Archive for the ‘intentional living’ Category
No Incomplete Sentences Pt. 2
Posted on: October 30, 2016
The first part of this article was posted just previous to the last one. (Since the publishing of that last one, an update on my crazy life, at the end of September, my daughter and I were hit by another car in an accident that totaled mine. I am slowly recovering. In the mornin’, in the evenin’, ain’t we got fun?)
In Part 1, I focused on the fact that when God observed, “It is not good that man should be alone. I will make a helper fit for him”, He did NOT say, “Adam is unfinished. I better make the rest of him.” Adam and Eve were each complete in God just as God made them. Singles need not – should not – ever be considered as or consider themselves to be somehow “less than” because of their not-married status.
However, it’s not just single folks who get confused about what makes a “whole” life.
Our modern romantic expectations of marriage are far beyond what was expected in the past. These days, we’re supposed to be each others’ “soul mate”. Some in the church have compounded the confusion by melding that pop concept with the Biblical description of the two that become “one flesh”. It’s quite an inaccurate reading of Scripture, since “one flesh” is not used only to describe marriage. In I Co. 6:16, Paul warns, “Or do you not know that he who is joined to a prostitute becomes one body with her? For, as it is written, ‘The two will become one flesh.’” No, “one flesh” doth not a “soul mate” make.
Looking for a spouse to be our “soul mate” is dangerous. Some of us have hearts that are easily misled – especially if we are too eager to find Mr./Miss Right. Even if we marry someone who is, to all first experience, such a match, if we start judging our spouse on whether he is fulfilling that role, and he fails, we fuel the fires of discontent and feel ourselves to be incomplete because he isn’t meeting our needs. If we judge our spouse on whether she is fulfilling that role, and she succeeds, we risk putting her in a position only God is meant to occupy. At the root of the “soul mate” concept is the fallacy that ANY person apart from God can complete us. When joined in the mystic union that is Christian marriage, something greater than the sum of its parts IS created – but that something will cease to exist the moment that “death do us part.” Husband and wife are not “partial” people who only become “whole” together, and then are sentenced to live only “half lives” once one spouse has died. Marriage has never been about completing us.
We are complete because GOD is the One Who completes us.
Parenthood has similar pitfalls. Just as those in a marriage may unintentionally put their spouse in a priority where s/he doesn’t belong, those of us with kids may do the same thing. If we have a great relationship with our kids, we may let that substitute for a relationship with our own Heavenly Father. We may so immerse themselves in the lives of our kids that when the kids grow up and leave, all the we can see in our lives is emptiness instead of opportunity. Our children may wound us, turn away from us, abandon us. There are couples who struggle with infertility to the point of becoming so obsessed with it that, like unhappy singles, they define themselves entirely by what they DON’T have.
Yet, although Scripture certainly speaks often of children as a blessing, it just as certainly never speaks of children as making us “whole” people or their absence making us “less than.” No matter what our relationship is with our children, no matter what our children’s choices may be, no matter whether we even have children, we are complete because GOD is the One Who completes us.
Married, single. Parent, childless. Any of these we may be called into or out of, but we must always recognize that our completion does not depend on which He calls us to, on whether He calls us to the role our heart desires, or on the outcome of that calling. For those in an unhappy marriage or divorced or left behind by death; for those who are single but yearn to be married; for those whose children have spurned them or those arms are empty and aching for a child; however incomplete we may feel, we ARE complete in Him. For those in a great marriage, for those close with their kids, however fulfilling those relationships, our completion is in HIM. Content in singleness or childlessness? Remember that “self” is never sufficient; we are complete ONLY in Him. His first calling to ALL is the same as it has always been: to follow Him and learn of Him and allow the Spirit to conform us to the image of the Son. He has promised us that He has given us, is giving us, and will continue to give us, everything we need for this to be so. “His divine power has granted to us all things that pertain to life and Godliness, through the knowledge of Him Who called us to His own glory and excellence, by which He has granted to us His precious and very great promises, so that through them you may become partakers of the Divine Nature, having escaped from the corruption that is in the world because of sinful desire.” 2 Peter 1:3-4
None of us are sentenced to a life of being incomplete. In Him, we ARE complete, always.
No incomplete sentence, Pt. 1
Posted on: May 2, 2016
Anyone who sees me much knows I love wearing bling, especially earrings. I have dozens, of all colors and shapes, made of both common and exotic materials, for every season, and for every style of dress from casual to glitzy. I hate it when I lose an earring. Since my piercings are in matched sets, a single earring does me no good. The worth of any single earring is tied to having the other.
Sadly, too many folks think of people that way– that our worth lies only in our relationship to having some other person in our life, that without that “other” we are, in fact, incomplete.
Society certainly tends to see it that way. Whether having a bevy of beaus or a harem, serial monogamy, a long-term relationship, or marriage, the pressure to be with somebody is enormous. Sadly, the church, in its desire to hold up the value of marriage, is often little better. Remarks addressed in sermons to the adults in the congregation often assume, or at least infer, that “we’re all married – or will be.” Most churches don’t know what to DO with their singles once those singles get much beyond college age. Many churches’ singles’ groups function like a dating service. If an adult is possessed of at least reasonable intelligence, moderate abilities, pleasant personality, and is considered to have relatively pleasing looks, yet stays single, s/he will often face the question, “How come a wonderful chick/guy like you isn’t married?” – as if the only reason God would even MAKE such a person is for s/he to be married! Singles who don’t meet those criteria? Well, if they don’t marry, they are simply objects of pity, stuck forever in a “less than” life.
But it’s a lie. A bald-faced, straight-up, direct-from-the-Father-of-Lies-himself lie.
Way back in the very beginning, not long after God created Adam, observing Adam’s lack of true companionship, God said, “It is not good that man should be alone”, and the result was the creation of Eve. For many people, that passage is interpreted as a statement about the pre-eminence of the marriage relationship as critical for the full human experience. But pay attention to what God did NOT say. He did not say, “Oops! I left part of Adam out. I better make the rest of him.” God didn’t create Adam with a piece missing. Adam was alone, but he was not incomplete. Eve was to be Adam’s helper, his Ebenezer, his companion, but she was NOT his “finishing touch.” Adam was a whole person just as God made him. Eve was “bone of [Adam’s] bone and flesh of [Adam’s] flesh”, but although the process of her creation differed from Adam’s in that she wasn’t made “from scratch”, so to speak, she, nevertheless, was created a whole person in her own right. Both male and female were required for reflecting the full image of God. Companionship is required to experience the fellowship that exists in the Godhead – but just because the first man and woman married doesn’t mean that companionship can ONLY mean marriage.
Although the patriarchs of the Old Testament were (obviously!) married, we do not know the marital status of all of the O.T. judges and prophets; of those for whom there is no mention of a wife or children, it is reasonable to assume that at least some were unmarried. We know Jeremiah remained single because he was, in fact, expressly forbidden by God to marry. (Jeremiah 16:1 vv) John the Baptist did not marry. Jesus Himself, of course, did not marry. Only the marital status of a few of the apostles or men and women active in the ministry of the early church is referenced; it is more than likely that some of them were unattached. The greatest evangelist and writer of the major portion of the canonical New Testament, the apostle Paul, was single – and adamantly so! How ludicrous to think of any of these as somehow living only half-lives because of they were not “conjugally matrimonified”, as it is put in Pirates of Penzance.
It is interesting that Paul, though single, is one of the most eloquent writers about the marriage relationship. His instructions on marriage given in Ephesians were a radical departure from the cultural attitude of the time. His assertion that marriage is to be a reflection of the relationship between Christ and the Church elevated marriage to a high new spiritual plane. Yet even so, Paul made very clear that there is not a higher value in being married than in being single. Indeed, throughout I Corinthians 7, Paul’s preference is decidedly slanted toward singleness. (Note that this prejudice is predicated on a belief in the imminent return of Christ, however.) His strongest point in favor of being single is that it enables one to be focused solely on serving the Lord. If you’re married, decisions are a two-party process; if you’re single, you have only the Lord to consult. If you’re married, there are schedules to coordinate; if you’re single, there’s only ONE calendar. Singles have a freedom of time, emotional energy, and resources that married couples do not – time, emotional energy, and resources which they may devote to the Lord and His work.
I am thankful to have in my own family several wonderful examples of singles living full lives, both women and men, never married, divorced, or parted from their marital partner by death, who I have never seen repine over their status as singles and who have embraced the freedom of singleness to engage in ministry, formal and informal, that would have been difficult or impossible were they married. Any reading of missionary stories will likewise yield a plethora of examples. For some of these, singleness has been a deliberate choice, made early in life. For others, although they would not have objected to marriage, the opportunity just never came up. For others, it was a struggle, as they would very much like to have married. As did Paul, all of these singles grasped the understanding that both singleness and marriage are simply roles we may be called to play, and their contentment in singleness involved a willingness to accept whichever role God would call them to play: if to marry, then to marry, but if to be single, then to BE single – not consider themselves as simply in a holding pattern until “real life” – marriage – began.
Whatever roles God calls us to, His purpose for us is always the same: to conformed to the image of His Son (Romans 8:28-29.) He has promised that He has, does, and will continue to give us everything we need for this to be so. Ephesians 1:3-14 is just one passage expounding on those promises. We have been blessed with every blessing in the heavenly places, chosen before the foundation of the world, predestined for adoption, blessed with His glorious grace in the Beloved, redeemed through His blood, forgiven our trespasses, lavished with wisdom and insight that make known to us the mystery of His will. We have obtained an inheritance and been sealed with the Holy Spirit. Note not that a word of that carries a caveat, “ … – if you’re married, that is.” Roles are not our identity. Roles do not – indeed, cannot – complete us. Our completion is in Christ.
Not married? Then be “single-minded” and determine to fully exercise the completion experienced in Christ to bless the world in a way that only those with the freedom of the single can.
No one in Christ, married or single, is ever sentenced to an incomplete life.
“Empty” nest?
Posted on: January 2, 2016
- In: Christianity | family | freedom | intentional living | parenting
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As we turn the calendar to a new year, what are you anticipating?
Our youngest daughter is 21. Up to now, she hasn’t been in a financially secure enough position to move out on her own, but she is rapidly arriving there, so sometime in 2016, Lord willing, after 30 years, our Emancipation Day will arrive. We will join the ranks of the so-called “empty nesters”.
Being a stay-at-home mom, and especially a homeschooler, I have had people expect that this would be something hard for me. “Since you’ve always surrounded with kids, won’t you be lonely? After spending so many years with your time occupied with teaching, aren’t you worried about what you’ll do with yourself?” My answer is a laughing, but emphatic, “NO” to both questions.
I was blessed by a mother who set an example for me in this. She was always a stay-at-home mom, often essentially a single mother because my dad traveled a lot. Yet although busy with raising 5 kids, Mama always found ways to keep her own interests going. Clearing out her house after she died last year, I was struck by just how many different crafts she had undertaken through the years that confirmed her identity as an artist. She always found time to read. She always had a flower garden of some kind. She put a lot of effort into decorating the houses she lived in. Of especial importance to me as a role model, was that my mother was comfortable in her own skin and with her own company. She was “Chuck’s wife”, and “Tim/Gary/Sandy/Corey/Susie’s mom”, but she never was ONLY those things. She maintained a strong sense of self apart from anyone else.
Mama modeled an acceptance of life in each of its stages, and never repined over any season of her life. When we kids were elementary aged, she never sighed for the toddlers we were. When we were in high school, she never got wistful over our Tooth Fairy days. When we left home to go out into the world, she never wished we’d stayed home forever. When Daddy died at my house while he and Mama were visiting in 1991, she spent that night weeping and walking up and down our driveway, but by morning she had reconciled herself to her new life on her own – and was determined to fully LIVE that life. And she did, too!
Mama avoided two of the most common traps many moms fall into.
One is that they have confused their role with their identity.
Our roles are what we do; our identity is who we are. No matter how tempting it is to get our sense of self from a role we fulfill, roles were never meant to consume or define us. Roles change over time but we’ll be living with our self long after our kids are out on their own. If we keep in touch with our selves, nourish our individuality, ponder our unique purpose, and grow in our own faith, when we face a change in our role we won’t find ourselves living with a stranger.
The other trap for moms is investing all of their life in the lives of their kids, but none in their own.
At some stages, especially when our kids are very young, investing in our own life can be difficult, I know, but it is important that we do it, even if we can reserve only a tiny corner of our life for actively pursuing personal growth. This isn’t being “selfish.” Sacrificing all of our life on the altar of serving our kids does neither them nor ourselves any favors. If we can keep even a little flame burning makes it much easier to get the fire going when the opportunity arises; staying involved in our own interests as our kids grow up means that when the time comes, as it will, that we have more freedom of time, rather than feeling an empty “Now what?” we can feel an anticipation that says “At LAST!”
A few years ago, in a conversation with an older, single woman I know, we were talking about decorating for Christmas. She told me that she doesn’t bother to do it, because “there’s only me at home.” Mama decorated her house to the nines; there wasn’t a single nook or cranny in the entire house that didn’t wear a festive decoration. When I related that conversation to her, she countered, “So what if it’s just me? I consider myself worth decorating for!”
My kids may leave home. Even my spouse could leave home, one way or another. But my nest won’t be “empty” until I’M no longer in it!
Wherever your nest, may you find contentment in it, and may the new year find you filled with anticipation! God bless you all.
I Should’ve Known
Posted on: October 4, 2015
- In: Christianity | fai | forgiveness | freedom | intentional living | self-image
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Anyone who knows the family in which I grew up knows that we place a high value on learning. We each may have our varying areas of stronger interest, but all of us are always on the prowl to increase the depth and breadth of our knowledge. That’s probably part of why three of us chose to homeschool our kids – it meant WE got to learn so much! (And here you thought homeschooling was about the children…)
In my junior high and high school years, I was terrifically lonely because of the cultural situation in which we were living, but although I wasn’t pretty and I couldn’t be popular, I found my place in being a useful resource. I didn’t “belong” to any group at high school, but I was accepted in any circle. I was always ready to help with homework or explain things the teacher left unclear (in anything but math, at least!) I read the newspapers and watched TV news, so was well up on what was going on in the world. I was also likely to know the real story about all kinds of things that were going on at school – such as when a “fire drill” was actually a locker search – because when you’re a “good student”, trustworthiness is assumed as a given. At the itty-bitty church we attended, I wasn’t afraid of debating with adults; because of my family background, it wasn’t uncommon that I knew as much or more than those adults did of the Bible or doctrine. I learned that knowledge can make you feel important, and that it makes a great defense against feeling vulnerable and worthless, and when necessary, it serves as a powerful offensive weapon as well.
Not that I thought of it in those terms, of course. That understanding came only after years of analyzing the experience of those painful years. Hurray for me, right? I figured my long-ago self out. Yeah, well …. In these last months, pondering the questions I mentioned previously (“Am I making myself the hero of my own story?” and “Who have I thrown under the bus?”), God has been forcing me to look under some rocks in my soul, and I’ve found some rather unpleasant bugs hiding out that try to scurry away from the light.
Proverbs 27:9 says, “Oil and perfume make the heart glad, and the sweetness of a friend comes from his earnest counsel.”
I got to have lunch with my bestie the other day. Lynda and I met in college in … 1980 (yikes!) … and for all but the five years she spent in China we have lived within a couple of hours of each other ever since. We dined on the wooden deck of a restaurant over the waters of Puget Sound in Tacoma – beautiful, hot, sunny day – light, fresh breeze – oh, yeah, bring it, baby! (A mojito would have been perfect, but, alas, I had to drive home, so I had to stick to an unleaded version.)
Lynda is a “safe” person for me – that is, I know she will listen with respect, answer honestly (if an answer is needed), and will never look down on me for or be shocked by anything I tell her. As we talked, I shared how God has been using the conference and some books I’ve been reading to bring me to face up to some very unpleasant facts about myself. Lynda settled in to her usual “I’m here for you. Tell me.” posture, and I proceeded. “I have realized that most of the time, I really hate to admit when I don’t know something. If I’m talking about a subject that I only know a little about, I may talk as if I know more than I do. Or if the other person assumes I DO know, I let them go on assuming. I always want people to think I DO know.”
Her response was not the gentle, sympathetic one I expected. No “Wow, that must be hard for you to admit.” Or even better, “I’ve never thought of you that way.” Nope. She leaned back in her chair and let loose a whoop of laughter! “Oh, Susie, honey, all your friends already know that about you – but we love you anyway!”
It was disconcerting, to say the least. Deflating. Embarrassing! Here I thought I was unveiling a dark facet of myself, only to find that I was the last to see it. I told a joke, but the audience already knew the punchline. Talk about feeling painfully, pitifully, pathetically comical.
Yet, ruminating on it more, I think that Lynda’s response to my “revelation” was a picture of God’s response to us. We dither and dodge and delay until at last we come to Him and do the Big Reveal, confessing the sins and shortcomings we have recognized in ourselves – only to find that He knew what was behind the curtain all along and had just been waiting for us to get our blinders off and recognize it, too. I daresay He sometimes gets a chuckle out it just as my friend did. He – our Friend – already knows about us, but He loves us anyway. He is not reluctant to associate with us because of our imperfections. He never says, “WELL, if I’d known THAT about you, I certainly wouldn’t have been willing to die for you!!” Seriously, what kind of God do we take Him for?
God keeps turning up the magnification and showing me just how many ways I still use knowledge as a barrier and a defense. I admit I’m still twisting uncomfortably in my seat at my confession about it, bad enough to Lynda, downright terrifying in this public format, but the point isn’t about me and my frailties. It’s about God and His generous grace.
“Dear silly child, I’m your Friend, and I’ve always known that about you – but I love you anyway!”
I Hate to Tell You This
Posted on: September 27, 2015
No, really. I DO hate to tell you this. Don’t worry – it’s not for your own good; it’s for mine. Well, maybe it will do you good, too – I never know what effects my scribblings may have.
Have you ever done the science experiment tasting a bit of paper that’s been treated with phenylthiocarbamide (PTC), a chemical that only some people can taste? For those who can’t taste it, the paper just tastes like paper did when we ate those magazines as toddlers. For those of us who can taste the chemical, though, the paper’s taste is bitter and entirely unpleasant, screwing up our face and making us want to spit the paper out and go rinse with something to take the taste away.
At the writers’ conference in April, one of the speakers, Tony Kriz, gave us a list of 10 questions he asks himself before publishing any piece of writing. (Tony is a challenger of the too-content, too-settled, and too-tradition-bound; find him at www.TonyKriz.com , or check out his books Aloof: Figuring Out Life With a God Who Hides, Neighbors and Wise Men: Sacred Encounters in a Portland Pub and Other Unexpected Places, Welcome to the Table: Post-Christian Culture Saves a Seat for Ancient Liturgy.) Two of the questions prompted a soul reaction just as that PTC-treated paper caused a sensory reaction: I wanted to spit them out and go gargle with something more pleasant!
Over the next few weeks, I did, in fact, try to find something to distract me from them, or find mental justifications why they didn’t apply to me – or maybe only just a little bit. The attempt was an unmitigated failure. Those questions had burrowed into my soul to stay, so it was obvious that they weren’t being posed by Tony, although his was the mouth through which they were delivered. Questions that spark this kind of reaction can only come from the LORD. I resigned myself that they were either going to just sit there and gnaw at me, or I was going to have to look them in the face. O.U.C.H.
Have you ever noticed how much easier it is to confess in generalities? We’re all comfortable confessing “I’m not perfect”, or admitting that “I make mistakes”, because no one on earth can deny the truth of those statements in their own instance. There may even be particular sins or short-comings we don’t mind confessing. For example, I don’t mind copping to being too impatient or owning up that I really shouldn’t have eaten that third piece of pie, because I’m in such good company on those offenses. Getting down to the personal, however, is another story altogether!
The two questions that are eating away at me are “Am I making myself the hero of my own story?” and “Have I thrown anyone under the bus?”
The answer to both is … um … not a negative? – and not just in my writing, either. I’d rather leave the admission of guilt at that – amorphously vague – but since some of the offenses have been splattered all over the pages of the Solution, it’s only fitting that some of the mea culpas also be shared in this venue.
Humble pie is on the menu – but at least the extra servings won’t make the scale creep up….
Being just like our Father
Posted on: June 21, 2015
- In: Christianity | church life | family | intentional living
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One of the interesting things coming out of dealing with my mom’s death is the revelation of just how different experiences with/perceptions of our parents were/are among my siblings and me. With a ten year age span between the five of us, several different living locations during our growing up, and, of course, our very different personalities and needs, it isn’t any wonder that such differences exist – indeed, it would be unbelievable if they did not – but knowing that these differences must exist and coming face to face with them in reality …. Somehow they still can be surprising. Even though our dad died 24 years ago, I’m still learning new things.
One of the things that came up in these last months has to do with fixing things. We always said my dad could fix anything. My dad disagreed; some things, he insisted, were not worth fixing! Honestly, though, he was one of those amazing guys who can seemingly do anything in the handyman line. I saw him take apart and put together countless kinds of appliances and toys; more often than not, that alone would restore them to working order without him even having to figure out what had been wrong in the first place. He did all our home maintenance and repair. At one house he enclosed the carport to create extra rooms; at another he finished the basement AND added on a huge garage and a workshop for himself. Once he retired, he parlayed his skills into a handyman business, under which flag he expanded into even more projects. I’m not sure if there was anything he was totally unwilling to tackle, though if electronics got too complicated, he’d bow out.
Because of my Daddy, I am pretty fearless when it comes to taking things apart. As he always said, “If it’s already broke, I can’t make it not work any worse.” If I already can’t use something, I’ve got nothing to lose by trying to fix it myself – especially if it’s something that it won’t be worth paying someone else to try to fix, if that’s even possible! I know if something was put together, it can most likely come apart; you just have to try to figure out which was the last screw, or the last tab. I can hear my dad’s voice as I work, “OK, lay everything out in the order you remove them, then just work backward from there to put it back together.” I can look at gears and latches and movements and more often than not figure out how the thing is supposed to work. I can read a user manual and identify parts. (Yes, my dad actually read directions!) My mom and at least one or two others of my sibling have said the same thing about hearing my dad’s voice as they go along on a project. A few months ago, one of my other brothers made the point that he does NOT. In fact, he doesn’t understand why we DO.
As I thought about it, I was struck by the realization that I didn’t get any of what I just talked about because Daddy TAUGHT it to me. Although he probably thought he did, the fact was, Daddy didn’t TEACH. He might show us – “OK, do this-this-this-this-then-this and there you’re all done” (like my one and only lesson in changing a tire) – but he didn’t take us through step by step and have us do it. Because he had come by his skill naturally and had had plenty of opportunity to gain experience on his dad’s ranch growing up, I don’t think he ever quite understood how unusual he was; I think he expected that of course we kids – especially the boys – would know how to be handy with tools simply because HE was. (When I married a man whose own dad had been, um, the antithesis of my own in that regard, my dad made allowances and did make a point of working WITH my dh to teach him skills, a blessing from which our family continues to benefit.)
I didn’t learn from Daddy how to fix things, but somehow I managed to absorb an attitude from him that I COULD. Yet my brother was left with neither. There are other attitudes I absorbed that have had a far less positive influence, but that escaped my siblings’ notice altogether. Of both my father and my mother, we find ourselves asking one another, “Where did you get THAT??” or saying, “Boy, I sure didn’t see it that way.”
Is it any wonder, then, given how amazingly individualistic we kids are in how we react to our earthly parents growing up, that we are so individualistic in how we perceive God? We believers read the same Word, yet how differently we may interpret it! We worship the same Lord, yet relate differently to His holy character. We come to God from such different experiences and different paradigms, such different expectations, fears, hopes, and longings that we should not wonder that we sometimes ask each other, “Where do you see THAT in Him? I’ve never felt like that.”
Unity in the Spirit doesn’t make us like each other; it makes us like the same God. However, because our God is so diverse and beyond our comprehension – the Great Both/And, the Great Contradiction, Who Makes Exist What Does Not – being all like Him we end up as different from each other as can be. No other believer will ever be able to relate to God as I do. There is a facet of God’s image that only you can connect with.
I see my mom and dad more clearly now that I am learning to see them through my siblings’ eyes. In some ways, I continue to hold to my own perception, but I have learned to fully acknowledge the validity of theirs, no matter how different from mine. It would be so sad if any of us tried to deny family identity over those differences. In the same way, we should value those in God’s Family whose perceptions differ from our own and be willing to consider theirs. We don’t necessarily have to adopt those perceptions, but we should acknowledge their validity. Worst of all would be for us to attempt to disown others from the Family simply because they experience the Father differently, have learned some different lessons, see His world through different eyes.
Whom God has called His child is my brother, my sister. We all bear the same family name. May we all be our Father’s children in word and deed.
Whose year is it, anyway?
Posted on: June 7, 2015
My dad had a saying. Actually he had LOTS of sayings. The older I get, the more of them I find myself using. When a whole string of things went wrong one right after the other, he’d say “Some days, ya just can’t win fer losin’!” Most of us know it as, “Man, this just ISN’T my day!” We’ve all been there.
You sleep through your alarm, so you’re running late. You speed a bit trying to get to work on time, and you get pulled over. While the cop is writing the ticket, he notices that your registration is expired. You sit in a meeting in the morning and spill your coffee. On the boss. You realize you forgot the lunch you’d packed the night before. It’s sitting right on top of the presentation folder for the big meeting this afternoon. There’s a huge traffic jam on the freeway, so you’re an hour late getting home, so there isn’t time for dinner before you have to head off for your kid’s softball game. During the game, your keys fall out of your pocket and land somewhere on the ground under the bleachers, amid the piles of peanut shells, candy wrappers and spilled soda pop. You get back to your car to find someone left a new dent on the bumper. You finally make it home, get the kids in bed, get yourself into your PJs so you can crawl in bed and read…. and find the dog threw up on your pillow. Not. My. Day.
On the other hand, sometimes everything seems to be going right. In November of 2013, I was looking forward to 2014 very much. My youngest was still home, but gainfully employed at last. My cousin I take care of was relatively stable. My oldest daughter, who had been facing placenta previa (a serious condition of pregnancy; go look it up), got the news that it had resolved and her pregnancy had been downgraded from high risk back to low risk; Gramsie (that’s me) no longer had to be ready to take on major care of the two and four year olds for months of bedrest. My own health was good, other than the setback of taking a fall in September that had derailed my exercise routine for a few months. I had lots of ideas for things I wanted to do in 2014: write, write, write; organize family photos; sew; plan Gramsie days with my grandprincesses; go hiking with my dh; get projects done on the house; work on my garden. Yep, 2014 looked to be marvelous.
In January of this year, I saw quite a few posts on my Facebook feed making claims “2015 is going to be MY YEAR!”, or encouraging others “Remember folks, this is YOUR YEAR!” I’m not entirely sure what they meant by it, but frankly, I just rolled my eyes as I thought about what happened to me LAST year. Contrary to how 2014 LOOKED to be shaping up, on December 6, 2013, my mom was diagnosed with lung cancer that had spread to her ribs, spine and brain. She died almost eleven months later, on October 29th of 2014. I was her primary caregiver, basically living at her home for her final three months. During that same time, the cousin I also serve as caregiver for had her own series of crises. The two either tag- or double-teamed me pretty much non-stop for the duration of my mom’s illness. I did a fair amount of writing, keeping up a CaringBridge journal about Mama’s journey Homeward, and for the last three months of her life, nearly daily emails to a circle of family and close friends, but I had little time to do writing for my own purposes, such as this blog. My garden went untended. Only one or two minor house projects got done. I only half-jokingly said that I had no life of my own – I had OTHER peoples’ lives. MY year? Not exactly.
Not only experience, but Scripture, warns against being too cock-sure of ourselves. In James 4, it says : “Come now, you who say, ‘Today or tomorrow we will go into such and such a town and spend a year there and trade and make a profit’— yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes. Instead you ought to say, ‘If the Lord wills, we will live and do this or that.’ As it is, you boast in your arrogance.”
Sometimes we DO get to go to that town, and we DO get to spend a year there and trade, and we DO make a profit. Other times, we’ll go to that town and spend a year and trade and….. end up bankrupt. Maybe we’ll get to go to that town and spend a year … trying to get a business license. Maybe we’ll get to go that town, and …. have to leave after a couple of months. Maybe we’ll set out for that town, and find the bridge is out or get set on by robbers. Maybe we’ll break our leg before we can even start packing!
We have no way of knowing . We don’t. But we sure act like we do, don’t we? Sometimes we act like God owes it to us to honor the plans we make, but the more we claim possession of our time, the more we set ourselves up for indignation, frustration, and even anger when our plans go south.
Most Westerners know the division of the historical calendar into “B.C.” and “A.D.” Many people could correctly identify “B.C.” as standing for the words “before Christ”. “A.D.”, however, is nearly always mistakenly defined as an abbreviation of “after death”, when in fact it stands for the Latin “Anno Domini” – the Year of Our Lord. In medieval times, the term often used was “Anno Gratiae”, or “Year of Grace.” The two were sometimes combined so that you may read in old English of a date such as “June the nineteenth in the year of Our Lord’s Grace, fifteen hundred forty-three.” Isn’t that a marvelous way of looking at our calendar?
When I said last year that I didn’t have any life of my own, I was right – but it would be a mistake to think that I ever will! As a Christian, my life is NOT my own. What would I do with a life of my own, anyway? I’m not so sure but that I’d make quite a hash of it in short order.
I don’t want MY year – but I’ll sure take another year of Our Lord’s Grace!
Need to Get Away?
Posted on: April 8, 2015
“L’Oreal – because I’m worth it!” “You deserve a break today/So get up and get away/To McDonalds!/We do it all for YOU!” “Pepsi – You deserve it!” Advertisers appeal to their customers’ sense of entitlement for one reason: it works. The instant-credit financing industry is built on the whole idea that you NEED these things, and you need them NOW – and by the droves, people sign up. Walk through any store and you’ll hear a chorus of “But, Mommy, I neeeeeeeeeeed it!” from toddlers who want the tempting toys so deliberately placed right by the check stand, or from teenagers who are convinced they have to have the latest “IT” brand or they’ll die.
When I started writing this post, I wrote out in simple, single-event sentences a timeline of the eighteen months from a fall I took in September of 2013 and going through the start of March this year. I didn’t include anything that was merely the normal wear-and-tear of life, only the out-of-the-ordinary. It took a page and a half! “On December 6, my mom was diagnosed with terminal cancer.” “Just after the start of August, I moved into my mom’s to take care of her. “ “Also on the 30th of August, Marie took not one but TWO falls, resulting in five broken bones in her left foot, including one of the most important – and longest-to-heal – bones in that appendage.” “On October 1st, Mama had to go back to the hospital because she was convinced my sister-in-love and I were anti-government agents out to kill her, so she refused to take her medications.” “Just after 2 in the morning on October 29th, Mama finally died, in great pain and distress.” “In the last five months, I have experienced seven deaths in immediate family, near family, or as-good-as-family.” A page and a half – and that’s the truncated version. Yeah, it’s been that kind of a stretch.
The only trips I had taken in those 18 months had been two one-nighters, so the idea of getting away for something longer had real appeal. My son, Phil, who lives across the state, attends a church that holds a mens’ retreat each year around this time; my husband, Rob, has gone to it with him for the last several years. So, Rob and I decided that this year, I would go along and hang out with our daughter, Cherry, Phil’s wife, Brooke, and the two grandprincesses, Evie and Fiona, while the guys were off retreating. No responsibilities, just relaxing and resting and playing – an honest-to-goodness vacation. We would go over March 26th and return home the 1st of April. When a new medical crisis with my cousin Marie on the weekend of the 22nd threatened to jeopardize my being able to go on the trip, more than one person told me, “No – you GO, no matter what! Let others deal with it. You NEED this vacation!!!”
To everyone’s relief, the situation with Marie was resolved enough that we did go to Pullman as planned. However, our going there was about the ONLY thing that went as planned! A nasty tummy bug that went from Evie to Brooke to Nona on succeeding days, a nasty change of weather that flared up my fibromyalgia, and terrible problems sleeping due to side effects of a new med my shrink gave me to help me sleep (how ironic is that?) … nope, I definitely got the wrong script. This was NOT the vacation any of us had in mind. It was a break, yes, away from home and its attendant responsibilities, away from Marie and her issues, but not really a vacation.
So, the question I was left to ponder is this: Did I, in fact, NEED that vacation?
Even just looking at it from a sheer point of logic, of course, the answer would be “no.” While there is no dodging the fact that unrelenting stress can have nasty consequences (such as my sleep disturbances of the last several months), no matter how badly I may have wanted it, no matter how much good it might have done me, a vacation is still only a want, not a need.
On a deeper level, though, wrestling with the issue of our needs and how – or whether – God meets them is crucial to our faith. God has promised that He WILL meet our needs. The very name Jehovah-Jireh, introduced in Genesis 22, means “God will provide”, or “God will see to it.” Writing to the believers at Philippi, in chapter 4 Paul says of Him that “…my God shall supply all your needs according to His riches in glory.” All through Scripture we see example after example of God’s provision for His people. At the same time, all through Scripture, all through history, and up to the current day there have been and are people of God who have starved to death, who have died of thirst, who have died for lack of shelter, died of or suffered from illness, who have been maimed, enslaved, tortured. Here in the affluent West, few of us face such extreme situations, but even the non-life-threatening ones we do, from the minor, such as the vacation that wasn’t, to the larger concerns such as the job that eludes us or the health problem doctors can’t find a treatment for, can cue a struggle as we seek to reconcile what God says with our perception of His apparent failure to deliver.
There are only two conclusions we can reach: Either God is a liar and does NOT meet our needs, or God meant what He said and our NEEDS are being met. If we believe that God is loving and kind, utterly incapable of cruelty, caprice or mistake, that He has our best and highest interest at heart, and that He is able to make all things work together for Good, then only the latter of those conclusions is possible. Rather than judging God by whether our needs are met, we should judge our needs by whether God has chosen to meet them; if there is something we perceive that we lack that He is not providing for, then it cannot, in fact, be our true need – or, at least, what we need most.
When Martha complained that Mary wasn’t giving her the help she needed to prepare the meal expected of a hostess for a guest, but was instead sitting at Jesus’ feet as if Mary had nothing else to be doing, Jesus’ response in Luke’s gospel (10:41) encapsulates God’s definition of our need: “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things, but one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen the good portion, which will not be taken away from her.” Mary chose to be with Jesus, the one and most basic need we all have. All other things in life are totally eclipsed by our need to be with Jesus.
This vacation didn’t provide the relaxation I envisioned. It did, however, certainly keep me crying out, as I have for the last year and a half, “God, I can’t keep doing this!!!!!” – to which His answer was as it always has been, “You’ve got that right, but just stick with Me, kid. I can do this forever – with or without you.”
Vacations, jobs, health, safety – even life itself – may not be granted us, but the one thing He has absolutely promised us is that He will be with us. We can choose to fret about what we think we need, or we can choose to lay our perceptions of our needs at His feet and by drawing near to Him, have our truest need abundantly met.
We don’t need to get away. What we need is to get closer.
Letting Your “No” be a “Yes”
Posted on: February 19, 2015
I got an astounding text from my 23 yo daughter the other day that read, “I think the universe just shifted. I actually like peas now!” To understand the gravity of this announcement, I must go back to her childhood. For most toddlers, peas are a favorite, not only because they apparently taste good, but because they are so easily picked up by that developing pincer grasp. Not Cherry. From the start, peas were a no-go. At our table, our kids were expected to learn to eat what was set before them, even were it only a bite or two. (OK, ok, to be honest, sometimes they were required to eat more than that if it was the main or only course. I hope they have since forgiven me.) But as she grew, Cherry was determined that the little green offenders would find no entrance; many is the time she sat at the dining table contemplating those tiny verdant orbs long after the rest of us had left. The most comical time we remember (and tease her about), was once when she was maybe kindergarten age. We had finished dinner, and to my surprise, Cherry’s plate was clean. “I ate my peas!” she told me. I praised her for it, of course, well pleased that the peas battle had been won with no bloodshed – for that round, at any rate. However, after doing dishes, I went and sat in the recliner in the living room, which has a direct view of the dining table. Glancing over, I noticed something odd under Cherry’s chair – and not just one. On closer examination, I found, you guessed it, a dozen peas! During the meal, she had been surreptitiously dropping those peas one by one under her chair when I wasn’t looking. In the manner of children, it never occurred to her that those peas would stay on the carpet as mute witnesses to her deception. She never pulled that trick again, though she found others, but once she left home for college, you could count on the fact that peas would never soil her plate, let alone cross her palate. When we found Sandra Boynton’s book/CD “Rhinoceros Tap” a few years ago, one song stood out: “O, Lonely Peas”, of which there is a comical performance you can find on YouTube.
One element of Lent is the practice of giving something up – fasting from something – for the Lenten period. I have known many for whom fasting in Lent is a form of self-abasement, a way to remind themselves of what awful, terrible, no-good, very bad people they are. Frankly, I don’t see that in Scripture. Paul identifies himself once as “chief of sinners”, but that is hardly his theme song, nor does he address the believers in the various churches as such. Numerous times we see variations on the Ephesians 5:8 passage, “Once you were darkness, but now you are light.” There’s a then, and there’s a now. Although there is a Lenten element of reflection on how our sin necessitated His sacrifice, I believe the purpose of the practice of Lent and its fasting should not be to focus on US and how far we fall short and what worthless maggots we are, but on HIM, His goodness, His grace to us, the depth of His love for us. In the light of His character and His grace to us, our response is to contemplate the ways in which our “work[ing] out our salvation” needs attention, areas where we are not as conformed to the likeness of His Son as we know we should be, asking His help to “will and to do”.
Rather than self-abasement, the self-denial of the Lenten fast is altogether different. In and of itself, self-denial usually feels like a negative action, but in Lent, that negative becomes a positive. Jesus said of anyone who would follow Him, “… let him deny himself, take up his cross, and follow Me.” If we stop at the denying of self, so that our fasting is only saying “no” to whatever we’ve given up, we’ve missed the point. We fast from one thing in order that we may be freed to embrace something better. Fasting is an opportunity to focus one’s mind and heart on the things of God, beginning with the saying of “no”, but then moving on to a holy “Yes” – the self-reflection of what cross we have yet to take up, and the highest good of what it means to follow HIM.
For many years Cherry would quite willingly have given up peas for Lent, but if the object given up is no real sacrifice, there is no gain from giving it up, either. There are two things that I absolutely love, and that are both rather addictive for me – as in, once I have the first bite, I have trouble stopping: any form of bread or cracker, and sweets, especially chocolate. Because of the way last year went with caring for my mother and cousin being so intense and time-consuming, with all the stress attendant thereto, indulging in sweets and breads almost without limit became a daily practice. So, for my Lenten fast, I have chosen to give up all those things. Yes, even chocolate. It’s not that those things are evil. For me, however, they have assumed too much power; they have become a comfort that only God should be. Saying “no” to these foods is a very real sacrifice, from my mouth’s point of view, but it will enable me to say “yes” to the self-control that is the fruit of the Spirit, allowing God to reveal Himself as the One Who is Enough – not only when it comes to my gluttony, but to other areas of my walk with Him as well.
Last year I gave up iced tea, which I usually drink several glasses of a day. It isn’t a “problem” food, but because of how ever-present that glass of tea would normally be, its absence provided a frequent reminder to pray and seek God’s face. Some people give up Facebook so that they can spend in prayer and contemplation the time they would otherwise spend perusing cute kitten videos, memorable memes, and status updates. Some fast for certain meals and give the money saved to a compassionate cause, asking God to teach them His love for others. The possibilities are endless, but if you choose to fast for Lent, remember that it is not enough to just say “no” – go on to saying “Yes!”
Peas be with you!
Ash Wednesday 2015
Posted on: February 18, 2015
I love organizing. It’s one of my most useful vices. Normally through the course of the year I go through just about every cabinet and shelf and closet to sort out things that no longer need to be kept, and to optimize the organization of what is left. Last year being what it was, I didn’t get to do that, so since the start of January, I have been immersing myself in catching up on it. Several boxes have gone to Goodwill already. It gives me a sense of security and freedom to know just what I have and where it is, and to feel reasonably sure that I am not allowing my house to build up a weight of unnecessary belongings.
For most of the world, yesterday was a big day. Mardi Gras is one of the biggest parties of the year, an excuse for drunkenness, lewdness, and revelry – a celebration of debauchery. I doubt that the majority of the celebrants even know what Mardi Gras means. As far as the world goes, hey, any excuse for a party, right? As for Lent itself, the world, if it has any knowledge of it at all, sees it only as the spoilsport of Mardi Gras . Even among Christians, there are a lot of erroneous ideas about what Lent is, associating it only with having to “give something up” for Lent. In reality, Lent is a positive, deeply meaningful season.
From the early centuries of the Church, a traditional calendar grew up that marked certain milestones in the life of Christ and of His Church, not unlike the Jewish festivals which likewise follow the seasons and serve as reminders of important events in the Old Testament. Most Protestant churches have abandoned that liturgical calendar, which is a shame, for, just as the Jewish people would through the year relive key moments of their history, so, too, does the liturgical calendar call Christians to reflect on key moments in ours. The calendar begins with the season of Advent, a time of preparation for Christmas, calling for reflection on why Christ came and focusing on the foretelling of His birth and earthly life. Next comes the twelve days of Christmas, celebrating His birth. January 6th marks Epiphany, remembering the coming of the Magi. The season of Epiphany lasts until Lent, and the focus during this time is the life and ministry of our Lord, with the study of the Gospels. Lent is a time of preparation for Easter, and the Easter season itself lasts until Pentecost, when we celebrate the coming of the Holy Spirit. From Pentecost until the final Sunday before Advent, the focus is on the Church and the non-Gospel books of the New Testament. The final Sunday before Advent is known as Christ the King Sunday, a celebration of Jesus’ second and final coming when He shall reign forever. While none of these seasons and celebrations are, of course, dictated by Scripture, their observance gives a beautiful rhythm to the year. As put by Archbishop J. Peter Sartrain, “The liturgical year continuously exposes us to every aspect of the mystery of Christ – not because we best understand His life, death, and resurrection in chronological order, but because by being continuously exposed to Christ, we allow Him to enter more deeply into our lives. The same lesson I learn this year can be deepened next year, both because I have had new experiences and because I have allowed Christ to help me understand them in His light.”
Last week a friend gave me two little devotion booklets for Lent. One of the booklets begins with the prayer used by the Roman Catholic Church for the first Sunday in Lent which I think is going to serve as a thoughtful starting place for me this season. “Grant, almighty God, through the yearly observance of holy Lent, that we may grow in understanding of the riches hidden in Christ and by worthy conduct pursue their effects.” For some, Lent is a season of focusing on their own sinfulness and unworthiness, and fasting from some certain food or activity is simply a form of self-mortification to emphasize the point. How very different an approach, then, to consider Lent not a time to look inward only, but as a time to immerse oneself in focusing on growing in understanding, not of ourselves and how horrible we are, but of HIM, and how great He is. From that starting place, we then consider our lives and how we are living them. It is a time of doing to my life what I am doing to my house: facing up to what’s there and deciding if it’s something I should keep or get rid of, or if there’s a better way I should be handling it.
We all have things in our lives that we need to get rid of or change; we all need to “clean house.” Let this Lenten season be our opportunity for asking our Father to shine His light into the all the corners, and then asking Him to help sort out what we need to get rid of.
the susie solution 