.

And, yes, into my utensil drawer.

Amazingly our insurance agent called this AM (after we had gone through 7 blankets to soak up the water) to ask about our roof (did I mention the windstorm last week that blew off a piece of siding and 20 or so shingles?).

I told her we had another problem to discuss as well, then turned the phone over to my husband.

Having done all I could, I left for another torture session at work.

Apparently the agent got right to work during my absence.

My husband ominously told me a couple times on the phone that I’d never believe what was happening.

Well, the agent sent over some folks who proceeded to take down our kitchen ceiling, rip up the kitchen and bathroom floors, tear out our bedroom carpet and install 7 or 8 fan type things that are currently blowing in order to take out the moisture.

Tonight, I’m sleeping in the guest room and my husband, in the basement.

Inexplicably, we find ourselves almost laughing about this “incident.” 

For months, we wondered how much work to do on our kitchen.  We needed to do some repairs, but how much aesthetic work should we do? What if we needed to do a lot to sell the house if we moved for a job?  Of was a little enough?  If we ended up staying put, I’d want to fix it up a lot.  Where would the money come with stocks at a 10 year low? Plus, in the back of my mind, I wanted new carpet upstairs, but why bother, if we were going to move? AUGH.

We’re pretty sure now what we need to do in the kitchen… and we’ll get new carpeting, too.

For the first time in months, I sense God guiding us. 

Through an overflowing toilet.

Dear Lord: Yesterday I felt like Job. Today I have a bit of hope. Thanks! Amen.

My Daughter Calls Me “Dude”

There is a very bright and wonderful part of my life that doesn’t often make it to these posts. It’s those girls you see above.

The older one has taken to calling me “dude.”  When I suggest this is no name for a mother, she replies that she’s gotten so used to addressing her friends with the moniker that she can’t help herself.

I console myself that at least she mixes me up with her friends and that I’m not such a stuffy mom that I need to stop her.

So, Dude I am.

The other day, I went to fetch one of the girls to practice her musical instrument.

The door to the room they share was closed, but I could hear Miley Cyrus’ warble leaking out the cracks. I opened the door slightly to see my daughters engaged in some sort of dance, back to me, strange hats arranged on each of their heads.

I ran to get the video camera.

Once I entered the room and they saw what I was up to, the choreography devolved into the younger run running up and back to the camera, filling the video screen with her wildly grinning face, slapping at the camera lens, then running back to her sister to bap her on the rear.

The older one continued to “dance,” mixing her moves up with the occasional half cartwheel and full-frontal fall to the floor. And she lip-synched. To Miley, and then to the Jonas Brothers.

The best part of the evening was when we replayed this scene on my PC (after a year, I finally figured out how to download my videos to the PC). The girls gathered around the screen to watch themselves, hysterically laughing at their antics.

What better entertainment than to watch yourself on TV?

Wow. If only I could get paid hanging out with my girls (when I’m not getting paid reading novels, writing my blog, or any number of spare time activities…), I’d quit that job in a nanosecond. 

Or whatever fraction of a second is smaller.

Dear Lord: Thanks for my girls. Forgive me for allowing other circumstances to swallow up my gratefulness with angst. Amen.

Advice on Advice

The other night I shared my pain with a group of friends.  It wasn’t the night I hit the wall, but the same issues led me to a pit the day this group met. I was severely low when I shared.

So, what do you think I got in response to my pain?

Advice.

Yep, advice and a lecture about how we all suffer. Blah blah blah blah blah.

And when I didn’t respond, the discussion turned away from me to a safer non-emotional discussion.  Phew.

Why is it that when a friend shares his or her pain, we (especially we women) feel compelled to give advice? And men, do you feel like running away?

Perhaps we do so because we think somehow it’s our responsibility to free our friend from pain, whether our friends ask for it or not.  Our two responses? 

Fix or Flee. 

Advise or Retreat.

 

 

Either “Since I am obligated to fix you, here’s the first thing that comes to mind. Because I don’t know anything else to say, I am giving all I have.”

Or  ”I am so overwhelmed by your pain that I am totally incapable of helping you, so I think I will just run away.” (often accomplished by turning the conversation to lighter fare)

Here’s my question: who EVER said you were obligated to fix me?

Isn’t that God’s job?

He can do it, but you can’t. So don’t even try.

If I want your advice, then I’ll ask for it (and I didn’t the other night).

 

By the way, how does unrequested advice strike you when you’re the recpient? Do you sometimes feel demeaned as in “You obviously are too unspiritual or demented to know this, so I must tell you” or “I’m just so mature, you need to hear what I have to say.” (Ask Job how he felt…)

What I want when I am hurting in my pain is to be heard, to feel that I’m not the only one who has ever been where I am at. I want you to ask me questions out of loving curiosity to know me more deeply, to go beneath the surface, maybe to lead me to the spiritual lies beneath the pain.

Not because you purposely set out to do so, not because you have any idea what to do, but because, by your mere desire to know me better, you may uncover something that God can work with: some issue in my life He needs to deal with, some deep-seated puss-filled lie He wants to lance.

I can’t go there on my own. But you can help me.

NOT by giving advice, but by asking me some questions. Not questions that are advice in disguise (like these: “Are you reading your Bible? Do you thank God for your situation?” no, it  never crossed my mind to do so… puhleeze), but questions that arise from your love for me, your desire to know my inner self, and your reliance on God.

He’s the fixer. You’re not.

Obviously there are times when advice is warranted  —  when someone asks for it (although there is merit in not addressing the immediate pain in order to reach deeper issues) or when there’s a crisis which must be addressed immediately (as in telling someone how to get out of an airplane after it ditches in the Hudson).

And one more point, just to show how self-centered I am. Had I been in a different place the other night, the advice I got from one person should have been cause for my rejoicing. My friend was, in fact, simply sharing the advice she had just learned to give herself. Had I been able to take my focus off myself, I might have realized that her advice was evidence of  spiritual growth, that she was sharing some incredible lessons that she didn’t grasp herself months ago.

But, I was in pain, and in no mood for advice.

So, my advice on advice?

Don’t give it.

Dear Lord: Help me to take my own advice. Amen.

Suffering Alongside of Me

I hit the wall last week. I had a meltdown. Stresses and unresolved (maybe never resolved?) issues and fear of the future immobilized me. I wrote about it in last week’s post: I Hit the Wall Tonight.

I ended up having conversations with two friends and a counselor the day after that helped greatly. (I also got two very encouraging notes via Facebook … you know who you are!  Thanks!)

One of these friends (a pastor turned attorney) shared something with me that just sticks.

He reminded me that Jesus shares in my suffering.

I’d forgotten.

It’s easy for me to remember that God is transcendent, that he arranged these circumstances and that they are for my good. 

That transforms my mind.

But it’s another thing to remember that He’s also immanent, that He walks alongside of me and suffers as I suffer.

That touches my heart.

Of course, I had to turn this thought over in my mind. I mean, Jesus isn’t technically suffering today, sitting as He does at the right hand of God the Father, but He has suffered for me, not just in a general way, but because of my sin. 

And there’s no pain I suffer that compares with the pain He suffered for me. He gets it. He gets pain and rejection. He gets disappointment and fear.  He gets suffering. 

In any case, I realize that as I feel pain, He isn’t just standing by waiting for me to learn whatever it is He wants me to learn. He is intimately involved. He cares. He is right beside me, not far away. He wants to carry the load with me. He already carried biggest load for me.

We share a yoke.

I forget.

Last week, I found some scripture about Jesus and my suffering that helped, too (italics mine):

…He was pierced for [my] transgressions,
he was crushed for [my] iniquities; 
the punishment that brought [me] peace was upon him,
and by his wounds [I was] healed. Isaiah 53:5

I also count all things loss for the excellence of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord, for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them as rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in Him… that I may know Him and the power of His resurrection, and the fellowship of His sufferings…” Philippians 3:8-11

For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are [and who has suffered in ways we can't begin to imagine] —yet was without sin. Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need. Hebrews 4: 15-16

The Spirit Himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God… if indeed we suffer with Him, that we may also be glorified together. For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us.” Romans 8:15-18

I tell you, it really moved me to think that Jesus was right there with me the night I hit the wall.

I need to keep thinking about that.

Dear Lord: I felt like a lost and frightened little child last week. You understood my pain. You heard my cries. You sent friends (by Internet and phone) to encourage me. Help me to relax in your care. Help me to love as you love me. Help me to stop thinking about what will remove the pain only, but to think about Your glory.  And to know that in all you are bringing into our lives, in all you are not taking out of our lives (including sin), You are making sure your glory and our good are at the top of the agenda. You suffered to make sure that would be the case. Thanks. And, if you wouldn’t mind removing the pain, that would be helpful, too. Amen.

I Hit the Wall Tonight

I won’t tell you why.  I mean, even an anonymous blog has a limit to how many gory details it’s prudent to share.

But I’ll say this much: I rarely,  if ever,  get to the point where I say “Jesus, I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do. Help me.”

Something tells me that’s a good prayer to pray. Duh.

Maybe He’s brought these circumstances into my life just so I’ll  pray that prayer. Double duh.

My guess is He does know what to do.

I hope He lets me in on the secret soon.

Lord: Give me your guidance, your wisdom, your love, and your peace. Amen

Son of Hamas Meets Son of God

A friend told me about a pretty amazing story yesterday: the son of a Hamas leader has converted to Christianity, renouncing his past.

Here’s a link to an interview with this young man: http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,402483,00.html

I’d read the story instead of watching the very short videos.

Bargaining with God (Who, Me?)

I never thought I was the kind of person who would get mad at God when things got tough, who would think she deserved better. 

But, here I am.

Two guys who’ve influenced me greatly say the following about this subject:

If, like the elder brother [in the parable of the 'prodigal son'], you seek to control God through your obedience, then all your morality is just a way to use God to make him give you the things in life you really want. …I knew a woman who had worked for many years in Christian ministry. When chronic illness overtook her middle age, it threw her into despair. Eventually she realized that deep in her heart she had felt that God owed her a better life, after all she had done for him. That assumption made it extremely difficult for her to climb out of her pit, though climb she did. The key to her improvement, however, was to recognize the elder-brother mind-set within.”  Tim Keller, pp. 38, 42 in The Prodigal God.

Let me propose a radical thought: Maybe we have it all wrong! Maybe the Christian life is not about ‘doing right’ to ‘get blessed.’ Maybe the Christian life is not about the blessings of life we so badly want and doggedly pursue. Maybe our obedience and faithfulness are to be energized by a very different motive than receiving the good and legitimate blessines we long to experience in this life.”  Larry Crabb, pp. 25-26 in The Pressure’s Off.

Sure, I obey God the best I can, but I don’t think that’s what makes me think He owes me.

• It’s that I try to be “real” and “transparent.”
• It’s  my commitment to His Word and to not diminish His Glory through bad theology.
• It’s that I want to repent whenever necessary in order to know Jesus better, no matter the cost.

Yep, He owes me.

Sometimes I think the opposite. After seeing so many others’ lives going well compared to mine, I think “Gee, God, am I such a loser that this is all I deserve?” That idea really scares me: I’ve spent my life striving not to be a loser.

After more than a decade of crappy stuff (some of which I’ve discussed elsewhere in this blog), I start to think that the pain will never leave: that this is my life and I’d better get used to it. I get cynical. I stop caring that God has my best interest in mind. Hey, if this is His “good” for me, no thanks.

I get to the point where, at times,  I want pain relief more than I want Jesus (so much for that desire to repent!).

Forget the Holiday at Sea, just give me some mud to play with… NOW!

The good news is that I think I recognize my elder-brother mentality, my bargaining with God. Maybe I have hope.

The Cross brought me back from my doubts and it may help me here.

• The Cross tells me I am so evil that I deserve far worse than crappy circumstances – it took Jesus’s death and separation from the Father to deal with my sin. 
• The Cross tells me that me that I am not a loser: Jesus loved me enough to die for me.
• The Cross tells me that my crappy circumstances really are good gifts, borne by the same love that sent God’s Son to the Cross. (see Romans 8: 32)

I believe this stuff in my head, but not always in the part of my heart where I still bargain with God.

Oh, Lord: Help me to more deeply believe the truths of the Cross. Help me to truly thank you for ALL of my life’s circumstances (and to be more aware of the really wonderful things than of the icky ones). Help me to worship You as the Apostle Paul did:

Oh the depths of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable His judgments and His ways beyond tracing out! Who has known the mind of the Lord? Or who has been His counselor? Who has ever given to God that God should repay him? For from Him and through Him and to Him are all things. To Him be the glory forever. ” Romans 11: 33ff

Amen.

Checking Up on My 2008 Resolutions

A year ago, I set forth a summary of my New Year’s resoutions on the predecessor to this blog.

So, let’s see how we did. Here are the three overarching resolutions I made. I said that “I want to…

1) spend more regular time reading the Bible,

2) [spend] more time writing in my journal (my most effective way to pray when alone), and

3) make a concerted and disciplined effort to better serve my family.”

So, you ask, how did I do?

On number 1, I started out well, slid way back (during my doubting phase), then picked up steam and am almost finished year 1 of my 2-year through-the-Bible reading program.  (I’d highly recommend it. I used D. A. Carson’s For the Love of God which has a daily reflection on one of the two passages I’d read each day. It takes you through the OT once and the NT twice over two years. See http://www.amazon.com/Love-God-Companion-Discovering-Riches/dp/1581340087.)

I got serious about the Bible reading when I realized at the end of my bad patch that it was about all I knew to do.  Where was I to go? For He has the Words of eternal life… My 10-year old joined me in AM devotions this fall and has just finished reading the entire New Testament!

Number 2 was a total bust. Although I came to regard my blogging as a sort of journal.

Number 3 was likewise more or less a failure. I actually spent much of 2008 simply trying to survive emotionally and spiritually.  Not much left over for the family, though it’s amazing how one pulls oneself together to take care of the kids (though not the husband, necessarily). It’s a grace, too, that children are resilient, so they say.

And it isn’t over yet. Between my worst ever job situation and my husband’s lack of job (and, yes, all four recent prospects fell through as of yesterday), and various other random stresses, I found myself in a very miserable place.

Still trying to figure out how to walk this path. I suppose that will be the focus of 2009’s blog posts.

And maybe I’ll have the guts to post this year’s resolutions.

Or maybe not.

Meantime, have a Happy New Year!

The Contradiction of Christmas

Isn’t it amazing that so many people celebrate the birth of Jesus, yet reject Jesus himself? How weird is that? Even those who  accept Jesus might unwittingly reject the Jesus of the Bible:

·      The Jesus of the Bible was born in a stable, not a 6 BR house with 3.5 baths

·      The Jesus of the Bible rode to his last supper on a donkey, not in a stretch SUV limo.

·      The Jesus of the Bible had no beauty that we should look upon Him, not an Extreme Makeover. 

·      The Jesus of the Bible hung out with the publicans and sinners in a bar, not with the religiously right nor the politically correct in a ballroom.

·      The Jesus of the Bible said “get behind me, Satan” to one of his best friends, not “Smile. Jesus loves you.”

·      The Jesus of the Bible said “My burden is easy and my yoke is light; Take my yoke upon you,” not “You’d better be good; I’m telling you why.”

·      The Jesus of the Bible said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father, but by me,” not “there are many paths to god.”

·      The Jesus of the Bible — for the joy set before Him — endured the cross, suffered the shame, and now sits at the right hand of God the Father.   He is the Word that was with God in the beginning.  He is the Word that is God. In Him and through Him and for Him, all things were made.

What a travesty that you and I should take Him so lightly during the season. What treason.

Oh, Lord, in love you helped the adultress to her feet – after you sent away those who would stone her.  Then you said “Your sins are forgiven. Go and sin no more.”  Please do the same for me.  I commit treason when I take my pain so heavily and your love so lightly.  Help me to sin no more, too.  Amen

[Previously posted a year ago when this was a fledging blog. Reposted with minor edits.]