A Confident Hope

Prepare

2012-01-11T22:46:00.000-06:00

And, we’re off!

I am going to blink, and January is going to be a distant memory! It really is true what they say: the older you get, the faster the time seems to go.

This holiday season was, without a doubt, the shortest one I have ever had. It was like “stealth Christmas”. It crept up on me! I was as if I jumped on a runaway train in November and took a wild, wild ride. As soon as it started, it was over. Poof! January.

I was NOT prepared for Christmas this year. Not at all.

That’s why I’ve already marked my 2012 calendar: July 1-- Start Christmas shopping. You will think it is too early. (It’s not.)

There’s a 50/50 chance I’ll take my own advice. Ok, maybe that’s being optimistic. I’m pretty type-A, but those who know me best know I’m not married to my day planner. I’m not sure I have always been that way. Something flipped in my brain when I became a stay-at-home mom. That job required flexibility, and for a season, planning didn’t do me a lick of good! After a while, I decided I actually liked not doing everything by a calendar and a clock.

To this day, even though my kids are bigger, everything in me resists putting stuff on a calendar. I like following the Spirit when I wake up and letting Him take me though the day. But, alas, I must temper that with real-world practicality. Some things simply require planning.

Like Christmas…and my friend Shelly’s annual holiday cookie decorating party.

Recognizing the busy nature of the season, Shelly delivered her party invitations this year during the first week of November. Now, that’s determination! I accepted her invitation joyfully…in the back of my mind thinking “that’s really far away” and “we haven’t even had Thanksgiving yet”. True to form, I stuck it on my fridge and mentally filed it in the “I’ll deal with that later” category.

I’ve heard it said: Fail to plan. Plan to fail. And, that is exactly what transpired.

A few days before the party, I re-read the invitation. “Bring cookies and decorating supplies.” With growing frustration, I wondered to myself, “How am I supposed to find the time to make cookie dough and bake cookies this weekend?” In a stroke of genius, I remembered the ancient sugar cookie dough in my freezer. It had been given to Mary Claire as a birthday present in August, and we had never gotten around to making the cookies. (Yet another procrastination.) That dough would do just fine. I would just need to let it thaw the night before.

On the morning of Shelly’s party, I awoke and re-read the invitation to double-check the start time. 10 a.m. (Note that it is usually better to check the start time of a party sooner than the day of…especially when it begins in the morning.) Thinking I had just enough time to bake off those cookies and run the kids through the bathtub, I shuffled to my kitchen, eyes still half-open. Stumbling to the fridge, I reached in to pull out the dough. It was still hard as a rock. Unfortunately, my heart followed suit!

I lost it. I was so tired. It was mid-December. The kids were already out of school for the holidays. My house was dirty. I was way behind on my Christmas shopping. And, I was not prepared for this party! I found myself getting really agitated.

Shamefully, the object of my agitation was actually Shelly! I am NOT proud to admit it, but I huffed around the house all morning yelling at my kids to get ready faster so that we could go to the store to purchase cookies and not be late to a party I was increasingly bitter about attending. Inside, I was mad at my friend for hosting a party that was requiring me to do all of this. Isn’t that ridiculous? I was taking out my frustration over all of MY lack of planning on my friend. What did she do wrong? Plan a party and invite me to come? How dare she?! Come on, Sarah--get a grip!

Once I arrived at the party (at least an hour late), I finally calmed down…and admitted to Shelly (though probably not in this detail) what a stinky attitude I was having that morning. And, unfortunately for Shelly, I wasn’t the only one. There were others who either were late or did not show up at all. (Apparently, not only has the RSVP gone the way of the dinosaur, but also keeping your word and arriving on time.) How rude of us all! It wasn’t Shelly’s fault. She planned the party in November, for goodness sake! We accepted her invitation. Shelly wasn’t to blame for her guests being overcommitted, overstressed—and failing to plan ahead.

I felt so guilty. And so sad for my friend. She was visibly deflated. I am lucky that she is a “friend of the heart”—one that you can royally mess up in front of and she won’t drop you like a hot potato. Needless to say, I left her home that day feeling really humbled. And, rightly so. I should have been prepared.

Thankfully, God is always faithful to use my weaknesses to teach me. And, in the car on the way home, He directed me to the bigger picture. He spoke softly to my heart about the party He is planning. About the many who will reject His invitation. About the many who will feel woefully unprepared for the festivities on that Day.

Like Shelly, God sent His invitations well in advance. Invitations to the Wedding Feast of the Lamb. Haven’t you heard about it? It’s going to be the party of the ages! A lot of work has gone into preparing for this shin-dig! And everyone is invited! Have you RSVP’d? Are you coming?

Because, on the day of the party, if you are not ready to attend, you won’t be able to blame God for your lack of preparation. That would be as ridiculous as me blaming Shelly for my not showing up to her party, even though I never answered her invitation or got in my car to drive to her house.

God is the host, but you still have to get ready to come. He has graciously incurred all of the costs. It is free to you. In fact, He is doing all of the work to get you there. But, you have to let Him know you want to come.

If you are planning to attend, have you stuck the invitation on the fridge? Did you make a mental note that it is “really far away” and you’ll “deal with it later”? If so, when party day arrives, will you feel underdressed and unprepared?

I don’t know about you, but I don’t want Jesus to come for me and find me stressed out, overcommitted, sleepy-eyed, and in my pajamas! I don’t want to be surprised to see Him. I want to anticipate His coming--and prepare.

I’m not suggesting we do as the Mayans do, but maybe this event is one this “fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants” girl needs to put on her calendar. We may not be able to predict the day and time, but Jesus told us that we would see signs that His coming is near. And, those signs are all around us. Maybe it is time to start getting dressed.

"Surprise Me"

2011-12-05T11:07:00.002-06:00

How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are! 1 John 3:1a

Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him! Matthew 7:9-12

December is the stuff of memories. Somehow, for a time, the world and all of its complicated bigness seem to shrink into the simple things. And, for a brief moment, if we are watchful, we can view life through our children’s eyes.

We may not realize it, but we need our children to remind us how we used to “see”. The things of this world have lost their appeal for many grown-ups. It takes a lot to get us excited and create a sense of wonder in us. We may consider this new “adult” way of seeing wise. But, have we lost the ability to see God in the process? Have we lost our ability to trust and to be free, to worship and to hope?

I have decided that children have the right idea. Jesus thought so, too. He told us to be like them! You know, some things in this world hint at what is to come. If we haven’t become completely hardened by our pain and our disappointments, experiences here can be seen as a foretaste of the good God has planned. “Seeing” like our children could actually be good for us. And, the Christmas season gives us an open door to their world.

I don’t know how, but God has been gracious to let us preserve the magic of Christmas for our children another year. Even though our girls are 8 and almost 10, they still live deep within the free world of the imagination. Where Santa is real. Where their shelf elf—who Mary Claire stated today is “so cute, he looks just like a toy”—is so much more than a toy! The place where “Ernie” the Elf is a magical creature who lives at our house for the month, traveling at night from place to place, eating popcorn, and leaving notes that answer questions about the North Pole and its mysteries. My girls transport me, too, if for a short time, to that place. And, when Bryan and I are up late at night typing notes to our children from their elf, we are children, too. Won’t heaven hold that kind of joy?

Perhaps my favorite aspect of this magical stage of my children’s development is their total trust in good coming their way. They have been so consistently blessed that they now expect good. I tell you, for a mother who has had to break the news of a sibling’s death to her children, this is a tremendous relief! Despite their pain and loss, by God’s grace, my daughters still expect good things to happen to them.

Last week, they compiled their Christmas wish lists. Call it a greedy exercise if you want, but I saw it differently. I witnessed two little people who displayed complete confidence that they will receive what they ask for. I think that is beautiful. And, this year, I saw a new addition on my oldest daughter’s list. She took less than a page to write a few of her big wishes, but the last line of her list read: “Surprise me.”

I was sitting next to her when she wrote it down. I questioned her. “You really want to be surprised this year?” With a twinkle in her eye, she smiled at me and said, “Yeah, surprise me.”

I have thought about Caroline’s bottom line a lot since then. Really, it takes maturity to leave the outcome to chance. Maybe she has learned by now that things are not really left to chance. Maybe she knows instead that she can trust the giver. Maybe she has learned that it is fun to receive things from his heart.

In this case, when we mention the “giver”, we are talking about Santa. But, you and I know who Santa is. And, believe me, “Santa’s” heart toward Caroline is good! Santa knows Caroline really well. And, Santa can usually come up with things that will delight her, appeal to her natural interests, spark her imagination, and speak to her personally. Santa knows a little about what the next year will hold, too, and he gives accordingly.

Now, some people would say that we have deceived our children and contradicted our teachings about God by preserving this myth for so long, but I assert that when they find out Santa’s real identity, they will know this underlying truth: Their parents have loved them with a personal, passionate love and have delighted in giving them good gifts. Isn’t this the heart of our Father God?

If this is God’s heart towards us, I have to ask myself a few questions. Do I abandon myself so completely to His surprises? Or, am I so burned by the world that I no longer expect good? I wonder…do I trust the Giver the way Caroline does? Do I give Him a long, long list of my wishes? Or, do I ask Him to give me what He knows I will like? What He knows I will need? Have I discovered how much FUN it is to receive things from His heart?

I am challenging myself to make a new list this year. Oh, I’ve got some wishes. There are some things I want. God knows what they are. And, I am not afraid to beg Him for things! Insist on them because I know they are also the desires of His heart! But, at the end of the day, I want to “see” through the lens of a child. I don’t want to miss the foretastes of Heaven because of self-protection under the guise of grown-up wisdom (which is really just cynicism). I want to worship the God who has already won the victory and lives so that I may have abundant life.

God is my loving Daddy. He is the best giver ever! He knows what I want. He knows what I need. It is fun to receive things from His heart.

On this year’s list, my bottom line reads: “Surprise me.”

Heavenly Father, you know where my heart has been wounded. I am not so unlike others in this world. We have witnessed some scary things, experienced some loss, seen dreams die, and lived long and hard in a world with sin and death. We confess that we don’t feel all that free. We have put away childish things and along with them the hope of your redemption. We can no longer reasonably expect good. We don’t know how to experience joy fully. We cannot understand how to trust you because we have been hurt. In short, we are battle-weary. BUT, something in us stirs us to seek you still! We know there is more! Help us to see the “magic” all around us and trust you to give us good gifts this Christmas, throughout the year, and until we see you face to face.

Soldier On

2011-11-14T16:12:00.000-06:00

I’m standing over my daughter’s grave. A grief no parent should have to bear. It has been four years today.

I’m not sure what to think this time. Not sure how to feel. Bryan echoes the sentiment. It’s the same as last time. And it is different.

I focus on the shiny white temporary marker underfoot. Another year and I still haven’t brought myself to make this thing permanent. The marker wiggles easily on top of the dead grass underneath it. It’s been a rough summer drought, I think to myself. They’ll have to take out some of the bushes in this cemetery. Not sure if all of these majestic trees are gonna make it.

Everything dies, I remind myself. I sigh and shake my head. Here…everything dies.

I look around me, graves on every side. An expanse of granite slabs topped with bronze plates displaying names—names that matter to someone. Vases full of ugly silk flowers line the rows. Though they still “bloom”, these flowers, weathered over time, have lost their former glory, too.

Everything decays here.

And, this whole scene is a rerun for me. We’ve been here before. Yet, as time separates me from the trauma of Audrey’s death, I still wonder what I am to make of it all. Will this always feel this way? How am I to soldier on? What is the meaning of it all?

Suddenly, I am compelled in the moment. I hate death! Oh, no, it won’t do this to ME! With a rush of adrenaline, in a last-ditch effort to fight back against the past, I all but leap into action right there in front of my family and friends. Only an unseen hand holds me back. If I had a shovel, I would dig and dig and dig, and I’d pull her right out of there! We’d run far away from here, and I’d keep her safe.

As quickly as the thought occurs to me, it is diffused by rational thought. For all of the effort of digging and searching and reaching for her, I’d gain nothing. I would still come up empty. In this life.

So, now what?

I’ve asked that question before, Lord. I will ask it again. Now what?

I glance again at our humble little marker. If the wind blew hard enough, that thing might fly away. But, I am settled inside. Truly, I like it more than the ones I see around me. It is different. And, not just because it is small and not meant to stay there. (It occurs to me that Audrey is also small and not meant to stay there…)

No, there’s more to this. There is more in this moment. “Don’t miss it!” something inside me screams. Why does that tiny, bright white marker shout loud to me in this silent place?

Because it is the only one in my line of sight that bears a cross and a word of Scripture. The only thing in that desolate place that screams HOPE. Without the TRUTH, everything decays and dies and that’s it.

My mom puts her arm around me. My husband reaches for my hand. My friends cry and comfort and remember. My dad stands wistfully and gazes at the grave. I wonder what he’s thinking. Maybe that Audrey used to sidle up to his and mom’s bedside in the morning and whisper, “Mimi, Papa…coffee…” to entice them out.

My friend says, “Here, hold the baby. Will that help? You need a snuggle?” I rock that precious child as I stand over the place where my daughter’s body was laid.

And, I am aware. Tanner is only here instead of there by God’s grace. I shudder. He could have died at birth. My friend could have gone with him. Born at 30 weeks, he arrived much too early and under duress. But, the delightful smile on his face today portrays an innocence I want to remember for myself…and one I want to preserve for him. Not the kind of innocence that pretends not to see, but the innocence that comes from childlike faith and trust in a perfect, all-knowing God who redeems.

It occurs to me that this profound thought requires pictorial representation. How do you ask your friend to let you take a picture of her baby over your baby’s grave? Simply, if she is your heart friend. So she squats down and holds Tanner for the snapshot.

I look at that baby in that place, and I know. That is when the answer comes.

Now what? “More work,” God answers. “Don’t give up now.”

My fellow Sunday school teachers come to mind. They are keeping their grandchildren this week while their children travel to Ethiopia to pick up their adopted son. Not too many months ago, he was on the brink of starvation. But, they are partnering with a very brave and loving mama in Africa to give him a better life. And, Stone Chera will learn of Jesus…of God’s great love for him. A beautiful picture of sacrifice and rescue and hope.

And, someday, that boy will have the chance to do “more work” too…until God says enough is enough. But, we don’t know when that day will be. So, we soldier on.

I am sitting at my computer so entranced in my thoughts that I almost forget the children I still have in my watch care! I climb in my new van, determined to let music seep into me and breathe life into my soul. I blast my favorite new song: “We Are” by Kari Jobe.

Maybe if I listen to it louder, I will feel it more profoundly. I raise the volume another notch. I have played it at least a hundred times in the last week, but I can’t seem to stop. I think God is trying to beat it into me. I sing along. “We are the light of the world. We are a city on a hill. We are the light of the world. We gotta, we gotta, we gotta let the light shine.” A smile takes over as I belt these words. And, I see a familiar face outside my passenger window. She is ten. A picture of innocence facing a complicated world. She is in my weekly Tween Time Bible study. Carefree, she is riding her bike and beaming. She is waving at me. And, I am energized.

Yes, Lord. There is more work to do. I trust you. I will wait for your redemption. No matter how much I hate what has happened here or how many times you have to remind me...because of your light, I will shine until you come.

"You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden. ¹⁵ Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house." Matthew 5:14-15

Seasons

2011-10-28T15:05:00.001-05:00

Hello, everyone! Did you wake up this morning (at least in Central Texas) to a chill in the air? It gives me such a jolt of energy when the weather changes! There is just something joyful about a change of season. Summer’s carefree pool days and aimless afternoons eventually wear on our sun-kissed skin and our routine-starved souls. It’s amazing to me, but even good things can become tiresome things in big doses! Isn’t God gracious to give us a change now and then? Isn’t it comforting to know that there truly is a time for every purpose under the heavens?

As many of you have noticed, I have experienced a “season” of staying out of the cyber-world…as is evidenced by the date of my last post! I think that those of you who are still hanging on and checking my blog now and then deserve an update! Let me say up front that I am grateful to those who have checked on me and who have encouraged me to get to writing again. I have not stopped for a lack of ideas or for a lack of desire. My hiatus was simply this: I was in a different season for a while.

As more and more time passed since my last post, I fretted over it a bit. Many had told me that once I started this blog, I had to keep it going or I would lose my readership. But, God reassured me by His Spirit. If it is HIS thing anyway, what difference would time make? This whole endeavor has been HIS idea, and He is bound to do with it what He wills. So, I am confident that the best thing I could have done was to ride out my life’s seasons with purpose, joy, and peace…all the while hoping that God would bring back the inspiration and the time to write when He saw fit.

I want to let you in on a great little secret: God may push the “pause” button in one area of life for a while, but that only means He has something else for you to do in another area! When we are turned toward spiritual things, there is never much chance to “stop” entirely! That is exactly what has happened in my life over the last five months. Here’s a brief summary…

My parents moved here from Dallas in June. They sold their house in May (it’s a cool story, too)…but they had nowhere to live when they got here! So, in faith, they moved in with our family! We enjoyed a summer full of Mimi-and-Papa-time and house-hunting. I am pleased to report that God provided a home for my parents only two streets away from us! We spent the summer months helping them remodel the house and prepare to move. And, we helped them move in only a week or so before school started again. It was a whirlwind, but it has been fun.

We are only now beginning to adjust to living in the same city (the same neighborhood!)—a privilege we have not had in over 18 years. I love having my parents so close. Bryan and the kids do, too. Now, our visits do not consist of an entire weekend complete with a 3-hour drive up and down I-35. We get to enjoy day-to-day things (kids’ activities, weeknight dinners, running errands). We get to worship together on Sundays and share lazy Sunday afternoons. Mom and I are even attending a Bible study together on Revelation. (Look for future posts influenced by this great study!) We can exercise together, cook holiday meals together, and share more of our lives. I truly believe that God set aside this summer for our family to adjust to this big change, and I believe it is part of our whole family’s healing process after many years of grief and loss. God is fulfilling His promise to us to “give us a new song” (Psalm 40:3), “do a new thing” (Isaiah 43:19), and allow us to see “the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living” (Psalm 27:13).

This summer also brought a string of Vacation Bible schools for my girls. Caroline, in fact, attended 3 different VBS’s with the same curriculum. I thought she’d get bored, but I think that God had a plan to get some of His truth firmly planted in her mind and heart! Mary Claire, too. Just two nights ago, I found MC in her room with her Bible open, all of her own accord. She called me in to show me how the lyrics from her VBS music CD are “actually in the Bible”! She was so excited that she could look those verses up for herself. And, she exclaimed that she needed to take her Bible to school the next day so that she could “memorize it”. I told her that would be an excellent pursuit—the best, in fact. And, I encouraged her to keep after it. She responded, “Why wouldn’t I?!” Music to my ears. Thank you, local churches. Thank you. Praise to God’s Holy Spirit who never quits pursuing my kids. I don’t have to do all the work (in fact, I am kidding myself if I think I have the power to convince them of anything anyway…).

Our summer VBS circuit also inspired a new passion for me: community evangelism. Since before Bryan and I had children, we planned to send them to public school one day. Our hope was that we would have the opportunity to be salt and light in the community where we lived, spreading the hope we have to many who do not know the Good News. That dream sat in the “someday” category for a long time…probably a decade. But, this summer, when we invited one of my daughter’s friends to VBS, I discovered how easy it really was to talk to people about Jesus…how many people are not completely closed off to talking with one real person about their real-life faith. That positive experience coupled with a successful impromptu Bible study in my living room one evening with my children and some friends’ children inspired me. God opened my eyes to the need for Bible study for elementary-aged children. Churches have summer outreaches (VBS) and Sunday school. There is little else provided until middle school. But, 9-11-year-olds are intelligent, curious, and hungry for truth! Could I address that need? What could God do?

I decided to start a Bible study in my home with Caroline’s friends and classmates. Mary Claire, I determined, wasn’t quite ready. (She wanted to do the fun activities, but requested we not do the Bible study part! Next year, I’ll invite her friends, too!) Anyway, we emailed a few people and decided to use that same workbook I had tried out with my own kids in my living room (Between: A Journey Through Proverbs, by Vicki Courtney). I knew I had some friends who would send their kids to my home, so I figured we might gather about 6-8 girls. But, God had other plans! What started out as a simple idea has turned into something way bigger than me or my little inspiration. We now have 26 girls enrolled in what we are calling “Tween Time”!

Tween Time meets once a week (still in my home…for a while longer). We sing songs, memorize Scripture, study the Bible, have snacks, and do crafts and play games together. We participated in a service project together, took a field trip to Texas Baptist Children’s Home, and hosted a Family Fun Night at the park. I have been unapologetic about the fact that I am a Christian and believe that the Bible is true…and that I intend to teach it. Many of the girls who come attend church and belong to families who profess faith in Christ. I think those families see Tween Time as an opportunity for their girls to learn to take their faith out of Sunday and out into the world they live in from day to day. But, many of the girls have families that are unsure about Christianity or who have had negative experiences with churches or Christians specifically. Still, they are sending their girls to my house. And, many have purchased Bibles for their girls for the first time so that they can use them for our study. I have told these families that I would like to show their girls what it means to be a Christian and teach them what the Bible says so that they can determine for themselves whether or not they think it is true. They know that we are also learning universal values of friendship and encouragement. They agree with me that our young girls need solid emotional, spiritual, and social skills to successfully navigate their rapidly changing world.

I am quite honestly blown away by what I am seeing in my community. I am so encouraged. God is at work. And, He multiplies our time, talents, and other resources when we are just willing to jump in and try something. I am learning SO MUCH from this process about what God is doing in the world right now, about myself and my fears and hang-ups, about evangelism…and, that only scratches the surface. Needless to say, as we have grown, we have had a lot of adjusting to do, so Tween Time has taken up a lot of my time. I am building relationships with my neighbors, and they have blessed me tremendously.

Tween Time is merely ONE of the ways my summer season bled right into my fall. September brought with it football, and that is kind of important in my household. Bryan and I joke about how, as college students, we dreamed of the day we could afford season tickets to the Longhorn games. Well, last year (15 years after graduation) was the first year those elusive tickets could squeeze into our budget…and we had our first losing season in a long time. Humble pie, my friends. But, we decided to give those Horns another try again this year. We even traveled to Los Angeles with some of our good friends in September to see UT play UCLA in the Rose Bowl. It was a fun and relaxing get-away for Bryan and me.

Moving on to October…I think October may go down as one of the busiest and most productive months in Moran family history. This month, we repaired a car, sold a car, researched and purchased a new car, participated in a family mediation for an entire weekend, traveled for a family wedding, put our whole house through a tech refresh, and Bryan had surgery…IN ADDITION to our “normal”, “everyday” activities. I feel like I have been hit by a train, but I also feel satisfied. We got a lot done. Much of it was fun. Some of it was not. But, ALL of it was purposeful. God used this month to free us of some brokenness that has been hanging over our heads for a long, long time. And, He also provided some opportunities to move forward on some dreams He has planted in our hearts that we believe will lead toward healing. Let me elaborate…

Earlier this summer, Bryan came home from church giggling. Curious, I asked him to let me in on the joke. “Oh, it was just funny,” he said, “I was sitting in Sunday school this morning. Before it began, I pulled out my iPad and started a list. I named it ‘$*#@ I Don’t Want To Do That I Have To Do.’ My good friend came and sat next to me, casually looked over my shoulder, and said with a straight face: ‘I need to make one of those lists, too.’”

Well, that $*#@ list (as we have affectionately, if irreverently, come to call it), has been a real blessing to our family in the last few months. When you face lots of pain at once (some of it as a result of falling into a pit--as Beth Moore so aptly states in her book Get Out of That Pit--and some as a result of jumping in with both feet), there is a lot of work to do to heal. Bryan and I both had a very long list of unpleasant things we needed to do in order to move through our grief and through our mistakes, and through our pain. We still have some work to do, but I am elated to say that we have made a hefty dent in that list in the last few months. It was like the lightbulb went on for Bryan. I think he realized that if he didn’t act on what he knew to be necessary, he might not experience the abundant life Christ had planned for him. And, I am so grateful to God that my husband listened and obeyed. His obedience freed ME from that same bondage. After all, as a married couple, we are one flesh.

One of those places in our life that was holding us back was a broken relationship with Bryan’s dad. For four years, we have, admittedly, had some serious conflict. We did our best to deal with it as it brewed, but we were all under a tremendous amount of stress. As our counselors from Live At Peace Ministries said, “We have never seen a family before who has experienced as much trauma and loss in recent years as yours.” No kidding. And, it was complicated. Add in decades of some unhealthy patterns, differing personalities, suspicion, judgment, and Satan’s craftiness and POOF!: You get brokenness. It took great courage on the parts of 6 different family members to enter into an agreement to spend a weekend hashing things out. All of us Christians, we could not figure out why things had to be this way. But, there was a tremendous amount of fear and doubt discouraging us from facing our problems head on. How much more pain could any of us take?

Despite many obstacles, God led us all to a conference table at the airport Hilton for the weekend. It was horribly painful. The process was grueling. And, to be honest, I didn’t have high hopes for the outcome until about an hour before it was all over. But, God knocked our socks off. His heart is reconciliation and restoration. And, He can do a lot with willing hearts and obedience…in spite of all of our sin and brokenness. Thank you to all who prayed for our family as we went through this time. I have confidence now for a future serving Christ together and enjoying our families with one another. I am sure I will write more about this later, but it certainly counts as one of the most important parts of this “season” for me…

Last, but not least, for a few years now Bryan and I have been discussing adding to our family. Immediately after Audrey died, we felt that we would not ever want more children. But, God’s work in our life has changed our minds and hearts. This decision to open ourselves to whatever God may have in store for us has been a complicated one. Initially, we wanted to make sure that we were not trying to replace Audrey. That is impossible. Then, there were marital issues to resolve and fight through. And, there was the not-so-small issue of a necessary medical intervention. After we had three children in three years and I began to have health problems, we got sort of scared of each other. Prayerfully, we made the decision to have a vasectomy. I still don’t think we did the wrong thing. We were operating on faith—and on all the information we had at the time. But, these last few years have changed us tremendously. A vasectomy reversal would be expensive, though…and invasive. And, Bryan, especially, wasn’t very excited about that prospect. So, we waited. A long time, it seems. And, after about a year of hardly mentioning it at all to each other, Bryan made the appointment to have a consult with a surgeon.

We met with that surgeon in August (a day after our 13^th wedding anniversary). He had what you would consider to be the typical bedside manner of a surgeon…business-like. He walked into the room, head down, with a laptop in hand. He did not greet us, shake our hands, or introduce himself to us. I got worried. But, as he “reviewed our file” and began to talk with us, he proved to be more human than he seemed at first. I don’t think he sees many patients in our situation. It took him a minute to understand that I am the “original” wife and that we already have three children between us. Once he “got it” and he heard of our loss, he began to cry. And, the tears were real. He had to keep apologizing for not being able to collect himself. We found out he has a child Audrey’s age. After he told us about what HE can do, and after WE told HIM what GOD can do, we scheduled a vasectomy reversal for October 24. With money down, our decision was made.

When the surgeon greeted me in the waiting room on Monday after the 2 ½ hour procedure, I was preparing myself to get news that I didn’t want to hear. I told God that if it didn’t work, I would still say He was good and I would still tell people He is in control and has our best in mind. But, I begged Him not to require that of me…again. And, in His mercy, He did not. The surgery was a success, and the surgeon said it could not have been easier. I cried tears of relief and great joy…even though I really don’t have any idea what God will do with our crazy decision. It was a leap of faith. We felt led to go that direction. I asked God not to let us spend the money if He didn’t want us to do so. And, we still saw that green light telling us to “go”. Only time will tell what this little adventure has been for…

As I type, we are four days post-surgery. Or, I suppose I should give credit where it is due… BRYAN is four days post-surgery! He is still somewhat immobile, so as I write, he is parked in front of the Play Station. I took a break for lunch and sat down with him. “You know what is almost as exciting as playing ‘Batman’?” I asked him sarcastically (all the while preparing my rhetorical answer: “Watching you play ‘Batman’”. But, before I could finish, he replied, quite seriously, “Being Batman?” That pretty much sums up my husband. And, it is one of the things I love most about him. He has that childlike quality…that ability to dream, to imagine…and that translates well when it comes to his manhood. It makes him an excellent dad, a wonderful husband for a type-A like me, and an all-around great person to know. I would be honored to go through all this crazy mess with him again…ALL of it…so long as we keep moving toward victory in Jesus! And, by His grace, we are.

Thank you for all of your support in the past, for all of your encouraging emails and Facebook messages. Thank you for your patience with me and for still reading after that long break. Trust me, if you have enjoyed anything I have written so far, there is much more where that came from. I have jotted down about 10 ideas in the last month alone…on napkins, on my phone, on random junk mail….whenever and wherever the inspiration has struck. And, God is NOT done with this blog or our story. Our story is HIS story. And, HIS story is wonderful…and creative…and so complicated. How could it ever just stop?!

I hope you will get back in the habit of checking “A Confident Hope.” Tell your friends about it! And, I pray that whatever season you find yourself in, you will find that God is right in the middle of it with great purpose.

Remember: He has made everything beautiful in its time. Ecclesiasties 3:11 a

There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens:

² a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
³ a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
⁴ a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
⁵ a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
⁶ a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
⁷ a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
⁸ a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.

⁹ What do workers gain from their toil? ¹⁰ I have seen the burden God has laid on the human race. ¹¹ He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end. ¹² I know that there is nothing better for people than to be happy and to do good while they live. ¹³ That each of them may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all their toil—this is the gift of God. ¹⁴ I know that everything God does will endure forever; nothing can be added to it and nothing taken from it. God does it so that people will fear him.

Ecclesiastes 3:1-14 NIV

What Kind of Princess Are You?--A Mother's Day Reflection

2011-05-11T16:02:00.000-05:00

With Mother’s day in the rearview mirror, I am still pondering womanhood. The holiday hit me pretty hard this year. I felt equally sad for our losses and thankful for our blessings. I sobbed over Audrey’s death. Bryan wept over his mother’s death. I opened precious cards from Caroline and Mary Claire and enjoyed their affection. And, we all ate cake! No, we didn’t actually eat cake, but you get what I mean. We grieved and celebrated on the same day. Emotions at both poles can be confusing, to say the least. But, in the deep seat of my soul, beneath the feelings about what I have gained and lost, I sensed an overwhelming desire to BE the woman God made me to be…to figure out what that really means. I want to see with a wise and grateful heart the place from which I have come, the place I am now, and the place I am going. I want to act on things that I will be proud of when my life is said and done. In a word, I guess I am talking about legacy.

When God made me a woman, what did He intend for me to be? What part of His image do I reflect? What is my purpose? My worth? I have been reflecting on the ways in which my own mom shaped my world view and gave me the skills I still use today. I have contemplated how she is continually influencing who I am becoming. And, I have been asking the tough questions. Lord, how do I convey the value of womanhood to my daughters? Let them know of their great value to You? How do I help them see their role in Your world at this time in history? How do I build their strength to face whatever comes their way?

As I mull over all these things, my heart is drawn to the Proverbs. Written as a relational guidebook, Proverbs consists of wisdom from a father to a son about how to fear God, respect your parents, and find a good wife. For those of us whose chromosomes are XX, Proverbs 31:10-31 is a familiar passage of Scripture. As Christian women, we often see it as a standard of godly womanhood…and often a tall order we cannot possibly fulfill. But, a quick reading of the passage, or even a thoughtful memorization of it cannot provide the insight we need to understand its intent. For all its familiarity, I think we often miss its true meaning. Proverbs 31 was written as a Hebrew poem, and it is actually a representation of wisdom in female persona. In other words, all of the other advice given in the book of Proverbs is summarized in Proverbs 31—in female form.

Sometimes we read through what this chick does, and we think, yeah, right! I’m not everybody’s slave. I’m not burning the candle at both ends. I can’t be all those things. But, I think we have the wrong visual image of the woman being depicted. May I present you with the woman I used to see when I read Proverbs 31?

You guessed it. Cinderella. Before said prince sweeps her off her feet. This woman works her fingers to the bone and endures the harsh words of her mean sisters and stepmother. And, she does it all with the grandest work ethic and the sweetest disposition. All she needs to endure her life of servitude and mistreatment is an occasional song with a couple of adorable mice. She is the original super woman.

You can imagine my relief when I discovered that my imagery was all wrong. This is the woman I should have been picturing:

Where in the world did you get that idea, you may ask? None other than the original Hebrew, my sister! Let’s take a look at Proverbs 31:10, shall we? Now, I don’t know what Bible translations you’ve been reading, but all the ones I’ve ever seen look like this: “An excellent (noble, capable, virtuous) wife, who can find? For her worth is far above jewels.” Ok, I like jewels. I like the idea that I am worth a lot. And, being excellent, capable, and virtuous are all good things. But, did you know that the Hebrew word used here is “Chayil” and that it means strength and might? The same word, used in Judges 6:12 to refer to Gideon, is translated “mighty man of fearless courage” (AMP), “mighty man of valor” (KJV), “mighty hero” (NLT), and “valiant warrior” (NASB). What a far cry from our Cinderella-in-rags view of the Proverbs 31 woman!

There is an unmistakable military motif in Proverbs 31:10-31. This woman is a fighter! A scrapper! She is fearless and courageous. She is strong. She not only provides for her family, she fights battles on its behalf. She brings them the “rich plunder of a victorious army” all the days of her life (v. 11-12). This is an image I can get behind. It more accurately describes the fierce spirit God has put inside of me.

There is no doubt. You are a princess, sister. You are a daughter of the King. So, which kind of princess are YOU? Are you the princess-in-rags just waiting to be discovered, or have you gotten in touch with your inner warrior princess? Cause, girl, you’ve got work to do! And, the work you do matters in this world! The strength with which you fight your battles will be your legacy.

Happy Mother’s Day—to ALL God’s mighty women!

To the Warrior Queen:

Mom, how can I thank you for showing me how to be a strong woman? You are the original warrior princess. You always told me I could do anything, that I was capable. Then, you showed me how. Strength didn’t always mean getting your way. In fact, you most often showed your strength in your willingness to put others first, to love with a fierceness that never lets go. You have shown us all who we truly are by believing the best in us, even when we weren’t there yet. I love watching your faith grow, listening to the things God is teaching you, and walking through this journey together. I’d thank you for raising me if I thought your task was done, but I still call on you to be my mom, and you answer excellently. There is no substitute for your influence. I can only pray that I will honor your commitment to me with my life—may it always be a sweet reminder that the work you have done has consequence.

I am infinitely excited about sharing this next adventure with you as you “retire” to Austin. We will discover together what God has planned for you and for our whole family as He continues to reveal the “whole truth” to us. Fight on, mighty woman of valor!

To My Warrior Princesses:

Caroline, how I love watching you bloom into the little girl God has made you to be! Helping you with your writing assignment on the back porch last week will go down as one of my favorite moments in time with you. I loved seeing your excitement as we played with the gift of words, twisting them to bring more meaning and life to the story you had stored up in your imagination. I dream that someday we can share this love of writing—maybe even write together for God’s glory-- but most of all, I count on us sharing the love of each other’s company. I refuse to believe that ends at age 13. When you looked at me recently while I sang Mandisa’s “Only the World” with gusto and said, “Mom, you’re a cool mom,” you touched my soul. I can only pray that you will always think so.

You are a helpful, compassionate, and insightful kid. God has good things planned for you. May you always know that I am your fiercest advocate. I will fight for you. There are many things I wish you did not have to endure that you have already suffered. A younger, less-experienced me would have grieved over that forever. But, as un-motherly as it sounds, I do not wish for you to be sheltered from suffering. For, that would make you a weak woman. Instead, I wish for you to glean every ounce of wisdom from whatever you must endure, that you may be a mighty, mighty warrior princess for the kingdom! And, you will be! May God fill you with a deep sense of purpose and joy throughout your life. May God grant you the desire of your heart since you were four—that you would be able to hear God’s voice.

Mary Claire, what a delight you are! I caught a glimpse of your warrior spirit last week when you spontaneously decided you were ready to pierce your ears. When you get your mind set on something, you do it, girl! I saw your true beauty in your bravery as you sat with a big grin on your face and giggled nervously with the guns held steadily over both ears. After it was over and a few tears were shed, your crying turned into uproarious laughter. Your next words will never leave me: “Mom, when I do something that I thought wasn’t possible it feels so good.” Yes, it does, child! And, there is no limit to what you can do when your heart is turned toward Jesus! He has made you for a purpose, and I am going to love figuring that out with you.

You are constantly making me laugh, Mary Claire. Your love for bringing joy to others and for performing dramatically is evident. I can see you acting or singing someday. Whatever you do, you will do it with gusto. Don’t ever lose that sense that you are capable of the impossible. No matter what this life throws at you, fight! You will do big things for God someday. You are already big in our family and big in our hearts.

Audrey, I cannot wait to do “normal” things with you when I get there. I still hope God lets me raise you…in a perfect place. But, until then, I can’t help but think of Revelation 13:6 when I think of you. It says that the devil opens his mouth to blaspheme God’s name, his dwelling place (Heaven), and those who live in Heaven. That’s the God you see face-to-face, the place you live, and who you are, dear one! I wish I could just be your mommy here, but apparently my new role is to fight the enemy for your honor! There are many here, sweetheart, who do not know Jesus and who don’t believe in Heaven or know what it is like. I promise to fight until many more do. I hope it makes you proud.

Behind the Curtain

2011-05-04T12:13:00.000-05:00

About 5 weeks after Audrey died, Bryan and I traveled to New York City. It was my first trip to the Big Apple. We had planned to go well before the accident occurred. There were a lot of reasons to cancel it altogether. How could I leave Caroline and Mary Claire with someone else? How could I try to have any fun? In hindsight, I am not sure why we made the final decision to go anyway. It was terribly hard to get out of the door. But, we knew we needed the time together, and we didn’t want the devil to win. It may sound silly, but I actually thought if I changed my plans that somehow I would be setting a standard for the rest of my life. I felt like I had to decide right then and there to keep moving even though I didn’t want to breathe anymore.

That first trip to New York included some really great sights and sounds (like Rockefeller Center at Christmastime), but it was excruciatingly hard. I cried my eyes out at every major landmark and scenic overlook in the Empire State. Everything we did was shrouded in grief. In the end, we were proud of ourselves for going, but it was so sad.

That was December 2007. This last weekend, Bryan and I made our second trip together to New York City. We met two of our best friends for a spontaneous getaway. I know, it sounds extravagant. It was. Not many people get to do what we just did. I even flew home in the first class cabin. (Bryan travels weekly for work, and there are perks.)

Knowing how blessed I was to be taking off for the weekend, I anticipated lots of fun this time around. But, I also braced myself as I entered Times Square for the second time and caught a glimpse of the Statue of Liberty for the second time. I wanted so much to replace those wounded memories of our trip following Audrey’s death. But, I wasn’t sure how I would feel. Would I be overcome by that same sadness, conjure up the freshness of the grief?

I am grateful to say that we successfully made some new memories this weekend without dredging up too many of the old ones. It was great hanging out in such a busy, diverse city with good friends. We laughed a lot and didn’t do too much planning ahead. We took a bus tour, ate lunch in Chinatown, consumed an authentic Reuben at the Jewish delicatessen where part of “When Harry Met Sally” was filmed, browsed FAO Schwartz, shopped in Soho, and saw two fabulous Broadway shows: “Mary Poppins” and “Jersey Boys”.

One of the highlights of our trip was a unique backstage tour of the set of “How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying”. Lead actors in the musical include Daniel Radcliffe (of Harry Potter fame) and John Laroquette. We didn’t meet those guys, but one of our friends’ old college buddies from Baylor (Chris Hanke) also has a lead role in the musical (which plays through December). He was gracious enough to meet us at the stage door an hour before the show and give us an inside look. What a genuinely nice guy he is! He took us into his personal dressing room and we actually walked onto the stage of the quaint old theatre. Only an hour before show time, we were standing behind the curtain of a real Broadway show! How cool is that?! What a vantage point!

Behind the curtain. That one phrase really sums up my second trip to New York City. It was as if I saw New York City for the first time this weekend. It is as if I was looking at it from behind the curtain…from a whole new vantage point…with an insider’s look at what was really going on spiritually in one of the heaviest populated cities in the world. In 2007, I was reeling from the most life-changing, earth-shattering, paradigm-shifting event I had ever encountered. All I could see in New York was my own pain and loss. This time, I think I saw into God’s heart a little more. Let me explain.

While we were sitting at “Mary Poppins”, I felt immense joy as we appreciated the God-given talents of the actors and actresses, dancers, musicians, writers, directors, set designers, and costume designers. The show was innocent and had a heart-warming message. The music was infectious, and the dancing made me want to stand up and join in. The actors and actresses were hilarious. The children who played Jane and Michael Banks performed brilliantly. I was so impressed with the artistry involved in preparing the show. “What a creative God we serve!” I thought.

I had the same thought the next night as we watched “Jersey Boys”, a musical about Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons. Songs like “Sherry” and “Walk Like a Man” have become such a part of our shared cultural experience. Isn’t God good to give us music to share and enjoy? The actor who played Frankie Valli sounded JUST like Frankie himself. His voice was so pure—out of this world perfect. Who has falsetto like that? Not many people. God gave that man great talent. I’m so glad he shared it with Bryan and me and our friends.

I could not help but think as we sat in those theatres that Heaven is going to be so awesome! What amazing breadth and depth of creativity and talent our big God has placed in His people. I can just see us singing and dancing and painting and making sets and putting on shows in Heaven. Can’t you? I can see us all sharing with each other what we do best and enjoying what God made in and through us. Pretty cool thought.

But, seeing New York City from “behind the curtain” also meant that I became keenly aware of the evidence all around me that this world is in need of a Savior. In the midst of the wealth and the entertainment and the food and the creativity and the hard-working New Yorkers (like our newly immigrated 22-year-old pedi-cab driver from Turkmenistan), I saw the dark underbelly of the fallen world. In 2007, we were too sad to tour Ground Zero. I didn’t think I could handle it. This time, with respect and reverence, we observed with our own eyes the devastation of evil. We saw a damaged sculpture blocks and blocks away from the original Twin Towers, and I realized for the first time what it must have been like when a 100 story building collapsed in the middle of such a busy city. I still cannot believe that we were in New York City on the day we finally located Osama Bin Laden. Historic.

Ground Zero wasn’t the only evidence of the world’s ills in NYC. I saw individual people hurting, living in a lost and broken world. As we walked down the street after a show, I saw so many homeless. Many of them were mentally ill. I also saw trash cans being dumped by garbage collectors in the early morning hours. The side of the trash cans advertised fortune tellers. I saw a poster on a stairway leading to a basement establishment that advertised “Oriental beauties who perform rare love rituals”. I saw people who had too much to drink and didn’t look like they were very happy. I saw people touring the city on vacation, all the while bickering with their family members. I saw an impatient man in a cab yell angrily at a taxi operator to “do his job”, removing any shred of dignity he may have had. I saw a young woman in front of a pizza place talking on the phone crying. And, I witnessed a mother get sick and faint in a restaurant while her husband and son struggled to help her. NYC police, firemen, and EMT’s arrived to assist. They worked on her while her husband held her wobbly head and her son (who appeared to be about 11) sat across the table and cried. The waiter and an officer kept their hands on his shoulder and tried to reassure him. But, he was terrified. Eventually, the mother was whisked away to an ambulance.

I saw things this time. Really saw things, you know? I wish I didn’t. It was burdensome. But, I did. I saw people this time. Really saw them. I feel like I witnessed life from a whole different vantage point. Some of the things I saw made me want to weep uncontrollably. I felt a sudden sense of urgency and a desire to throw off EVERYTHING that hinders me from seeing things with proper perspective.

I was telling Bryan later that I was afraid to tell the folks I was with how I was really feeling…what I was really thinking. And, the folks I was with were my husband and two of our best friends in the whole world! It’s no slam to them. They would have understood if I explained it. But, I know they want to escape sometimes and have fun. I don’t want to hinder that. We were on vacation, for goodness sake! I’m also scared people will think I have not healed, that I am wallowing in my grief. But, I know with confidence that this is a healthy new place I’m not going to be able to push past. It’s my new normal. Sometimes I am not sure people are ready for the way my life has changed…on the inside. Sometimes I feel like if I told people what I was really thinking that it would be “too much”…even for other Christians. It can be pretty lonely in here.

Regardless of my petty fears and my struggles with pride, I cannot willingly shut down the Holy Spirit. I can’t do that. I cannot look at the world the same anymore! God has given me a rare and beautiful look at things from behind the curtain. I can see foretastes of Heaven—the best of God’s creation, everything He called “good”. I can see sin and its devastation—in myself, in others, in our culture. I can see how God is bringing His plan to fruition--how He is actively drawing people to Himself. I can see opportunities all around me to point others to Him. For me, the veil has been lifted between the temporal and the eternal. I SEE things now. (Mary Beth and Steven Curtis: I get it! Maria…I SEE.)

I am going to do something I haven’t done before: ask for YOUR advice. What do I do with this new way of seeing? What do I do now? I know there may be lots of people reading this and thinking, “What in the world is she talking about?” But, I also know there are many of you who have had your life-altering moment, and now, you, too, SEE. So, what do I do? How do I take my behind-the-scenes look at God’s world and use it for His glory? How do I take my new sense of urgency and turn it away from feeling weird and different and into feeling powerful and vital to the kingdom? (I can kind of answer this for myself…but I would appreciate any commentary…) What do YOU do?

Thank you to those of you who are sharing my journey…those of you who are walking alongside me, seeing things the way I see them. You lighten my load and make my path brighter. We must encourage each other (all the more as we see the Day approaching.)

Bryan: Thanks for “getting me”. You know how I love to be understood. I know I am a big mystery to you sometimes, but you do such a good job of making me feel special. I can’t wait to see how our new vantage point affects what we DO from here on out. Let’s get radical! Let’s go all out!

Kwans: Thank you for going on vacations with Bryan and me. Vacations and other outings that are “fun” for “normal” people bring out my analytical side and make me wonder what God is doing inside of me. Thank you for accepting me just as I am and for walking through grief and transformation with our family. Thank you for working so hard to make me laugh and experience true joy. And, thank you for being willing to look at the stuff other people might want to ignore. Thanks for growing with us.

Dear God, help me to be less interested in being understood than I am in understanding what you have put me here to do. I know it doesn’t have to look normal to everyone else. Help me not to care what everybody else thinks. (I hope I don’t have to pray that prayer for the rest of my life.) God, I wonder why, when the world advises me to grow a “thicker skin”, do you continue to give me a softer and softer heart? I feel naked sometimes. I’m scared of what I will see, but please keep showing me what is behind the curtain. Then, PUHHHHLEEEEEESE tell me what to do about it while I still have breath.

Quit Your Flapping

2011-05-01T10:23:00.004-05:00

Even youths shall faint and be weary, and young men shall fall exhausted;

but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength;

they shall mount up with wings like eagles;

they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.

Isaiah 40:30-31

Ok, so I’ve never seen an eagle up close and personal. But, I have seen hawks. Massive hawks. Wasn’t more than an hour or two after I posted Monday’s blog that I saw them. In our neighborhood, they are a familiar sight. I am intrigued by them. Their sometimes eerie presence also conjures up images of pure freedom. I watched them soaring over roofs, skimming treetops, leaning left and right, gliding slowly lower, almost falling, and then suddenly rising as if by some invisible but powerful force. Surprised, I observed that they were not flapping their wings. Really. Those big birds were traveling large distances, moving up and down, and they were not working at it one bit! I kept watching. An occasional single flap would keep them afloat, but, for the most part, they looked as if they were resting in the sky. I was baffled.

I have never understood flight. On Thursday, I was waiting at the Austin airport to get on a big plane. My flight was delayed (6 hours!) due to some pretty severe weather on the East coast. Not like I needed another reason to be nervous about putting myself into a tin can and hurtling myself through the air at 30,000 feet. I utterly deplore it. I don’t get it. How does a plane stay in the air? A friend who is an aerospace engineer explained it to me once. I have been to the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum. And, I still don’t get it. It is more accurate to say that I don’t believe it! I am not afraid to die. But, I am absolutely, unequivocally afraid to fall. I don’t like the Tower of Terror at Disney World (why is it fun to pretend you are on a haunted elevator that is broken?). I will be honest. Getting on that plane required an immense amount of trust.

Have you ever thought for a minute about how very many things in life require our trust? Not only did I have to suspend disbelief that a plane that heavy could get off the ground, but I had to trust that the people who built the plane and who maintain it had done their jobs well. Every time we drive on the highway, we trust that other drivers will stay in their lanes. Last week, I paid an electrician an exorbitant amount of money to fix a short in a breaker. I think he most certainly overcharged me for his 20 minute stint at my house. But, what do I know about the value of an electrician? All I know is that a whole wall of plugs didn’t work, and I didn’t know how to fix it. Have you ever taken your car in for a tune-up? Gotten that long list of things they just “have” to do to your vehicle before you leave? Seen the bill? How do you know they are telling you the truth? I, for one, know I don’t. I have to trust they are getting a fair wage, and I have to trust that when they put new tires on my van they did it right and those very same tires won’t just fall off three miles down the road.

As I write, I am about to get in a New York City taxi cab and travel back to the Newark airport. Talk about trust! I will be hopping into a car with a strange man I may not share a language with to go to a place with which I am completely unfamiliar. Have you seen how crazy these drivers are?! I am surprised there are not more pedestrian fatalities in NYC. The cab drivers actually speed up when they see someone crossing the street.

The list goes on. Truth is, life is just one trust exercise after another. We don’t realize it because we are conditioned to go about our business and accept the way things are. Besides, if you think about it too hard, you get paralyzed by fear.

If my life in the last few years has taught me anything, it is that we are all—each and every one--under the illusion that we have control. We claw for a sense of power because we feel too vulnerable when we realize how very little control we have over our lives. Life’s not all about me and my own success, ability, strength, striving, and plans. I am not the only variable. I have no choice but to trust.

This makes me uneasy. And, if you are honest, it makes you uneasy, too. I like to know what to expect. I want to have at least a reasonable expectation of what is going to happen. I like to think that if I try harder, work harder, and think harder that it will make a difference. Maybe it will. Maybe it won’t. People are not always trustworthy. Sometimes they make mistakes. Sometimes they cheat you. They are dishonest. They are weak. They cannot see into the future. People are not fully trustworthy. Things are not reliable. They break. They deteriorate. Things are not fully trustworthy.

So, how do I face my life and its uncertainties? How do I get on the plane, so to speak?

I can play the game of odds. It is very unlikely that my plane will fall out of the sky. More people die in car accidents. Look how many planes fly every day and get where they are going.

I can rely on intellect. I can go and interview my engineer friend again and get all the facts about physics…learn about lift…better grasp that it is a good thing for the wings of the plane to flex wildly in the wind so they won’t break.

I can distract myself. I can play my music, read, doodle, write, do anything and everything not to think about the ugly truth: I am not in control of the plane.

Or, as my psychiatrist suggested several years ago, I can medicate myself before a flight. I know some people need this, but my doctor suggested it even though I didn’t mention a thing about being scared to fly. She just assumed that since I was on anti-anxiety drugs already I would need more for a flight! She could not have been more wrong. I refused her oh-so-kind offer. Even if I had taken drugs to numb the jitters, I would have been ignoring my inner battle with trust.

Don’t we all ignore that inner battle with trust? At least sometimes?

This week a dear friend of mine had another heartbreaking miscarriage. I cannot begin to tell you how sad I am for her to have to walk down this path…again. I love her heart and her courage and her willingness to be shaped by her pain. She is really battling through this experience with authenticity and faith. As we sat having lunch, she told me something interesting about her grief process. Shortly after she became aware that the baby’s heartbeat had stopped, she felt a deep desire to organize her home. She made some real progress over the weekend, sorting her kids’ toys and getting things in order. She felt a great sense of accomplishment after she had put her energy into de-cluttering. It was, as I saw it, a really healthy thing for her to do with herself. But, she told me something that struck me:

“Admittedly,” she said, “I was reaching for a sense of control. I just wanted to feel like I had power over something.” How honest! And, oh, can I identify! Can’t you?

Nothing is at all wrong with what my friend did to soothe her pain. She has most certainly addressed her inner battle with trust, time and again. If she hadn’t, she wouldn’t even be aware that her frenzied cleaning was an attempt to control her situation…if even just a little. But, I wonder…How many people spend a LIFETIME doing this kind of self-soothing and never explore the real source of their fear? How many people rely on self-sufficiency, the game of odds, intellect, distraction, or drugs of some kind to dull the ache of vulnerability? I fear that many wounded people are walking around still unaware that they need someone in whom they can place all of their trust—someone 100% trustworthy.

If life is truly all about trust, then it is ALL about learning to trust God. Not an easy task, my friends…even for a Christ-follower. You see, growing in trust with God is only possible as we grow in intimacy with Him. We must KNOW Him in order to trust Him. There is far too much pain in the world, far too much uncertainty, far too much that is unexplained to place our trust all nilly-willy like in a God we don’t know. So, I have no problem when people say that they don’t believe in or trust God. Of course they don’t. They don’t know Him. I wouldn’t trust Him either.

But, here’s the thing: I do know Him now. The Bible says He is near to the broken-hearted. It is so true. I have sought Him in my pain, and I have found Him. That is another promise of the Word. Those who seek Him find Him. I will be honest with you. I am not in love with God’s plan for my life. In fact, I hate a lot of what He has allowed. But, He has also given me much to be grateful for…and I cannot ignore that. I am most thankful that I am now confident of His eternal plan for those who love Him. Yes, I know Him…more every day. And, I am learning to trust Him. Psalm 91:4 says that His faithfulness is a shield. I can’t honestly explain the rest of the Psalm, but I do identify with the writer’s understanding that God’s faithfulness is his protection. I can trust God because He is faithful. I still have trouble getting on that plane. And, I don’t like feeling vulnerable any more than the next guy. But, I know now that those other methods of self-protection just don’t work. I have no choice but to trust God.

If you don’t know God intimately, may I invite you to seek out who He really is? I have found that the God of the Bible is absolutely trustworthy. That doesn’t mean we won’t suffer. ..even more than we already have. But, I believe that God’s plan for us and His great love for us will far outweigh the troubles we see in this life. “For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.” (Romans 8:18) As Christians, that is the truth we profess. And, it is the ONLY thing that compensates for our pain. It is the only thing that soothes our vulnerability and conquers our inner battle with trust.

You see, many people will tell you that the answer lies in being tough and smart. Only the weak need God. Only the stupid believe in Him. On the contrary! I believe with all my heart that the smartest among us…the strongest…are the ones who are the most surrendered. Look again at the eagle (ok, the hawk!). Watch how he soars. He does not grow weary or faint. He relies on the invisible power beneath him. He has quit his flapping.

A Lifetime of Mondays

2011-04-25T13:57:00.001-05:00

It took two whole days to prepare for our family Easter gathering. We worked in the yard tirelessly like little ants to make the back porch more beautiful and cleaned like mad to make our home more welcoming. We grocery shopped and cooked and decorated and prepared. It was worth it, for we truly enjoyed our day. Worship was sweet. What day is happier for a Christian than Easter? And, our family time was precious. What is more heartwarming than watching cousins dye eggs, decorate cookies and play together with bunnies in the back yard? Easter Sunday is full of hope and joy and promise.

But, alas, it is Monday. Today my house lies in the wake of our celebratory feast. Discarded jelly beans and bits of Easter grass are blowing around my back yard. Candy wrappers and mismatched plastic Easter egg halves are strewn across the floor of the girls’ rooms along with their soiled Easter dresses. There are dishes in the sink and leftovers in my fridge that I cannot possibly eat by myself this week. Now, I sit alone in the quiet of a cloudy morning pondering that first Easter “Monday”.

Friday left the disciples (and all who had hoped Jesus was the Messiah who had come to save Israel) disillusioned. Bereft. Completely desolate. What had happened? Had they been misled? What now?

Saturday was a day sandwiched in between utter despair and the coming victory. No one understood or believed fully everything Jesus had said would happen. They didn’t expect what was coming next.

Sunday was full of the most exhilarating joy imaginable. But, for some, it left unanswered questions. Could this possibly be? What does it mean?

After Jesus’ resurrection, Acts 1:3 says that He, “…presented himself alive to them (the apostles) by many convincing proofs, appearing to them during 40 days and speaking about the kingdom of God.” The four gospels detail some of the different accounts of the interactions of Mary, Mary Magdalene, Peter, Thomas and the other disciples with the risen Christ. Two of the gospels (Mark and Luke) and Acts tell of the ascension.

And, then there was “Monday”. Since 40 days passed between the resurrection and the ascension, I am not really sure what day of the week it was, but it must have at least felt like a Monday! Just imagine for a moment that you were there. Jesus had taught among your people, showed himself to be a prophet. You thought He might be the Messiah…the king who had come to save your people. Then, He was condemned to die a most gruesome and humiliating death. You questioned everything you had started to believe. Then, two days later He came back to life! He appeared to you and taught you some more. He gave you a task: tell everyone about me! Be my witnesses to the ends of the earth. (Acts 1:8) Oh, and by the way, I’m taking off. Don’t worry, though, I will give you what you need. The Holy Spirit will come to help you. Wait on Him. Stay in the city of Jerusalem until He empowers you. (Luke 24:49) Even though you can’t see me, I will be with you until the end of the age. (Matthew 28:20b)

Then, as He is taken up to Heaven through the clouds and out of your sight, two men in white clothes tell you that Jesus will come back in the same way you have seen Him go. (Acts 1:11) But, as you go about your days rejoicing and doing what Jesus told you to do, you encounter opposition…persecution. Maybe you even face death for obeying Jesus’ commands. You receive the power of the Holy Spirit to do miraculous and amazing things, but still He does not return. You get up every morning and gaze back into the sky and wonder: Will He really do what He said He would do? When will He come for me? When will He set things straight?

Figuratively, it is still “Monday” in our world. We live between the ascension and the return of Jesus. And, we wait. We exist in the aftermath of a big celebration. It is the “morning after”, so to speak. We sometimes experience the classic emotional let-down that comes afterward. Sure, I know that Jesus rose again. I am so glad He is alive and active in my day to day affairs. But, I am still waiting on Him! I am empowered by the Holy Spirit to do amazing things as I obey Jesus’ last command (tell others!), but there is unfinished business here that only Jesus himself can accomplish when, like the men in white proclaimed, He comes back in the same way he went into Heaven. And, oh how I hate to wait.

Don’t you? I don’t know a single person who could truthfully say, “I just LOVE to wait on things!” In our flesh, we are simply not capable of waiting joyfully. Take children, for example. A couple of weeks ago, my girls wanted to try buying toys online. Bryan and I let them, educating them about the added expense of shipping. They paid us cash from their piggy banks for their desired prizes. Caroline ordered a Zhu Zhu Pet Pizza Parlor, and Mary Claire ordered Squinkies. Every day that passed brought the expected questions: “Mom, did our package come yet?” It was SO hard to wait! It only took three days, but it seemed like an eternity to them.

On the day the box arrived at our door, I picked the girls up from school. They, of course, asked again, “Mom, did our package come yet?” This time, I happily said that it had indeed come and that they could open it as soon as we got home. They ran in the door and ripped open the box, plotting what they would do with their toys once they got their hands on them. But, when we opened the box, only the Zhu Zhu Pizza Parlor was inside. Along with it was a note that read, “Partial shipment”. In other words, Mary Claire’s Squinkies would be arriving in another box on another day. Oh, the tears that were shed! You would not have believed it! “Mom, it’s not fair! It’s never going to come! Never!” It is simply not in our nature to wait.

We can make light of the tears of a little girl who has everything in the world and can’t wait one more day for a silly toy, but we are not much different. I would venture a guess that almost everyone is waiting on something right this very minute. And, it isn’t easy. We may have worldlier or smaller things we are waiting on, but we also have some really big, important things we long for that we cannot have right now. Waiting has been the theme of April in my world, and maybe that is why this topic is on my heart. I have been called on time and again this month to counsel with people I love who are waiting. ..waiting on the sale of a home and the dream of retirement with family to become a reality… waiting on the birth of a baby who was wanted for 9 years and who was overdue…waiting 8 weeks on the homecoming of a precious preemie from the NICU…waiting on the outcome of a pregnancy that wasn’t going as planned and now waiting on God’s comfort for the devastating loss of miscarriage…and me, waiting to be reunited with my child in Heaven (I may be waiting for a while longer!).

Yes, we stand in the gap between the ascension and the second coming. And, Lord, we are waiting!! A couple of weeks ago when we were riding in the car on the way to church, a song came on the radio. It was a common worship song. Perhaps you know it. “Strength will rise as we wait upon the Lord. We will wait upon the Lord. We will wait upon the Lord.” The song barely got through the chorus before my husband reached over and changed the channel with a grumble. “I hate that song,” he said. “Why?” I asked (wanting to know his heart). “Do you feel like you are waiting on something particular right now?” “Everything,” was his reply.

I get it. I really do. Sometimes I really detest a praise song that looks to make something simple and trite out of something that is so hard to do in the real world. But, I got to thinking about that song more over the next few days. It is a reference, I believe, to Isaiah 40:31.

Amplified Bible (AMP)

But those who wait for the Lord [who expect, look for, and hope in Him] shall change and renew their strength and power; they shall lift their wings and mount up [close to God] as eagles [mount up to the sun]; they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint or become tired.

The Message (MSG)

Why would you ever complain, O Jacob,
or, whine, Israel, saying,
"God has lost track of me.
He doesn't care what happens to me"?
Don't you know anything? Haven't you been listening?
God doesn't come and go. God lasts.
He's Creator of all you can see or imagine.
He doesn't get tired out, doesn't pause to catch his breath.
And he knows everything, inside and out.
He energizes those who get tired,
gives fresh strength to dropouts.
For even young people tire and drop out,
young folk in their prime stumble and fall.
But those who wait upon God get fresh strength.
They spread their wings and soar like eagles,
They run and don't get tired,
they walk and don't lag behind.

I think the main problem with that simple chorus is that the em-PHA-sis is on the wrong syl-LAB-le, if you know what I mean! When we sing the song, the word “wait” is the one that is emphasized. “Strength will rise when we WAIT upon the Lord. We will WAIT upon the Lord.” Yuck! We hate to wait!

But, I guarantee you that for Isaiah, the emphasis was on the word LORD. In other words, even young men will fall, BUT those who wait upon the LORD will get fresh strength. Fresh strength to wait. Fresh, hopeful expectancy. Fresh eyes to look upon this life and its woes in perspective. Fresh hearts that have the courage and the perseverance to continue looking up into the clouds confidently knowing—knowing that we know that we know--Jesus is coming again!

Even though it is still Monday, and the bloom is off of the rose…even though the resurrection and Jesus’ promise to return occurred 2000 years ago and we live in the aftermath on the day after the celebratory feast…even though we endure many hardships…even though we must wait, we must never give up hope!

We must remember that we know the One on whom we wait! And, He is faithful! It won’t be Monday forever.

In the morning You hear my voice, O Lord; in the morning I prepare [a prayer, a sacrifice] for You and watch and wait [for You to speak to my heart]. Psalm 5:3

Wait and hope for and expect the Lord; be brave and of good courage and let your heart be stout and enduring. Yes, wait for and hope for and expect the Lord. Psalm 27:14

Our inner selves wait [earnestly] for the Lord; He is our Help and our Shield. Psalm 33:20

Then [Israel] believed His words [trusting in, relying on them]; they sang His praise. But they hastily forgot His works; they did not [earnestly] wait for His plans [to develop] regarding them, but lusted exceedingly in the wilderness and tempted and tried to restrain God [with their insistent desires] in the desert. Psalm 106:12-14

I wait for the Lord, I expectantly wait, and in His word do I hope. Psalm 130:5

And therefore the Lord [earnestly] waits [expecting, looking, and longing] to be gracious to you; and therefore He lifts Himself up, that He may have mercy on you and show loving-kindness to you. For the Lord is a God of justice. Blessed (happy, fortunate, to be envied) are all those who [earnestly] wait for Him, who expect and look and long for Him [for His victory, His favor, His love, His peace, His joy, and His matchless, unbroken companionship]! Isaiah 30:18

But as for me, I will look to the Lord and confident in Him I will keep watch; I will wait with hope and expectancy for the God of my salvation; my God will hear me. Micah 7:7

We know that the whole creation [of irrational creatures] has been moaning together in the pains of labor until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves too, who have and enjoy the firstfruits of the [Holy] Spirit [a foretaste of the blissful things to come] groan inwardly as we wait for the redemption of our bodies [from sensuality and the grave, which will reveal] our adoption (our manifestation as God's sons). For in [this] hope we were saved. But hope [the object of] which is seen is not hope. For how can one hope for what he already sees? But if we hope for what is still unseen by us, we wait for it with patience and composure. Romans 8:22-25

**I’d like to give a special shout-out to my new friend Kristi Bothur (via the wonder of the internet ) who was apparently inspired by a very similar thought this week. You can read her article “Stuck in Saturday” at http://www.gloryandstrength.com/. She also has a new website and ministry to people who have miscarried or lost children in their first year of life. Visit her at http://www.naomiscircle.weebly.com/. **

Empty

2011-04-18T14:32:00.000-05:00

A room lovingly prepared for a precious arrival,
Arms that encircled a perfect little frame,
A lap that cradled a quiet, thumb-sucking snuggler,
And hands that reassuringly clung to chubby fingers.
For now, are empty.

A closet that contained dreamy dresses and bright pink boots,
Shelves that stored treasured reads like Dora’s Bedtime Stories,
And drawers that housed ruffled socks and the mini-est of mini-skirts.
For now, are empty.

A rocker that cushioned a weary mama who faithfully prayed,
And a bed that peacefully nestled a busy girl after a full day of play.
For now, are empty.

A car seat where two little arms rose to worship,
One that endured a tiny leg’s rhythmic kicking,
That sacred spot where a tired baby finally dissolved into blissful sleep time & again.
For now, is empty.

A chair reserved at a table previously set for five,
A fuzzy, mismatched carpet square in a carefree Sunday school classroom,
A toddler-filled doll stroller lovingly pushed through the kitchen by motherly big sisters.
For now, are empty.

A hallowed place in every family portrait,
The third tier in a stair-step of pure joy.
For now, is empty.

A baby book meant to chronicle lost teeth and birthdays that never came,
And a memory book meant to pass stories, traditions, and wisdom through generations.
For now, are empty.

A basket at the Easter egg hunt with cousins,
An orange plastic pumpkin for Halloween’s trick-or-treat,
A monogrammed stocking wistfully hung on the mantle,
And mailboxes that should contain the Christmas card we can’t bring ourselves to send.
For now, are empty.

An “X” that marks the spot where a miniature ballerina would have danced,
A desk where a kindergartener would have found her name and stored her crayons,
A fold-up chair at some imaginary graduation,
And a pew where the mother of the bride would have shed a different kind of tears.
In this life, are empty.

And…

The tomb,
A cold stone cave where God in the flesh once lay buried,
Formerly a place of deep disillusionment and utter despair.

An empty tomb.

Oh, glorious empty tomb!

Now destroying the curse which bound all men,
Now commanding power over death,
Now shouting hope to an empty world!

Filling arms, hands, and laps.
Filling rockers and beds.
Filling the dinner table and the back seat of the van.
Filling pictures, stockings, and pews.
Fulfilling future dreams.

Promising to restore it all.
Promising to leave only one more thing empty.

In the twinkling of an eye…

A grave.
A modest little grave bathed in tears,
Formerly a place of deep disillusionment and utter despair.

A grave that has been patiently and confidently waiting,
Will someday be victoriously empty.

***********************************************************************************
Hallelujah! He is risen!

Many of you may be sad or lonely or depressed. "How can I celebrate Easter?" you wonder. You're stressed out. Your life is unpredictable. You are suffering. You are grieving. You are disappointed. You are afraid. I get it! This is the battle I face in my own heart and mind constantly. We live in the real world, and things can easily sway us from the truth we profess. I had my cry this morning. Happens every so often. But...take heart! For Christians, Easter is simply the happiest day of the year. I pray you will feel it in the tips of your toes--no matter what. Let us not be dismayed. Let us not look at our circumstances or even at our own lifetimes. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus.

Last week, Mary Claire, looking rather dejected, said to me, "Mom, why hasn't Jesus come back yet? I can bet you He won't be here by Sunday." How honest! She feels like she has been waiting for Him forever! Don't you? But, I told her that we mustn't give up on Him! Until He comes, He has placed us here with great purpose. Every day He delays is another day for people who do not yet trust Him to come to Him and follow. God will not be slow to keep His promise. And, no matter how long we wait, we can be confident that the Jesus who conquered the grave WILL come again!

As you go through this week, no matter your circumstances, will you join me in preparing your heart for worship? Take some time each day to read your Bible and imagine yourself walking along with Jesus in His last week here on earth. Then, when you wake on Sunday, I pray you will grasp the VICTORY in which you now stand in Christ Jesus--victory over death itself!

The angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He is not here; he has risen, just as he said. Matthew 28:5-6a

But do not forget this one thing, dear friends: With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day. The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. Instead he is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance. But the day of the Lord will come like a thief. The heavens will disappear with a roar; the elements will be destroyed by fire, and the earth and everything done in it will be laid bare. 2 Peter 3:8-10

Jesus said, “Very truly I tell you, whoever hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life and will not be judged but has crossed over from death to life...Do not be amazed at this, for a time is coming when all who are in their graves will hear my voice and come out..." John 5:24, 28

For the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. After that, we who are still alive and are left will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And so we will be with the Lord forever. Therefore encourage one another with these words.
1 Thessalonians 4:16-18

And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” Revelation 21:3-4

Happy Easter, brothers and sisters! Because of the empty tomb, we have confident hope!

Happy Birthday, Dear Audrey!

2011-03-28T11:31:00.000-05:00

Happy birthday to my baby! We might as well take a moment to recall the good times. Take a look at some pretty cute pictures of our baby on her first two birthdays:

(I don't even remember how she got the black eye!)

(See how chilled out we were by baby #3...she wasn't even completely dressed at her own birthday party!)

It seems like yesterday that we were baking Audrey’s Easter basket cake when she turned two, and here we are again at another birthday. It’s only the bottom of the second inning (early in the game of living without her), and here is the count: 2 birthdays with and 4 without. Today Audrey would have been six. I always approach major events like birthdays and holidays as if they were like any other day. After all, Audrey has been absent from us all the time for a while now. What makes these “special” days…well… “special”? Even with this practical outlook, something unexpected usually gets me started down the path of grief, and this “special” day was no exception.

I still teach the Sunday school class full of Audrey’s little cohorts. They are in kindergarten now. They are full of life, learning exponentially, spouting some pretty big spiritual truths, and basically exuding “adorable”. Yesterday we recognized our sweet Ella. She has a birthday this week. Our lead teacher gathered Ella in her arms, put a birthday crown on her head, and we all began to sing. Precious, innocent voices filled the air with joyful noise (and a few silly additions to the birthday song…cha, cha, cha!). Ella will turn six years old on Saturday. As we sang, it seemed that time froze. I watched little Ella, surveyed the length of her legs, looked at the expression on her face, drank her in. How big would Audrey be? What would she look like? I closed my eyes and imagined that we were singing to her, too. She would have been in this tight-knit group, and she would have worn that little birthday crown on her head yesterday, too.

While Audrey’s absence is obviously devastating and the thought of what-might-have-been weighs on my heart, I also struggle with what to physically do with days like these. At dinner last night, Bryan asked the girls, “Is there anything you would like to do tomorrow for Audrey’s birthday?” There wasn’t much reply, but even if there was, I am not sure I would have heard it. I immediately withdrew from the table and into my own thoughts. Here came that pesky question again. What do I do with the cemetery? While the girls are at school tomorrow, should I go put flowers on her grave? Do I want to? Several times through dinner, Bryan called to me. “Come back to us, Sarah. Where did you go?” I managed to choke down my nachos and snuggle my Caroline, make some conversation. But I was, indeed, lost.

After we put the girls to bed, the question nagged again. What do I do with the cemetery? I imagined someone casually walking by Audrey’s grave, noticing her birth date on the marker, and wondering, “What kind of parents would not come and put flowers on their daughter’s grave on her birthday?” I know this thought was rather narcissistic. Who is going to walk by today and notice it is Audrey’s birthday? Who would care? Still, these are things that cross my mind. I know some people cannot stay away from the grave of a loved one. They somehow feel closer to their loved one there. Some are opposite. They cannot go because it upsets them. I am 100% in the middle. I am not afraid of it, not put off by it, totally comfortable with it. But, it also holds little meaning to me in this world. I am, quite honestly, baffled by it. Leaving it alone feels wrong—as wrong as walking away from Audrey’s body at the hospital and away from the casket on the day of her burial. A parent does not walk away from her child’s physical body forever. It is unnatural. And, yet, Audrey’s body—for now—no longer needs my care. She is not going to be sad I didn’t come to “visit her”. Is she?

No matter what we decide about the cemetery, we still have to figure out what to do with the rest of the day. How do we celebrate another birthday for a child who is not present with us? Each year, this challenge seems to grow. Friends and family ask in advance, “Are you going to do anything for Audrey’s birthday?” Patiently, they try to keep their calendars clear just in case we get inspired or really want their presence. But, I am running out of ways to make this day seem positive. I am out of the energy it takes to throw another party, prepare food, come up with a message of hope, and communicate it to adults and children alike. I feel the burden (and the responsibility and the desire) to lead those around me in the grief process, to put a truthful (with a capital T) spin on things, to be the author of this story. But, I am admittedly tired today.

On Audrey’s third birthday, we planted a garden in our back yard with family and close friends. It was a lovely way to affirm life. We purchased a red bud tree. It has heart-shaped leaves and blooms in March—a reminder that hope springs eternal.

Here is a picture of the same garden in August of the year we planted it:

When we moved in March of 2009, our first gathering in our new home was Audrey’s fourth birthday party. We bought helium balloons and gave them to our friends and family to release while we sang “happy birthday”. We attached notes. Everyone wrote a personal message—what they would say to Audrey if they could. We baked a cake and blew out candles. I don't know why, but I cannot find one picture of that gathering.

In April of that year, we planned a garden for our new yard. It was an attempt to carry our old one with us. Doing it ourselves was hard work, so we solicited the help of some landscapers. We explained what it meant to us, and they were so kind to re-create it for us. Here is a picture of the precious men who completed Audrey’s new garden:

Last year, on Audrey’s fifth birthday, I don’t even remember what we did. I couldn’t muster up the strength to host a party. I do remember that our friends brought us dinner and ate it with us. And, today, it looks like we will be echoing that low-key kind of remembrance. I have some flowers to finish planting in Audrey’s garden. That task will be a good one. I need some time with my Savior. I need to be with the Source, be reminded of the hope I have. I can’t stay strong without Him. In fact, I am NOT STRONG. I may head to the garden center in a bit to refill the bird feeder with cardinal food. It seems we have attracted a pair of cardinals, and I would love to continue to enjoy watching them.

Later tonight, we are taking the girls to see a movie. I am sure we will find something to stick a birthday candle in as well. Blow it out. Say goodbye to this day and move on with Tuesday, March 29th. That sounds like a relief to me. I know most people won’t read past the first paragraph of this post. Who is brave enough to face their own grief, much less the grief of another? And, I know that I am not offering much encouragement today. You want real? Well, you got it. This is my process, and I have been told people like to see “process”. This, my friends, is what “living out your faith” looks like. It isn’t always pretty. It is jagged and steep and foggy sometimes. And, it is certainly not guided by my own abilities. It is God-led, God-authored, God-grown.

I don’t know what future birthdays will hold, but it seems that, over time, we are drawing in, keeping it close to home. I think of Mary, who “pondered all these things in her heart”. God knows, I think to myself. No one else knows the depth of what I am feeling, but God knows.

So, the count stands at 2 with and 4 without. Looks like we are nowhere near the 7th inning stretch. It’s could be a long game, folks….may go into extra innings. Good news is (yes, I always end with the good news...no matter what I am feeling!)...Good news is, the victory’s a guarantee.

Thank you all for the messages pounding my inbox today. Many of you have been faithful to remember, and that means the world to us. When you think of us, don't forget to contact my husband. Daddies need encouragement, too.

Anticipation

2011-03-22T11:11:00.000-05:00

As a child growing up in Dallas, one of our yearly family outings was a trip to Six Flags Over Texas. On the night before we traveled to the amusement park, I would lie awake dreaming about the thrill of the whole experience: the rides I would venture to try, the foods I would eat, the fun I would have with my parents and my brother. From our home, the drive took about 45 minutes, but it seemed like 4 hours instead! I still remember what it felt like when we made our final approach toward the park and the roller coasters would come into view from the highway. Zach and I would giggle, point, and shout. It was pure, joyful anticipation.

There are few things in life that are more delightful than watching my own kids experience that same anticipation. Last week we spent our spring break at the beach in Port Aransas, Texas, with some good friends. Of the five kids we brought along, only our two had ever seen the ocean. But, because Caroline and Mary Claire were just babies on their first trip, this might as well have been their first time. We drove down to the coast on Friday night, and everyone in our van stayed awake well past bedtime and well after dark just hoping to catch a glimpse of the water. When we arrived, our gaggle of sleepy children gleefully helped unload the cars and set up our fabulous beach house for the week. I have never seen such willingness to work hard! At midnight, once the children were finally tucked into their little beds all in a row, Mary Claire remained awake. When I inquired as to why she wasn’t sleeping yet, she replied, “Mommy, can I go see the ocean tonight? Please??” It was so hard to wait!

You could not have wiped the grin off of their sweet faces the next morning as we prepared to go to the beach. All five children bounced around as we donned swimsuits and hats, pasted bodies with sunscreen, and gathered towels, buckets, and shovels. But, it was their all-out sprint on the boardwalk that got me thinking.

I stood back, watching the children barreling across that boardwalk, and I wondered: When was the last time I was so excited about something that I literally ran toward it with a big fat smile on my face? This particular boardwalk was a long one with sets of stairs at several places along the way. You could not see the ocean from the starting point. But, that did not stop the children from making a break for it the second their little flip-flops hit the wooden bridge. They knew that the boardwalk meant they were closer than ever to the object of their desire: the smooth sand and the cool water. Even though they had never seen it, they wanted to go. They could hear the waves crashing on the shore, and they knew they were close enough to run.

In the wake of a season of intense grief in my own life, some days I am not sure that there is anything left for me to run toward. Sometimes I think I am done here with that kind of joy…that there is nothing on earth that could be exciting enough to anticipate with wonder, stay awake dreaming about, and eagerly pursue. I don’t think I am alone. The older we get, it seems that the things we dreamed about may have come and gone. And, some of those dreams didn’t really pay up, if you know what I mean. Maybe we couldn’t sleep on the night before our weddings because we were dreaming of meeting our handsome prince at the end of the aisle and being whisked away to a life of bliss. Now, I’m not picking on marriage. I would choose my husband again and again. But, we all know that’s not what it is really like now, don’t we? It’s deeper and better than that…if you’re willing to work for it. But, it is harder than that, too. So, the school of life teaches us, over time, not to get our hopes up…not to anticipate anything too highly. If we do, we may be disappointed.

But, something about that mindset just doesn’t jive with my soul! I can’t get my mind off of my children running toward the ocean. Must we give that up? Does growth and maturity really equate with self-protection? My nine-year-old Caroline got stung by a jellyfish while jumping the waves. Up until that painful experience, she probably didn’t even know what a jellyfish was…maybe except for seeing them on SpongeBob cartoons! But, she got up close and personal with one. Ouch! And, I have to tell you, it was a tender job coaxing her back into the water the next day. Who wants to get stung twice? Wisdom says stay out of the ocean, right?

I don’t think so. Real growth, real maturity teaches us that, yeah, there are jellyfish out there, but if you focus on them, you’ll miss the beauty of the waves, the cool sand on your feet, the castles you can create, and the amazing formations the birds make as they glide over the water. As adults, we justify missing these kinds of things every day because of fear. Stop for a second and ponder it. Getting burned once (or twice) has kept us from going places and trying things that might hold joy, and more importantly for us Christ-followers, kingdom purpose. Even if we don’t avoid something altogether, we protect ourselves by keeping our expectations low so that we won’t be disappointed. We pass our fear and cynicism off as “maturity”! How ridiculous! What a loss!

I do think there is middle ground between a childlike perspective and a jaded adult world view. We know about jellyfish now. Sand is sticky and gets in your eyes. Life is full of imperfections. There’s no going back. But, we can have a grounded, mature, Biblical world view. And, there is nothing jaded or cynical about it! This perspective says, “Yep. There are jellyfish. But, God is in that ocean! I want to meet Him there! I want to see Him in it! I want to join Him in what He is doing there!” If I saw my world through those kind of eyes, could I begin to anticipate things with joy once again? Could you?

I am challenged by my children to see the world around me with new eyes, to view the things I think I already know from the perspective of a newcomer. What if I missed something the first time? What if I do not remember it because I was a “baby” the first time I saw it? What if the growth in my heart and soul affords me the chance to perceive things differently now?

I am challenged by the Holy Spirit to see the world around me with new eyes, too. When I go to spend time with God, do I approach His throne of grace with that kind of abandon? Do I run toward Him in joyful anticipation? Do I expect great things from Him? Even when I cannot physically see the object of my desire, do I see the beginning of the boardwalk, hear the waves crashing in the distance, and, knowing it is the path that leads to joy, break out into a sprint? If not, why not?

As I close my eyes and envision myself approaching the boardwalk, a prayer is emerging from the depths of my soul: Lord, I want to see your beauty. I want to see You. I want to see You in the people and the world you created. I want to want You. I want to desire You so much that I cannot sleep. I want to desire You so much that I cannot take a leisurely stroll towards the things you have planned for me. Cause me to move toward you in an all-out sprint! Don’t allow me to fool myself into thinking self-protection is maturity. YOU are my protector! Please cleanse me from the fear and cynicism that have built up in my heart because I have been hurt. Help me to trust you more. Give me joyful purpose that is unquenchable. Give me power that moves me toward even the things I cannot see. Cause me to expect great things once again! In Jesus’ name I pray. Amen.

“Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.” Matthew 5:8

I Gave You My Heart. You Gave Me This Pen.

2011-03-11T10:30:00.000-06:00

Have you ever received a consolation prize? You know, it’s what you get when you enter a contest but don’t win. (Think about that non-descript participation ribbon you “earned” in elementary school on field day.) The very name of the “consolation” prize is unfortunate. There’s really nothing consoling about it. One definition says that a consolation prize is “generally a parting gift offered to contestants who did not win their competition. The purpose of a consolation prize is to console the contestants who can only watch the winner walk away with the big prize.” In other words, a consolation prize is meant to comfort you, or at least distract you from the truth…which is that you LOST!

When I was a child, I remember accompanying my parents to a time-share hard-sell. My young, inexperienced parents brought my brother and me along to sit in the waiting room while they endured what seemed like hours of sales pitch, all for the promised award: a boat with motor. The writing on the letter they received in the mail seemed irrefutable. No matter what they decided about the property, it seemed they would undoubtedly win a “boat with motor”. So, they spent a Saturday in this random building while strangers tried to convince them to buy something they knew they could not afford…all the while hoping to get a boat out of the deal. Zach and I were excited. We could just picture our family cruising on the lake. The hope of that boat somehow made the time in the waiting room a little bit more bearable. I will never forget the look on my parents’ faces when they exited that conference room. Out they trod, alongside a handful of other suckers, lugging a box carrying their big prize: an inflatable raft with a battery operated motor! We had been bamboozled! That raft turned out to be a lot of fun in the swimming pool, but it was not exactly what we bargained for! My now very wise parents would probably be embarrassed by my telling you how they fell for this scheme, but it illustrates my point precisely. A consolation prize isn’t really much consolation after all.

Fast forward to the day my daughter Audrey died. Bryan and I sat in the chaplain’s office, stunned by the news we had received. I was in absolute shock and on the verge of fainting, so the hospital staff brought me a wheelchair. They wheeled me down to the chapel to begin to process our unbelievable reality. I sat in silence, and then I fell to the floor in a puddle of tears. Friends and family began to arrive to wrap their arms around us. I don’t know how long we were there. I remember Bryan leaving the room to talk with the coroner. You know, the stuff of nightmares. I remember coming to the conclusion after a time that we needed to go home. There was nothing left for us at the hospital.

The staff was professional and accommodating. When we decided to leave, they put me back in the wheelchair and took me to our friend’s car. I remember the surprise on the social worker’s face when I profusely thanked her for helping me and praised her and the chaplain for their efforts toward our family. As they lifted me to standing so I could climb into the car, the chaplain placed an orange box in my hand. It was an easily recognizable box, one from James Avery jewelry. As we traveled home, I remember looking at that box incredulously. I left my child at the hospital, and they gave me a piece of jewelry in exchange? It seemed like a very uneven trade…the worst consolation prize ever. I could not get that line from the movie “Say Anything” out of my head. You might remember it. John Cusack’s character falls in love with a beautiful girl, but he gets burned. When she breaks up with him, she gives him a consolation prize Gen X won’t soon forget: a pen. In disbelief, he tells his friend, “I gave her my heart. And, she gave me this pen.” I wanted to shout out the window of the car that day: “I gave you my heart. And, you gave me this pen!”

I was conflicted by the hospital’s gift for quite a while. On the one hand, I was appreciative that Dell Children’s Hospital had done everything in their power to communicate their concern for us and show us their sympathy. On the other hand, the tiny orange box made me raging mad. I didn’t want to open it. I didn’t want to know what was inside. How could it possibly make me feel better? It was an insult! Only minutes before it was placed in my hand, I had lost one of the most valuable things I could have ever lost. The Hope Diamond could have been in that box, and I would have tossed it into the ocean if I could have.

I don’t know if days or weeks passed, but eventually I managed to open that box. Inside, I discovered a silver tree charm. In the center of the tree was a heart-shaped hole. How fitting. A hole. A heart-shaped hole, no less. I immediately began questioning the meaning of the charm. James Avery often assigns meaning to their jewelry, especially their religious items. I had never seen this one before, though. Was it new? I immediately figured that it must be symbolic of our family tree, suddenly missing someone (hence the heart-shaped hole). Yes, a sad, sad family tree.

I will be honest. I didn’t like it at all. In fact, I hated it. I could not imagine actually wanting to attach it to my charm bracelet, only to be reminded of that horrific day at the hospital. What were they thinking? I felt sorry that the hospital had spent money on that charm. I knew it wasn’t cheap. But, I could not assign any comforting meaning to it. It was, indeed, a consolation prize that offered no consolation.

Still, I don’t believe in coincidences. I felt deep down that the Lord had a reason for getting this charm into my hands. So, I investigated further. The next time I shopped at James Avery, I inquired about the charm. Did the designer of the jewelry assign it any meaning? I was told that it was commissioned for the hospital specifically, and James Avery could not tell me what it meant. Great, I thought. I now knew that the only people who get one of these things are those who have the unlucky privilege of losing a child. It was like a membership card for a club I didn’t want to join.

Time went by. I kept that stupid orange box in my closet. Every once and a while, I would catch a glimpse of it out of the corner of my eye, and I would get that sick feeling in my gut. “I hate that thing”, I would think to myself. Nonetheless, I could not bring myself to get rid of it.

Then, one day I was reading what the Bible has to say about the tree of life. In the middle of the Garden of Eden stood the majestic tree. God gave Adam and Eve access to this tree that was “pleasing in appearance and good for food” (Genesis 2:9). However, after Adam and Eve disobeyed God, they were forbidden from eating the fruit of this tree (Genesis 3:22). No big deal, you may think. But, the fruit of the tree of life sustained life forever. It was the equivalent of a death sentence! God was so serious about this punishment that He placed a cherubim with a “flaming, whirling sword” to guard the way to the tree of life (Genesis 3:24). Quite a predicament for mankind, huh?

The tree is not mentioned again in Scripture until the last book of the Bible, the book of Revelation. Jesus, speaking through John to the church at Ephesus, says that He will give the “victor” the right to eat from the tree of life (Revelation 2:7). Who is that victor? According to Revelation 22:14, they are those who keep His commandments. The Bible says that those who love God will obey Him. So, the victors are those who love God, believe in Jesus, and keep His commandments. To them will be given the right, once again, to eat of the tree of life. The death sentence will be removed. Eternal life will be granted. And, it will come by eating the fruit of the tree of life. Where will the tree be located? According to Revelation 22:2, it will grow in the center of the city of New Jerusalem on the New Earth (Heaven as it is after Jesus returns). The fruit of the tree will be for “the healing of the nations”. The tree of life is real. We who believe in Jesus will see it one day and also partake of its fruit. But, it is also a symbol of healing and of eternal life.

Learning this truth was like God turning on the light in the darkness of our traumatic hospital experience. He had, as I had rightly assumed in the beginning, placed that little orange box in my hand for a purpose. He was communicating with me before I was even able to perceive it. He wanted me to know that my heart was not suddenly ripped from my body, though that was the way it felt. Instead, He was helping me to see, perhaps for the first time, that my heart, my real true self, and all of my deepest desires are held safely in the promise of Heaven. In Heaven, there will be healing. And, even in the midst of my pain, the Tree of Life reminds me of God’s provision for me in every moment—from here until eternity. This charm that had plagued me finally communicated HOPE to the depths of my soul.

Is there some area of your life that has been a big disappointment? Have you experienced some great loss? Are you disillusioned by the difference between the way you thought your life would turn out and the way it actually is? Do you feel like you have received the dreaded “consolation prize”—the one set aside to make the losers feel a little bit better? Then, listen, I have hope for you today! If you will trust in Jesus Christ, you will receive a prize that can never be taken away from you. If you trust Christ, you have treasure stored up for you in Heaven that nothing can destroy.

3 Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, 4 and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade. This inheritance is kept in heaven for you… 1 Peter 1:3-4

Heaven, friend, is NOT a consolation prize. It is not the trophy of the losers’ bracket! It is not what we get when life has dealt us difficulty and we can “only watch the winner walk away with the big prize”. Heaven IS the big prize! It is so much bigger and more alive than what we have previously imagined. It is so much broader and more enticing and exciting than what we have conceived. It is not merely relief from all of our burdens, it is the fulfillment of all of our grandest desires!

Believers in Jesus, quit underestimating what awaits you! In so doing, we rob our life of the power and joyful purpose it could have. And, we give non-believers nothing to write home about. Sadly, we misrepresent the faith we claim to believe. We must wrap our mind around the grand prize that we have been given if we want to experience contentment in the midst of disappointment and loss. Moreover, we must joyfully anticipate eternal life if we wish to convince anyone that Jesus is for real—that Christianity is authentic and worth investigating.

When God broke through my grief and showed me the true meaning of that tree with the heart-shaped hole, I rushed over to James Avery and asked that they attach it to my bracelet. And, I asked that they place it right in the middle where I would always see it. Each time I look at it, I am reminded not of the traumatic aspect of the hospital ER, but instead, of how God reached into my most desperate place and put His sovereignty over it. I am reminded how He made Himself known even in the darkest place and how He asserted His dominion, even over death. Now, when I see my “Tree of Life” charm, I am encouraged to think on Heaven, to remember its reward, and to consider the healing that is promised. Today, I rub my fingers over that heart-shaped hole in the tree, and I anticipate embracing in paradise the one who is still holding part of my heart in her hands.

Skeptics, consider: Maybe faith isn’t a crutch for the weak and Heaven isn’t a consolation prize for those whose dreams didn’t pan out. Wonder: Could it all be true?

Believers in Jesus, rejoice! Won’t you quit walking around with your shoulders slumped as if you’ve received the consolation prize?! We are all Grand Prize Winners. It IS all true.

The 99 and the 1

2011-03-03T15:56:00.000-06:00

I am embarrassed to admit that I cried when I found out I was pregnant with Mary Claire. I remember sitting on the rocker in my bedroom, and through sobs saying to Bryan, “Caroline hasn’t had enough time to be the only child.” Caroline was just 10 months old when we found out we were expecting again. In some ways I was still trying to play dolls with her. I was in love, and she was enough. I wasn’t mentally prepared for our family to grow. Surprise! Conflicting emotions popped up. What if I could not love another child as much as I loved Caroline? What if she felt ignored or jealous or squeezed by a new baby in the family?

Many a young parent has had similar feelings. My mother was one of them. When I was born, the “enlightened thinking of the day” suggested that you give your older child a gift from the new baby. This was supposed to help the older child accept the new baby. My grandmother tried to help my mom relax. “Don’t apologize for making Sarah a brother to love,” she said. Still, my parents, trying to be prepared, purchased a purse for me and had it ready upon their homecoming from the hospital. Family lore has it that when my mother tried to offer me the gift, I pushed it aside, pushed her aside, and made my way to my newborn brother. So much for the adult interpretation of three-year-old thought processes…

Now that I know what I know, I feel silly telling you how I fell into that same trap with my own children. None of my fears materialized. When Mary Claire was born, Caroline was 19 months old. She arrived at the hospital to meet her sister in her navy and white sailor dress, toting her own “baby” in a doll-sized carrier. She crawled up into the bed with me, and smiling all the time, she beheld her little sister. It was love at first sight. My daughter, barely walking herself, cradled her infant sister like a pro. Still the most nurturing child I know, Caroline was made to be a big sis.

When we discovered Audrey’s surprise conception, we were not gripped at all by the fear that she would rob our other two of their time in the spotlight. We knew they would love each other deeply and become best buddies. When Audrey was born, Caroline and Mary Claire were still so small (3 and 1 ½), but they were in awe of our amazing gift. As they sat in the hospital room and inspected our newest family member (umbilical cord stump, tiny feet and all), I knew in my heart that our love had been multiplied, not divided. Sure, our time and money would be divided once more, but not our love.

Having all three of them was like Heaven. Seriously. I’d like to share some pictures of my “best day ever” with you (that’s a shout-out to you, Mary Claire…Little Miss “This-is-the-BEST-DAY-EVER!”). I know there are more good days to come. But, the day we took Audrey home from the hospital will always be one of my fondest memories. It was a gorgeous spring day, not unlike today…sunny, breezy, and mild. All was right with my world. The peace and joy I felt were indescribable…a foretaste of Heaven. Caroline and Mary Claire came dressed in their “big sister” t-shirts to escort us home. We went out to lunch, and then we went to play at the park. As my mom and I sat on the park bench admiring Audrey in the afternoon sunlight filtered through the shade of giant oaks, Bryan and the girls chased each other through tunnels and sifted gravel with their hands. Why, in my rocking chair, in the privacy of my bedroom, had I ever wondered if I could love another child? My cup ran over. I had all my little chicks gathered in my arms.

In the few years that followed that moment in time (maybe in the hours that followed), I discovered that meeting the needs of three children that small was demanding. My hands were indeed full! But, my heart had plenty of room. My girls learned from the beginning to share and take turns. If I was busy, they had each other. If one cried, I comforted. If one was hungry, I fed her. If one needed a snuggle, I offered a lap. If one had a question, I answered. It was never even, but no one seemed slighted. It was challenging work, but I treasured each one of my children.

I had no reason to think that my “rocking chair question” would ever resurface. But, when I faced Audrey’s sudden death, I began to question again, “Do I have enough love to go around?” My grief required so much of me that I was afraid I would unwittingly harm Caroline and Mary Claire…somehow not give them enough of me.

Like the voices of the baby advice books rang in my mother’s ears, the voice of well-meaning neighbors and friends echoed in my ears for a long time after Audrey’s death. People, jaded by their own experiences or those they had “heard of”, advised me to “go on” for my living children. No less than four days after Audrey’s death, I remember wailing in grief, “She was just so perfect. She was beautiful and healthy and perfect.” This comment came out of my very gut. It was an expression of my confusion at the sudden death. How could my adorable little girl have been so alive one moment and gone the next? Instead of hearing my heart and offering me comfort, one loving family member, wanting to be helpful, warned me that calling Audrey “perfect” might make Caroline and Mary Claire think that they are somehow less than perfect. If I recall the situation correctly, there was a story behind the admonition. An adult friend she knew still had issues with feeling unloved because of her mother’s grief over the death of a sibling. It was heartbreaking for me to hear this story. I didn’t love Caroline and Mary Claire less because I wanted Audrey back! I didn’t think I needed to worry whether they would be harmed by my grief. Did I need to be? Was I going to miss something important? Would I be able to meet their needs and also meet my own? There was enough emotional space in our family for three children a few days ago. Wasn’t there still enough space for three now?

As the weeks and months rolled on, these questions nagged at me in the quiet moments. I could not seem to reconcile the need to continue loving Audrey with the fact that I had no tangible way to do it. I could no longer brush her hair or rock her to sleep. I could not make her a plate at the dinner table or read her a book. Though I appeared to have only two children to care for, in my heart, I still had three. How could I show my love for Audrey? And, would doing that make my other children feel less important?

Here is my journal entry from February 28, 2008, only three short months after Audrey died:

“I’ve thought of this before, but I’m not sure I wrote it down yet…So many days I find myself just checking out…longing for Audrey. Sometimes I think I’d do anything—anything—to go to her. I often feel guilty about this. After all, I do have a lot here to be grateful for…people and things I am responsible for and love. But, there is this overwhelming need to take care of the one I can’t get to. I can’t even count the number of well-meaning folks who’ve told me I’ve got to “go on” for my husband and kids. Not necessarily in so many words, but that’s the gist. And, still, I’m longing for the one who’s missing.”

In that same entry, I mentioned a Bible story that brought me great comfort. Today, three years later, it still makes my heart skip a beat. It is a story you probably know…one that, to me, reflects the essence of the Father’s heart for each of us, His immeasurable love for us. It is the parable of the lost sheep (Matthew 18:12-14).

“What do you think? If a man owns a hundred sheep, and one of them wanders away, will he not leave the ninety-nine on the hills and go to look for the one that wandered off? 13 And if he finds it, truly I tell you, he is happier about that one sheep than about the ninety-nine that did not wander off. 14 In the same way your Father in heaven is not willing that any of these little ones should perish.”

Let me set up the scene for you. Before Jesus tells the parable, His disciples have just asked him, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of Heaven?” (Matthew 18:1). Can you imagine what Jesus was thinking? (Oh, for goodness’ sake! When are these people going to get who I am? When are they going to get what I came to do?)

Jesus knew He was going to need a visual aid to get through to His disciples as He answered them, so He called over a child. I can just imagine Jesus, standing amongst the men, extending His arm out to that child and drawing her close. I can see Him putting His hands on her shoulders, pointing to her, and stating emphatically, “If you don’t become like this little child right here, you will not even enter the kingdom of Heaven!” (v. 3). Bet that’s not what the disciples expected to hear!

Jesus always taught in allegory. And, what He said almost invariably meant more than one thing at once. That was one of the reasons His followers’ heads were always spinning. In this case, Jesus wanted the disciples to see how important children are to Him, but more than that, He wanted them to see themselves as little children. Jesus wanted the disciples to see themselves in relationship to Him. He spoke as a loving father to His children.

As I read the parable of the lost sheep in my grief, I absorbed it on two levels. I identified with both the parent role and the child role in the story…both the role of the protector and the one who needed protecting. Perhaps you can, too. Notice that this man owns a hundred sheep. Only one of them has wandered away. Ninety-nine of his sheep are near, accounted for, and under his watch care. What is one little sheep? Apparently, that one little sheep is irreplaceable. For, the man leaves the 99 and goes out on the hill looking for the one that is lost. Think about it. Might that involve some risk to the 99 on the hill? Was there anyone there to watch over them while he left? I don’t know. But, I love what this desperate action communicates. It says that this shepherd did not just feel sad about the missing sheep. He didn’t just say, “Oh, well. That really stinks. I hope he is o.k. I sure hope he comes back safely.” No! On the contrary, that shepherd dropped everything to go out and look for the sheep! The shepherd’s response involved not just feelings, but action. He went in pursuit of the one that was lost.

I know sheep aren’t people, but if they could think and interact like we do, what do you suppose the 99 were thinking while the shepherd was out looking for the lost sheep? Let’s just assume this lost sheep was a brother of theirs. Do you think they were all grumbling? “Seriously? There he goes again chasing after our brother when he could be spending time with us!” Or, do you think they were expressing loving concern? “I sure hope the shepherd finds our brother. I am scared for him and don’t want him to be lost!” What do you think the shepherd’s actions toward the 1 communicate to the 99 about his love for each of them? Maybe they realize if any one of them was lost, he would look for them, too. Maybe they don’t feel jealous. Maybe, instead, they feel deeply loved.

This parable speaks volumes into my grief. I am reassured that within the bounds of a healthy, attentive relationship with Caroline and Mary Claire, no amount of time given to Audrey (even in her absence) is going to make them feel unloved. In fact, I cannot think of a better way to communicate my love for them than to authentically show them how I would feel, think, and act if they were taken away from me. Over time, my behavior will teach them how very important they are. Sharing time with Audrey was and is normal for them. Sharing me with Audrey was and is normal for them. Their place in the family is secure. And, her place in the family is secure, too. She still requires our time and energy. How, you may ask? We talk about her. We talk about where she is, what life would be like if she were here. We celebrate her birthday. We talk to her, pray for her, talk to God on her behalf. “Send things to her” by balloon. Bryan and I speak to anyone who will listen about Heaven and eternal perspective. We cry. I write. We take family pictures and try to put something in them to represent her. We hang her stocking at Christmas. And, we are just getting started. We will always include her in our life, and that will enhance, not diminish the life Caroline and Mary Claire have left to live. I am as confident of the goodness of this as I am about the goodness of bringing her home to my family in the first place.

Best of all, letting my little girls see the deep pain I have over the loss of our Audrey will eventually convince their hearts of God’s relentless pursuit of them. He will NEVER quit coming after them. As a loving father, He wants them near, accounted for, and under His watch care. Even if there are 99 others safe in His arms, God will risk everything to rescue them.

Jesus is the kind of God who embraced a little child and said, “This is what I’m talking about.” Do you know that Jesus? Unless we turn to Him like little children to a loving father, we will not see the kingdom of Heaven. Won’t you turn around and start running toward Him? Jesus said, “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you were not willing.” (Matthew 23:37, Luke13:34) It broke Jesus’ heart that people did not run to Him. Still does. He has a longing to gather his children together, just as I did on the day I brought Audrey home from the hospital. He wants us all in His arms. But, some of us are still not willing. And, He lets us make the choice. The love I feel for each of my children is so intense. I cannot imagine how an all-powerful, all-knowing, all-loving creator God must feel about me…and about you. I can’t imagine what pain it causes Him for us to be far away from Him. Won’t you accept His love for you today?

Some of you who are reading have still not chosen to see yourselves as little children in need of rescue. You do not acknowledge Jesus as Lord of your life. Still, He is your Father. And, He will never stop pursuing you. He may have many of us already under the umbrella of His care, but His love for each He has created is so strong, it is as if no one else ever existed but YOU. He will leave the 99 and come looking for you…not just if you get lost…but, even if you are running away from Him. And, He will be happier when He finds you than He is about the 99 who did not wander off (v. 13). This doesn’t diminish the love He has for those who already acknowledge Him! Instead, it reveals His love for redemption! And, when I finally see Audrey in Heaven, my mother’s heart will likewise rejoice. It is all redeemed!

I admit I stole the idea for the picture above from Angie Smith (author of the blog "Bring the Rain" and of the book "I Will Carry You"). But, I could not resist it. Doesn't a picture speak what a heart cannot? Doesn't this picture communicate what my mouth will never be able to utter? Dearly loved child of God, there is a place reserved for you that no one else can fill. Won’t you wake up to God’s relentless pursuit of you? Won’t you let that encourage your soul today? There may be 99 on a hill, but to God, YOU are the 1.

Dem Bones (The Finale): Getting Back on Track

2011-02-23T14:02:00.000-06:00

I am coining a new term: “Sarah’s Law”. While Murphy’s Law says “anything that can go wrong will”, Sarah’s Law says, “If you try to give other people advice about something, you will struggle with that same thing next week!” It is God’s way of keeping me very, very humble. Case in point: As soon as I started writing my “Dem Bones” series, my whole family got the flu. One by one, we all succumbed to the illness. This was not a bug we could “push through”. It landed us on the couch…for three weeks. What happened to the gym? Skipped it. What happened to eating healthy? Forget about it. If it sounded good, I ate it. It’s no big deal to take a break from life for a while, but, for me, getting out of my routine sends me down a slippery slope. Even though I am no longer sick with the flu, the beginning of this week has been rough. My body is tired and weak. I want to bake a lot of brownies…which only make me feel weaker. And, I have been praying myself out of bed in the morning…again.

So, today I trudged into the OB/GYN’s office for my annual exam and announced, “I want to feel strong and healthy! Some things with my metabolism are still off. When I get sick, it knocks me down more than it should. I have to eat perfectly in order to feel good. I had a cup of coffee yesterday and my left hand shook violently until 3 p.m. Let’s explore my hormones to see if things are just right.” I’ll be honest. I really don’t want to see a bunch of doctors again. I don’t want to take medicine. But, I want to do what God is calling me to do. I want to be good at my life. I want to enjoy it. And, it is still really hard for me to feel healthy. Perhaps I will discover that one of my hormone or vitamin levels is off a bit. If not, then I will decide it is my lot to avoid certain foods permanently and exercise religiously. I can accept that. But, there is one thing I will not do ever again: give up the fight!

I have determined through all of my various stresses and losses that maintaining a healthy physical body is like pushing the “easy button”. You’ve seen the advertisements for Staples office supplies, right? Their tag line is “Staples. That was easy.” Their “easy button” ad campaign features situations when it would really rock if you could just push a button to make things simpler. Isn’t life like that? In the last 10 years I have often wished that I could push the easy button. Sometimes things can be so complicated. In my temporal life on this earth, the closest thing I have found to the easy button is prioritizing my physical health. When I am healthy, it seems I have just pushed the easy button. I have more energy, I have more motivation, I am more easily inspired, I have more patience, I have more mental clarity, I can make better decisions, I am less apt to become irritable, I feel more hopeful, I can forgive more, I can love more, I can sacrifice more, I can more easily act on my faith, and I have more of a desire to live the victorious, adventurous, joyful Christian life I was MEANT TO LIVE!

Don’t you want those things, too? As Christians, don’t we want a way to make doing what God is calling us to do a little bit more effortless? Then, take care of your body! Listen, I know we are not 100% in charge of our health. My mother-in-law died of brain cancer, and she lived a physically healthy and spirit-filled life. We don’t know why she got cancer. She couldn’t have done anything to prevent it. And, she couldn’t have done anything more to fight it. She had three brain surgeries and endured rounds of chemotherapy. She prayed and truly believed God would heal her. And, she died. I am not under the illusion that if we just do things right and try a little harder then we will be unscathed. My point is that many of us are making choices on a daily basis that hurt our physical health. I am concentrating here on what we DO have some influence over. Maybe not control, per se, but influence. If you could influence your health for the better and could essentially push the easy button on your life, wouldn’t you want to do that? You may have to make some sacrifices. But, I challenge you to think about what you have to gain. What would your spouse have to gain? How about your children? Even more importantly, I challenge you, Christian brothers and sisters, to think about what the kingdom of God has to gain.

Consider the apostle Paul’s words:

“Though I am free and belong to no one, I have made myself a slave to everyone, to win as many as possible…Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever. Therefore I do not run like someone running aimlessly; I do not fight like a boxer beating the air. No, I strike a blow to my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize.” 1 Corinthians 9:19, 24-27

Why, then, do we discipline our bodies and care for them? Of course, to honor God’s Holy Spirit who lives in us, but, also to bring our own spirits into a place where we can be better used of God. When we take care of our bodies, our blinders are removed and we can see more clearly what God’s will is for our lives. We are also better equipped to win others to Christ and to “get a crown that will last forever”.

I know God wants me to be in tune with Him. He wants me to start seeing the world from His eyes. He wants me to use the gifts He gave me to show others who He is. And, He has given me lots of day to day responsibilities—not to mention lots of junk to heal and recover from! He knows I need to be healthy (body and spirit) to do this well. Again, not just to survive it all, but to be victorious.

In the past, my physical health was the one area of my life I would let slide when I got stressed out or busy. This is still my default mode of operation if I am not vigilant. I used to think that eating unhealthy foods or leaving exercise off of my to-do list was “cutting myself some slack”, when, in actuality, it was abusing my body. Now, when I need to cut myself some slack, I try to leave laundry unfolded (or unwashed!), to cook scrambled eggs for dinner instead of a gourmet meal, to send a birthday present a week late, to opt out of a planned social engagement, or to (horrors!) skip the kids’ homework until we all feel like we can accomplish it with a good attitude. Not much really has to be done in a given day. We are tempted to live under the tyranny of the urgent. But, that is a choice. And, to the best of my ability, I choose to do whatever it takes to cut other things out so that I can care for my body and the bodies of those I love. By the time I have attended to that and to the spiritual well-being of my household, there is little time left over. I have to be choosy these days. So do you.

I have by no means got this all figured out. For me, it’s about not falling off the truck permanently. When I lose my way, I find it again. This time, I don’t have a goal except to keep going. God knows there are a lot of things we cannot influence, like genetics and certain kinds of disease. But, with God’s help, we can quit putting apple juice in our gas tank. We can do the regular maintenance that makes it more likely our engine will keep running throughout the fullness of God’s plan for us—all the days he planned for us before any of them yet existed (Psalm 139:16).

Do you need to make a change to get back on track? If you have fallen off the truck, don’t give up! With God’s help, you can prioritize your body again.

I pray God will give YOU all you need to take care of dem bones and live victoriously today!

Lord, please help us to honor you with our bodies. Help us to see them as important to you. We admit we are helpless to change ourselves. We need you to order our steps. Take each part of us into your perfect will so that we may please you and also enjoy the adventurous, exciting, purposeful life you have planned for us to live. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Dem Bones (Part 4): Plato, Pop Culture, and You

2011-02-17T10:59:00.000-06:00

Does it bother anyone else that Victoria’s Secret parades half-naked girls with angel wings down a runway on primetime television? There’s nothing wrong with lingerie, but these ads sell more than pretty things to wear in private. And, can’t we be our own models in the bedroom? Why do we need to see it on a 20-year-old waif first? Rephrase: Why does my husband need to see it on a 20-year-old waif first? And, don’t get me started about the angel thing. Angels are real, but I bet they don’t wear push-up bras. Say I’m overreacting, but I am finally using my head to think about things like this instead of just accepting everything that comes shooting out of my television screen. Hooray for Victoria’s Secret for blurring the lines between mainstream values, Christianity, and soft pornography.

How about the new commercial for theladders.com? It pokes fun at $100,000 wage-earners in an ad where nerdy execs pose in “provocative” positions. I use that term lightly. There is intentionally nothing really provocative about these folks. In the ad, theladders.com promises to make job-seekers “more attractive” to companies. I will give it to them: it IS pretty funny. My first reaction was a giggle. But, then I felt kind of icky inside. It took me a while to sort out why it rubs me the wrong way. I have a sense of humor, and I really appreciate creativity. This ad inspires both, but it still bugs me. Maybe it is because a company that says it exists to help professionals attain high-paying jobs has stooped to the same low-brow tactics as everyone else in America. This isn’t a moral judgment, but it is social commentary. As they say, sex sells. If marketers aren’t using sex to get your attention, then they are appealing to your desire for beauty, strength, and health. Everything today is guaranteed to satisfy your cravings, make you look younger, and help you live longer. Look around you. What is for sale now that doesn’t have anything to do with your physical body in some way? You won’t find much. There is no doubt about the message of the world: your body matters.

It is striking to me that the message of the world is also the message of the Bible…but with a twist. Make no mistake, your body matters to God, too. Remember? You are nephesh—spirit joined with body. God made you in His image and even chooses for His Holy Spirit to dwell within the bodies of those who believe in Jesus. But, all you have to do is open a magazine or turn on the TV to see that Satan has taken something God made and called “good” and perverted it.

The world says that your value lies primarily in the physical. Whether we are willing to admit it or not, we are often seduced by this message. We feel the pull to be prettier, sexier, younger looking. But deep down, as Christians, I think we know that the emphasis on the physical in our culture is unbalanced. And, as we should, we want to counter that emphasis. We often do that by championing the “spiritual”. After all, it is the inside that counts, right? Truth, indeed…but not the whole truth. I think our disdain for the all-out worship of things like beauty, health, and sex in our culture can cause us as Christians to proverbially “throw the baby out with the bathwater”. We figure we need to show the world that we operate on a “higher” plane. So, we go out of our way to prove that physical things are beneath us and are unimportant. But, are we really presented with such a black and white choice? Do we really have to choose between worship of the physical and the renunciation of it? I don’t think so. There is a healthy, biblical middle ground. But, we have trouble seeing it because of a Greek guy named Plato.

Over time, theological doctrine has been influenced by culture. We would do well to be on our guard and be aware of the ways in which our culture subtly and not-so-subtly shapes our understanding of Scripture. While the Bible and its truth are unchanging, the interpretation of them is not. The influence of the green movement on current-day theological thought proves my point. While stewardship of the earth is a biblical value, the secular green movement has begun to target churches in propagandizing its message. And, some of that message is decidedly unbiblical. The same thing is taking place with the concept of social justice and with the issue of abortion. Legitimate Christian denominations are currently divided over these topics. If we are not careful, we can twist biblical truth just a little bit in order to make it fit into the popular thinking of the day, and this can have a profound impact on generations that follow…

…Such is the case with the concept that the physical realm is inherently evil and the spiritual realm is inherently good. It is an old idea with insidious and long-standing influence in the church, even today. Consider these excerpts from Randy Alcorn’s Heaven:

“In Plato’s statement, ‘Soma sema’ (‘a body, a tomb’), he asserts that the spirit’s highest destiny is to be forever free from the body.” (p.476)

“Plato, the Greek philosopher, believed that material things, including the human body and the earth, are evil, while immaterial things such as the soul and Heaven are good. This view is called Platonism. The Christian church, highly influenced by Platonism through the teachings of Philo (ca. 20 BC-AD 50) and Origen (AD 185-254), among others, came to embrace the “spiritual” view that human spirits are better off without bodies…” (p. 52)

Mr. Alcorn uses this information to explain why we have devised the unbiblical notion that Heaven is a non-physical place where we float around in a disembodied state and hop from cloud to cloud (you know, playing the harp and having one endless church service!). Whoever wants to go there, raise your hand… What?! No takers?! Can you believe that Plato is the one that inspired such nonsense? You may be thinking, “Come on! I know that isn’t how Heaven is!” But, do you have another notion of Heaven that is well-developed? You may not believe you will be hopping from cloud to cloud, but you may not be able to imagine what else it could be like either. We don’t know what to attribute it to, but for some reason we haven’t really been taught to think of Heaven as a physical place, much less an earthly one. But, that is exactly the way the Bible describes Heaven as it will be after Jesus comes back (on the New Earth). Mr. Alcorn would suggest that our inability to ascribe physical characteristics to Heaven and to our eternal bodies is because of the subconscious influence of Platonism.

When I first read about this, I was floored. It may not mean a hill of beans to you, but I was shocked that the church had been and continues to be so profoundly influenced by the secular teachings of a Greek philosopher. (Makes me wonder what else I am being duped about…) When I learned about Platonism, I immediately felt free to dump all of my old notions about eternal things in favor of a more accurate biblical viewpoint. And, let me tell you, the truth makes Heaven a LOT more appealing. No wonder we are all so unexcited about it!

Like last week, you may be wondering, “What does this have to do with taking care of my body?” Again, I assert: Everything! I think that the same philosophy that robs us of our joy of Heaven steals our ability to properly view our physical bodies as important in life on earth now. The idea that material things (including our bodies) are evil and that spiritual things are good makes us feel like we have to choose between two undesirable options: joining the world in the worship of the physical or renouncing the physical as inconsequential. Neither of these options reveals God’s heart toward his human creation.

Here is the bottom line: We don’t have to choose between Plato and pop culture. I choose door #3! My body matters to God. My value is not wrapped up in whether or not I am the most beautiful, sexiest, or youngest looking person alive. Beauty and sex are not inherently bad things. God made them! In their rightful place, they are (as God said) “good”. But, they are not to be the pursuit of my life. Above all else, I need to pursue Christ. And, in so doing, I will learn the discipline of being a good steward of my body. My body is inextricably tied to my spirit. And, the Bible encourages me to use it well as I engage in my life’s mission. Let’s look at how we do that next week.

Dem Bones (Part 3): The Dust of the Ground and the Breath of Life

2011-02-09T10:13:00.000-06:00

The first funeral I ever attended was that of my paternal grandmother. I was nine years old. I can remember walking into the visitation at the funeral home like it was yesterday. It was so disturbing to me. Organ music, dim lighting, and the sickly sweet smell of lilies. As I stood over the casket and hesitantly peeked in, I remember my parents comforting me with these words: “Grandma is not in there, honey. It is just her shell.” I suppose, for children, this suffices as one of the most concrete ways to explain death. The spirit leaves the body, and all that is left is a shell. (Think hermit crabs and other sea creatures.)

Have you noticed that our childhood experiences have an uncanny way of silently creeping into our grown-up perceptions of things? How many of us, if we are honest, still perceive death as we did when we were 9? Don’t many of us still get that queasy feeling when we hear organ music or take a whiff of lilies? And, when we stand over a casket, isn’t there something inside of us that is still unsatisfied with the “shell” explanation? Don’t we want more now that we are adults? Yet, many of us still don’t know what that “more” is. And, so when we meet with that fateful day when we take our own children along for their first funeral, we tell them, “Don’t worry, honey. It is just a shell.” We don’t know what else to say.

I had to know what God said about the physical body once and for all when I was forced to bury my two-year-old. Nothing is more counter-intuitive than putting the growing, soft, sweet body of your little girl in the hard, cold ground. This is especially true when you are the one whose very own body housed that other little body as it formed from two single cells into a living, breathing human being with thoughts and feelings and a God-given purpose to fulfill. In that case, the physical body seems pretty important. It is the part that nurses at your breast and snuggles in your lap as you sing lullabies. It is the part that gives sloppy kisses and forms the “hook ‘em horns” sign with chubby fingers. It wears the dress-up clothes and produces the adorable grin and cute voice that belts the word ‘FAB-U-LOOOUUUS!’ from the soundtrack of High School Musical. In short, the physical body is a big part of the way we know someone—and care for someone. Ask your mother. It is why she still wants you to eat good food. It is why she still wants to comfort you when you are sick. And, it is why she still winces at the idea of you getting a tattoo.

On the surface, the “shell” metaphor seems to work. But, in actuality, it falls far short of the truth, and it can lead to some false beliefs about the relationship between the physical and the spiritual in God’s human creation. Bodies and spirits were never meant to be separated. Death is not, like we have been told, “a natural part of life.” It is a perversion of God’s perfect design, a result of the fall. A day is coming when all bodies will be reunited with their spirits. Jesus says that one day all who have died will rise from their graves (believers and non) to face judgment (John 5:28-29). Bodies are not just shells that can be discarded when the spirit finds a better (or another…) home.

By now you may be wondering, “What in the world does this have to do with the topic of physical health?” I contend that it has a LOT to do with it. It is my opinion that the way we view the body in death speaks volumes about our view of the body in life. I would argue that if we still think that it is natural and normal for the spirit to leave the body in death that we are probably not placing the proper import on the physical body while we still breathe! Are our bodies really just shells for our spirits after all? Or, are they more?

Want the truth? Your body matters in this world…and in the next. Good thing the Bible reassures us that it is so much more than a shell.

Read this excerpt from Randy Alcorn’s book Heaven:

“Genesis 2:7 says, ‘The Lord God formed the man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being.’ The Hebrew word for ‘living being’ is nephesh, often translated ‘soul’. The point at which Adam became nephesh is when God joined his body (dust) and spirit (breath) together. Adam was not a living human being until he had both material (physical) and immaterial (spiritual) components. Thus, the essence of humanity is not just spirit, but spirit joined with body. Your body does not merely house the real you—it is as much a part of who you are as your spirit is.”(p.112)

Did you catch that? “Your body does not merely house the real you—it is as much a part of who you are as your spirit is.” Doesn’t that change the way you view your body? It profoundly changes the way I view mine. You see, we have been trained as Christians to nurture our spirits. But, we can’t start to do a better job of taking care of our bodies until we recognize that they actually count. And, we can see from Genesis 2:7 that the essence of who we are is spirit joined with body. No other part of creation has this distinction. Neither the earth, the sea, the sky, the stars, nor even the animals are spirit joined with body. For humans--and humans alone--body and spirit are inextricably linked. We are the pinnacle of God’s creation. And, this link between our bodies and spirits is what makes us unique.

Let’s look at some Scriptures that show the effect your spirit has on your body (SPIRIT→BODY). I have written before about the way our bodies respond to emotional stress in my blog post “The Physical Toll of Grief” (February, 2010). Grief, I rationalized, can certainly affect your physical body. The Bible says so. Take these verses as examples:

Be merciful to me, LORD, for I am in distress;
my eyes grow weak with sorrow,
my soul and body with grief.
My life is consumed by anguish
and my years by groaning;
my strength fails because of my affliction,
and my bones grow weak. Psalm 31:9-10

My heart is blighted and withered like grass;
I forget to eat my food.
In my distress I groan aloud
and am reduced to skin and bones. Psalm 102:4-5

We know from these verses that negative influences on our spirit affect our bodies negatively. But, Scripture teaches us that there is a positive correlation between spirit and body, too. It says that when good things happen in our spirits, our bodies benefit. Look at these examples:

Do not be wise in your own eyes;
fear the LORD and shun evil.
This will bring health to your body
and nourishment to your bones. Proverbs 3:7-8

Whoever is patient has great understanding,
but one who is quick-tempered displays folly.
A heart at peace gives life to the body… Proverbs 14:29-30a

What about looking at the connection from the other direction? In other words, what does the Bible say about how the body affects the spirit? (BODY→SPIRIT) Let’s look at the example in Proverbs 6:32. Solomon has gone on and on warning his son not to get involved with the adulteress. In a nutshell, he is telling his son that if you get your body involved in sin, it will devastate your spirit. “The one who commits adultery lacks sense; whoever does so destroys himself.” Mistreating the body leads to the destruction of the whole self—which includes the spirit.

Yes, Scripture is clear. In so many places, it reinforces that undeniable relationship between body and spirit and, in the process, the undeniable import of both. To me, the Bible screams, “Respect both! Honor both! Nurture both! Please God with both!”

No, my body is not just a shell that houses the “real” me. It is a vital part of the humanity God created to worship Him and have fellowship with Him. I must not ignore it! It might take 5 in the grave for a while, but it will eventually be restored and last forever.

If you have heard all of what I have said so far and are still tempted to think your body doesn’t really matter, consider this Scripture (the most significant reason for giving your body some attention):

“Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your bodies.” (1 Corinthians 6:19-20)

Wow. My body is God’s house? We can see here that what we choose to do with our bodies affects not just our own spirits, but God’s Holy Spirit. Ups the ante, doesn’t it? (YOUR BODY→GOD’S HOLY SPIRIT)

You see, when I realize that my body is God’s dwelling place, my motivation to care for it increases. As I begin to accept God’s call to follow Him more closely, the care of my body goes way beyond avoiding that which is expressly forbidden in Scripture and moves toward lovingly submitting my whole self to God, doesn’t it? I am constantly challenged by what this means in my life. But, I am excited about what following God around that corner promises! I am slowly, but surely, moving away from merely selfish reasons for being physically healthy (like looking good or even feeling good) and moving toward a longer-lasting, Christ-centered motivation.

Let me ask you this: What is holding you back? How much more impact could you have on the kingdom of God if you recognized that you are not just a spirit inhabiting a shell for a time? Do you not know that you are dust of the earth (body) and breath of life (spirit) joined together? You are unlike any other of God’s creations. You are special. Everything that makes you YOU is important to God. He cares about you—inside and out! Yes, dear one, you are nephesh—a living being (a soul) whose purpose is to glorify God with ALL that you are. Don’t you forget it!

(Join me next week as we look at some interesting history that may shed some light on why we in the church have elevated the spiritual realm above the physical realm. Part of the process of shifting our paradigm is discovering where our thinking originates and bringing it back to the truth of Scripture. I hope you will be intrigued by what I have discovered and challenged to bring all of your beliefs in line with God’s Word. For me, this study has been a big part of finally properly prioritizing my health.)

Dem Bones (Part 2): Falling Off the Truck

2011-02-03T16:37:00.000-06:00

The bench in the parking lot of Chili’s became a familiar meeting spot for my friend Viki and me—a beacon of comfort and commiseration during a challenging season of life. It was there, in the fall of 2006, that we would meet weekly and chat for hours. We were trying to convince each other that we would feel better someday. The truth, though, was that both of us feared that our children may soon be visiting us in a nursing home wiping drool off of our chins. I’m not exaggerating. We were both physically sick, seeking a solution to our health woes. We were like sleuths putting together a 1500-piece puzzle and trying to solve the mystery. What had happened to us? We were scared. We were both barely 30, and we felt 80. It was a season that today we affectionately call, “falling off the truck”. It was as if some unknown force just dumped us off of a moving vehicle. The fall was a hard one.

Maybe as you are reading this today, you can identify. You feel as if you’ve “fallen off the truck”. You once were a healthy person, but now your body is in open rebellion. You feel older than you are, and you aren’t sure if you will ever feel good again. Maybe you have just been through a season of life where taking care of yourself was not the primary focus. Someone else’s needs came first. As women, we can hardly avoid going through at least one season of life just like this. It’s not just women, though. I know my husband temporarily abandoned caring for himself. He was just as knee-deep in kiddos as I was. We were in survival mode. Many, I think, can sympathize in one way or another. If, however, you haven’t yet fallen off the truck, you probably know someone who has. That person probably really needs a friend about now. Maybe you can be that friend.

When Viki and I held our meetings in 2006, both of us acknowledged that getting out of the house was a “narrow escape”. We often left crying babies, tired husbands, and a heck-of-a mess in our wake. But, we both really needed a friend! We each had three small children at the time. I had birthed three little girls in three years. Viki had a two-year-old son when she added fraternal twins to her family. We had spent the better part of five years completely given over to the needs of producing, nursing, and caring for the round-the-clock needs of helpless human beings. We had not slept much. We had not taken much time for our own needs. We were totally in love with our babies. But, we were totally wiped out. It seemed like no matter how hard we tried to get on top of things, we just couldn’t.

I wondered, “What am I doing wrong?” I kept trying to come at the problem from a practical standpoint. What if I just adjusted our schedule? What if I did things a different way? Still, I felt overwhelmed. Over time, that feeling of being overwhelmed morphed into strange physical symptoms. I had numbness and tingling in my limbs, migraine headaches, tremors in my hands, flu-like achiness, stomach ailments, and terrible fatigue. Alarmed doctors sent me for a battery of tests including brain MRI’s and blood tests. I saw a neurologist, a gastroenterologist, and a rheumatologist. None of them could find anything. I was relieved and frustrated all at the same time. Thank God, I did not have some of the problems the doctors were looking for…but I still felt very sick. This went on for 6 months. During that time, I began to experience panic attacks. Once, I was at the grocery store and suddenly my heart began to race. I felt like I could not breathe. The world seemed to swirl around me, and I had to have a friend pick me up and drive me home. Another time, I had the same experience in a bouncy place while watching all three of my kids. I was terrified and wondered if I was still competent to care for my own children.

This trend finally landed me in the emergency room twice in two days. I literally woke up one night from a dead sleep with my heart beating out of my chest. There was no logical precursor. I had not been worrying or thinking about anything specific. It was physiological. I felt like I was having a heart attack. I thought I was going to die. What was up?! This time, my mother happened to be in town to help me. When they finally called my name in the ER, they informed me that I could only take one person back with me. I looked at my husband and my mother. I was torn. I wanted my husband, but I needed my mommy! My mother followed me back, and I prayed Bryan would forgive me later. My mom practically yelled at the doctors (which was what I felt I needed), “There is something wrong with my daughter, and we are not leaving until you find out what it is!” The ER doctor looked at me and said, “Have you consulted with a psychiatrist?” I wanted to punch him in the face. “I am NOT CRAZY!” I shouted at him.

Despite our best efforts to assert ourselves, my mother and I, escorted by my sweet, patient husband, walked out of the ER still without a diagnosis. As we sat on the couch at home, my mother fed me canned peaches. I was too weak to feed myself. At the end of my rope, I decided to try the psychiatrist. It was one of the best decisions I ever made.

To my surprise, the psychiatrist had the answers I needed. She kept helping me pursue other diagnostic tests to make sure there was not another organic cause for my symptoms while she addressed what she could. I will admit her methods seemed a bit experimental, but in hind sight, I wouldn’t change a thing. What I discovered during that time was very valuable: brain chemistry messes with your whole body. Here I was, a trained social worker who was supposed to offer every individual dignity, and I still thought going to a psychiatrist meant you were “crazy”. I had a good “book knowledge” of mental health issues, but I clearly did not understand the impact of brain chemistry on overall well-being. What I experienced had little to do with what I thought about things. I didn’t think myself into this place. And, I couldn’t pray myself out. In fact, I couldn’t even access my coping skills. I was physically sick. Sure, my emotional health was affected. My spiritual health was affected. It was all haywire because my body was sick.

For me, medicine was a big part of the cure. I know that is not the case for everyone. I was skeptical as they come. I didn’t want to become dependent on medicine for the rest of my life. And, by the grace of God, I do not need the medicine today. That is not everyone’s story, but it is mine. As I was beginning my medicine, a rheumatologist I saw gave me this advice that still rings in my ears: “You don’t have an autoimmune disorder. Don’t ever let a doctor tell you that you do. Your symptoms are similar, though. Make sure you are breathing deeply. Get lots of sleep. Drink more water. Eat right. And, exercise. Most of my patients don’t feel like exercising, but they will feel better if they do.” Though I thought he must be over-simplifying things, I followed his advice. And, he was dead on. I had forgotten how to breathe (silly as it sounds). And, even when I felt achy, I got moving. It was counter-intuitive. I was tired. Wouldn’t exercise make me more tired? Nope. Instead, it gave me energy. In combination with medicine, these few things “the doctor ordered” steadily improved my health.

When Audrey died a year later, I was devastated. But, I was equipped to handle things mentally, emotionally, and spiritually because I was no longer physically sick. My friends were worried it would send me over the edge. But, by then I knew better. It was clear to me then, and only then, how much of my problem in 2006 was physiological. And, I was keenly aware of how it all tied together—body, mind, and spirit.

Viki’s story is similar, but not the same. After having her twins, she did not recover the way she thought she would. She kept trying to blame her health issues on the mounting responsibilities of motherhood and her workload. And, so did many around her. In fact, some key people in her life even blamed her for her declining health. She began sleeping 14 hours a day. She gained a lot of weight, which was uncharacteristic of her. She felt horrible. And, she was very discouraged. As she got sicker, she missed more and more of what was going on with her children. Her loving husband stepped in to help. What neither of them knew was that her thyroid had quit on her. Kaput. By the time she figured it out, she was near death’s door, really. You need your thyroid to live.

Like me, Viki visited a barrage of doctors. She finally ended up in the excellent care of a skilled endocrinologist. It was a long, hard road, though. She had to fire a few docs along the way. She had to advocate for herself (even defend herself)—in the medical arena and in her own circle of family and friends. She lost a lot of time with her children along the way. She still grieves what “might have been” during those years. It wasn’t what she bargained for during their baby and toddler years. But, by God’s grace, good medical intervention, and support from her husband and a few loyal friends, she has emerged on the other side of this crisis a much happier, healthier person.

In January of last year, Viki and I switched our meeting place from the bench at Chili’s to the treadmill at the gym. We have been meeting each other on weekdays at 8 a.m. sharp ever since. I lost 20 pounds and got stronger as I cried out, punched out, and ran out my troubles. Once Viki’s thyroid worked again, she was able to drop about 40 pounds in a few short months, too. And, we didn’t have to starve ourselves. We helped each other find healthy recipes. Sometimes we fed our families together. And, we kept moving, even when we didn’t feel like it. Viki got so healthy again that she unexpectedly got pregnant with number four! We are confident that it was God’s plan, after healing her body, to use this tiny one (due in May) to heal her heart as well. God’s just good like that.

You see, sometimes we “fall off of the truck” through no fault of our own. Maybe we are doing our best to take care of ourselves, and we still get sick. Sometimes, we neglect our own care because we are focusing on other people or other pursuits. Those pursuits might be noble ones. Yet, our bodies suffer—and thus our spirits. And, sometimes, if we are honest with ourselves, we get a little bit sedentary and overindulge in foods that aren’t good for us. Bad habits form over time without our even noticing. We wake up one day and feel really sluggish and discouraged about life, and we didn’t even see it coming. I think that, for most of us, we can attribute our waning health to a combination of these things.

No matter the cause, those of us who find ourselves dumped off on the side of the road need some triage! We need some support. And, we need some hope that someday we might feel stronger again. I shared my story and my friend Viki’s story because I think some of you need to know you are not alone. I believe that having a health crisis in your child-bearing years is common because I have countless other friends who have been through something very similar. No one warned us!! It’s not just the child-bearing years, though. There are many other stages of life when a health crisis is likely to rear its ugly head. As I watch other people around me tumbling over like dominoes, I can’t help but want to offer some cheerleading to get them to the other side.

Some of you need to be encouraged to keep pursuing a solution to your personal health crisis. Some of you who have devoted all of your energy toward the care of others need to be inspired to turn some of your energy toward yourself again and begin healing what has been neglected. And, some of you need to know you don’t have to feel this way forever. You are, in fact, 30 (40, 50, or 60), for example, and not 100!

In short, if you are still breathing, God is not done with you yet! Your health matters to Him. It was part of His perfect plan that your body be in working order. He made your body and spirit to work in harmony with one another. We live, of course, in a world that is fallen. And, until we get to Heaven, we will contend with health issues. We might fall off the truck every once and a while. But, we can understand how God made us, know that He wants us to do our best to take care of ourselves, and work toward restoration of our health as long as He gives us breath. There is hope for YOU today if you have fallen off of the truck.

Read along next week as we shift our focus from ourselves to God’s Word as we learn how God made our bodies and our spirits to work together. I think you will be challenged and encouraged--for yourself and for the friends you support.

Dem Bones

2011-01-27T11:12:00.002-06:00

In first grade, Mary Claire came home with a purple poetry folder. She loved to recite one of her favorites: “Dem Bones.” You’ve heard it before…♫ “Dem bones, dem bones, dem dry bones…the hip bone’s connected to the knee bone, the knee bone’s connected to the ankle bone, the ankle bone’s connected to the foot bone…we have 206 bones.”♪ I loved the way Mary Claire could divide the word “bone” into about three or four syllables! Thank you, Texas! Yee-haw!

That poem (especially Mary Claire’s rendition) is funny, but it also gets me thinking…you know, dem bones are connected to much more than dem other bones. Dem bones are connected to dem hearts and dem minds, too! God made it that way. We all know it, or we wouldn’t feel so mentally and emotionally sluggish come January 1st after two months of abusing our bodies through the holidays with overeating and stressful busyness. Whether we want to admit it or not, our bodies need a little of our attention so the rest of us can keep on keepin’ on.

January is a time when many of us think about going to the gym…literally. Most of us just think about going to the gym! There are those, though, who will start off on the right foot. They will begin to exercise and eat better, but two weeks later they want to throw in the proverbial (gym) towel. A friend told me she heard on the radio that it was scientifically proven that January 17th was the saddest day of this year. Why? Most people are dealing with post-holiday blues. Nothing to look forward to, it is dreary outside, and besides, by mid-month, we’ve already blown our New Year’s Resolutions. That kind of stuff can surely leave us in the dumps. God knows I understand. For a person who needs her vitamin D, has struggled with clinical depression, and has legitimate real-life reasons to feel sad, January and February are always challenging. I fight my winter blues with a surefire “cocktail”: lots of prayer, blazing fires in the fireplace, scented candles, bright lightbulbs, cozy blankets and--thanks to a huge change in my perspective--a healthy diet, and EXERCISE. I’ve been the thinker (not the do-er) and the quitter before, but taking care of myself is no longer a New Year’s Resolution for me. It’s a lifestyle. Dese bones gotta keep dis mind in check!

Last year I observed first-hand the difficulty people have keeping the promise to get healthy. I had been going to the gym myself for just over a year consistently. I already had a routine, so I kept doing what I had been doing. I watched as the traffic increased in the parking lot of the gym on January 2nd. A few times, I had to wait for a machine. But, by March 1st, things were back to normal. Most of those new people had quit by then. I’m not making fun of them. I’ve been there…over and over. It is so hard to make a change in life, isn’t it?

When it came to health and fitness, in order to make a lasting change, I needed a shift not only in my behavior but in my thinking. A real paradigm shift. I will be the first to admit that my motivation in the past has been vain. In high school, as I was developing physically and hormonally, I began putting on weight for the first time in my life. I had been a gymnast as a child, and I knew what it was like to be in shape. I liked feeling strong. But, as my physical activity decreased and my metabolism changed, I began struggling with my weight. I am sure now that I did the wrong thing in response. I started drastically reducing my calories. I remember taking a bagel and a banana to school for lunch for about two years straight. I am lucky I didn’t struggle with an eating disorder. All my friends were following the latest fad diet, namely the no-fat one. Everyone scrapped the good stuff like healthy oils and low-fat proteins for the standard fare of the day: Snackwells cookies. That was stellar nutrition, ladies. (What did they make those things out of anyway?) And, so began my lifelong love/hate relationship with food.

I don’t think I will ever completely remove the struggle from my life, but now that I am older, I am not looking at my physical health in the same way I did when I was 18. Sure, it is nice to try on clothes and have them actually fit me. And, it is nice to feel pretty. But, I want to testify to you how AWESOME it is to feel powerful and positive about my life because of my health! I want to tell you how much more equipped I feel to do what God made me to do because I don’t feel sick anymore. I want you to know that you can be more prepared to cope with the emotional and spiritual challenges of life—however devastating they are—when you are taking care of your physical body. And, most of all, I want to tell you why I have begun to see taking care of myself as an important part of my relationship with God.

Before I delve any deeper into this subject, let me first make a few disclaimers. Most of us (especially women) have had some struggles with weight in our lifetime. We have wrestled with body image at one time or another. And, there are those out there who are battling with an eating disorder. For all intents and purposes, I will not be primarily discussing weight management, body image, or eating disorders here...at this time. By the mere mention of physical health, I don’t want to heap condemnation on anyone or make anyone feel like they have somehow failed. I also don’t want to proclaim that I somehow have this all figured out. What I do want to do is tell you what God is teaching me about how our bodies and our spirits are meant to work together and how if we surrender it all to Him, He can bring about some victory in our lives we have not yet seen! Do you want that victory as much as I do? I have discovered that if we want spiritual victory, we must not ignore the physical disciplines of life. We must be intentional about taking care of ourselves.

Before you throw a brick at your computer screen, let me assure you I am not just another person ringing the New Year bell telling you to go on a diet and put on your running shoes so that you can be a good little Christian. In the past I have been prone to disregard someone’s words if they even hinted that there was a list of things I should be doing to make my Christian life perfect. Yuck! I detest legalism. Thinking like that heaps guilt. And, sister, we’ve got enough of that to go around already. Hear me: God is much more gentle and patient than that. He doesn’t condemn. He convicts. He doesn’t push. He pulls.

God spoke to me about my health in the same way he speaks to me about everything else…quietly, persistently, and lovingly. When it was time, God whispered to me. “I’ve got something great around the corner over here. Want to see what it looks like? Will you follow me here? I think you’ll be glad you did.” When God talks sweet like this to me, one word comes to mind: revelation! He is about to reveal something new to me. Just when I think I’ve got things figured out, He decides to show me something deeper, something more challenging—something with greater reward. I truly believe He is inspiring me to discuss this topic with you because--for some of you--it is time to walk around that next corner.

If you hear God’s voice beckoning you to get curious enough to peek at what He just might have waiting for you, then join me over the next few weeks on a journey to explore how your physical health is related to your overall health and even your effectiveness in your Christian life. Often, the new thing God holds around the corner requires that I change a bit. Sometimes that is uncomfortable, but when the invitation comes from God, it is always worth it to follow! Dem bones of yours deserve it! Will you come along?

During the next month, we will look at:

o “Falling off the Truck” (exploring the sometimes unforeseeable pitfalls that cause us to ignore our bodies)

o “The Dust of the Ground and the Breath of Life” (recognizing the God-ordained relationship between your body and your spirit)

o “Plato, Pop Culture, and You” (restoring the balance between the spiritual and the physical in our lives)

o “Getting Back on Track” (discovering how God can help us prioritize our health again)

Blessings until next time!

What Do I Know of Holy?

2011-01-20T12:47:00.000-06:00

It took me by surprise. Pictures don’t usually talk. But, this one, nestled in my Christmas tree, mocked me. Situated next to some of my treasured ornaments, among the uber-creative Christmas photo-cards of loved ones, this particularly gorgeous picture caught my eye. One beaming dad, one smiling pregnant mom, three beautiful biological children, and two precious foster children. They seemed to have it all. The picture taunted me: “If God was really in charge of your family all along, Sarah, then why doesn’t it look more like this family does?” I wouldn’t say that I am prone to compare myself to others or to engage in fits of jealousy, but in this case the accuser astonished me with his ability to perfectly time his attack, thereby exploiting my weakened state of mind. When I was off my guard, he got me good.

Only an hour before, I had been freely promoting my blog on Facebook. God had made it clear to me that He was calling me to a ministry of encouragement, so in obedient faith, I was boldly asking people to look at what I have written. Bryan and I had already made the decision to cope with our pain by standing on God’s promises, being honest, and proclaiming Christ’s redemptive power to everyone. Nevertheless, all of the sudden fear gripped me. Some of the material is very personal and potentially damaging to our family, particularly my husband. In this moment, I was thinking I must be the most unloving wife in the world. I must just want to destroy Bryan. I mean, he could lose his job… What could happen to my kids? What kind of maniac am I?

I sensed the photograph on the tree even more hotly pursuing me. In a 4x6 glossy, it screamed, “This is what victory looks like.” I thought about what it was going to take for our family to have victory over our losses, and I was overwhelmed with the prospect. The picture goaded, “Your dream for a family this happy is dead. Nobody gets victory over stuff this devastating.” A victorious, abundant life is what we want more than anything! We know it is what God wants. But, achieving that complete kind of victory--not just the “I survived it” kind--is going to require amazing humility and trust on our part. And, in that moment, I didn’t feel up to the task. I looked at the picture of my sweet friend’s family. I had read their Christmas letter only days earlier and had rejoiced over what God was doing in their lives. I knew that their reality wasn’t all champagne and roses. We had been neighbors, and I had watched as God grew their family and along with it a desire to live an extraordinary life devoted to His purposes. Their letter had inspired me. But, now, I was feeling green. Plain and simple.

“WHY?” I cried out to God. “I have been sold out to you since I was fifteen years old! I did everything in my power to choose wisely so that I could have a family like that! Why have you allowed this pain?” (Ugh. The pride in that sentiment makes me shudder as I recount it. But, I’m trying to be honest.) As I questioned God, all of the pain washed over me afresh like a raging torrent destined to wipe me off the face of the earth. It just might take me out, I thought. I wondered, “How am I supposed to deal with my disappointment and still trust you, God?”

In order to be disappointed, you first have to fall from your original ideal. And our beginning was as idealistic as they come. I met Bryan through a Christian fraternity at UT while playing on an intramural softball team. Friends told me he was interested in me. I didn’t know him, but I sure thought he was cute! One night, following a sorority meeting, I saw him outside the University Christian Church on campus wearing his tuxedo (he had just come from a choir concert). I watched that handsome boy (he was only 19) scan the crowd. Beautiful, sweet girls clamored for his attention. But, he looked over all of them in order to catch my eye. I was finished! We dated for three years as we completed college, and because his parents lived in Germany at the time, Bryan proposed to me in front of the Eiffel Tower in Paris, France…four days before Christmas. It was a dream fit for a princess! As a wedding gift, my aunt made a scrapbook telling the story of our relationship and engagement. It was fairy-tale themed—castles, magic wands, everything. Everyone around us agreed that we were “meant to be.”

One of our first dates found us sitting on a picnic table in the courtyard of my apartment complex, chatting until sunrise about all of our dreams. As dawn broke and the paper boy threw out the day’s edition of the Austin-American Statesman, I asked Bryan, “What is the one thing you most hope to do someday?” I expected this young man to have some adventurous goal like climbing a mountain or traveling somewhere exotic. But, his honest answer? “I really want to be a dad.” I melted. I know, I know. You think that was a sure-fire come-on line meant to lure me into his clutches! But, coming from my tender Bryan it was pure. Straight from the heart.

After we married, we spent the first couple of years getting to know some families of the men Bryan worked with at Dell. One couple had a baby, and the other was pregnant. We had a ball babysitting, throwing showers, and dreaming about our own family all the while. When Caroline came along, we felt immense joy. She was our life. I think we invited 75 people to her first birthday party. It was admittedly obnoxious, but I didn’t know it at the time. All we were thinking was that she was pretty amazing. We got pregnant with Mary Claire when Caroline was only ten months old. It was a shock to us, but we plodded on, excited about how God was building our family. At her birth, the doctor said, “It’s a girl!” And, simultaneously, Bryan and I said through joyful tears, “A sister for Caroline!” Exactly ten months later, I went for a “girl’s night out” to see the movie “The Notebook”. I came home entranced in a romantic whirlwind…and, then there was Audrey. (Caution: Watching this movie may cause pregnancy!) Our quiver was full. Three years, three girls. We were busy. And, mostly happy, if unprepared to face the tremendous challenges of providing for a family and parenting three young children. We had a lot of learning to do. But, it seemed as if we were living our dream.

Then the bottom fell out, piece by piece. Depression, cancer, death, sin, betrayal, disillusionment. The pain and loss we encountered did NOT fit into my fairy tale. How had my lovely dream so quickly derailed and exploded into a fiery mess? “How am I supposed to deal with my disappointment and still trust you, God?”

The answer to that question is a long one, but I have found a solid foundation for my conclusions in the book of Job. I don’t know if you’re aware, but Satan asked for the chance to mess with Job, and God allowed him. I still don’t know why, but that one fact has caused me to challenge some of my notions of who God is. Anyhow, as Job faced the devastation—he lost everything including children, possessions, and his health—he certainly questioned God. And, many people around Job (so-called “friends”) tried to come up with explanations about why this must have happened to him. Job never abandoned God or cursed Him, but he wrestled with his concept of who God is and why He would allow or cause such misery. God is the most interesting character in this narrative, in my opinion. As a loving father, he listens patiently to all of the speculation for a while (nearly 40 chapters of it), but eventually He tires of it. Then, He draws a line in the sand for Job. His diatribe is much longer and harsher than my synopsis, but it goes basically like this: Listen, Job, I made you! I made everything! I know what I’m doing! Now, are you going to trust me or not?

It is notable that for a long time, God is patient with the process Job has to go through to get to the bottom of his pain. God has been at least that patient with me. I believe that it is natural and normal to have to wrestle through things if we are to get to a genuine and lasting faith that sets the course for the rest of our lives—not just a nominal one based on rules and on our own pre-conceived idea of what life is supposed to be like. So many passages in the Bible show us that it is ok to ask questions and that doubt is not the opposite of faith.

Trying too soon to bring someone to the conclusion that God’s sovereignty is enough of an explanation for their pain can cause more harm than good. I remember an older couple in my parents’ church greeting me soon after Audrey’s death. They were compassionate toward me, but their response was rather oversimplified for a grieving mom, “You know, the Lord knows best, honey.” It crushed me. How could the death of my daughter be part of the Lord knowing best?! But, they were not wrong, in principle. Their timing just stunk. The cool thing about God is that His timing is impeccable. He knows when we need His quiet tender mercy, and He knows when it is time to hear His loud declaration that He is God!

So, while God was tender with Job for a long time, when Job was ready for it, God was no-nonsense with him. I think of the conversation I had with my girls at the dinner table a couple of nights ago. I had been so patient with their little complaints about food…for a long time. I had tried to accommodate their individual tastes, and I had even tried to accommodate Caroline’s newfound aversion to meat and all other animal bi-products. After a while, though, this little dance we had at the table had become tiresome. If I had to monitor the number of bites they ate one more time, I think I would have lost my marbles. It was time for a declaration: I am the mother, and I am TIRED of all of this nonsense. After all, I plan the meals, I buy the food, I bring it home, and I prepare it. I know what is healthy. You don’t. End of story. Eat my food. Like it. Use your good manners at the table. Or, leave the table and don’t plan to eat until the next meal!

Wide-eyed, the kids knew I meant business. I didn’t have to remind them I loved them. They already knew that. What they needed was a quick reminder of who was in charge. The next night, Caroline choked down her chicken gratefully. “It’s just food,” she murmured to herself, all the while giving me the obligatory, “Mom, this is a yummy dinner.” No more bite-counting. It was heavenly.

Just like I had to remind my children who was in charge, God told Job, “You don’t know the half of what I know, so just shut up and trust me!” This is not really what I need to hear coming from my fellow travelers on this planet (or what they want to hear from me), but somehow it is more palatable coming from the God of the universe. I was not able to accept this truth when I first faced my disappointment and pain, but three years later, I can choose to respond like Job did. “Whoa. I’m sorry God. I had forgotten how HOLY you are. I’m sorry. Help me to trust you.”

Sure, my fairy tale life looked pretty good on paper. But, it was a fallacy to think my life was ever MINE in the first place. And, what made me think if I was the author of my own story I would be able to craft it better than God could? In fact, my own ideal, good as it seems, if I don’t surrender it, will most certainly hold me back from all the better things God has planned for my future. One of my friends, who is facing marital struggles, has learned the same lesson. In an email to me she wrote, “One of the toughest realizations I had over the weekend was that my idealism was actually a lack of faith. My "high expectations" were actually a ceiling and I was preventing myself from trusting in what God was allowing in my life. God has better plans that exceed my highest expectations or ideals. I'm planning to trust in Him instead of my ideals.” Wow! You go, girl! God’s plan is indeed far richer and grander than anything we could have ever planned for ourselves. God said it to Job, and he has (in his perfect timing) said it to me and my friend, too. “I am holy.”

Want to know the best part? Guess what happened to Job once he bent his knee to God’s holiness: God restored him. The very same God who allowed calamity to come upon Job restored to him more than he ever had in the first place. “And the Lord gave Job twice as much as he had before…And the Lord blessed the latter days of Job more than his beginning.” Job 42:10b, 12

Now we’re talking! I want my latter days to be blessed more than my beginning! That may not come in the form of material possessions or more children, and it may not look like my original fairy tale, but I know that the God of the Bible is going to bless me beyond my wildest imagination as I trust Him. Either way, I know God is God and I am not. I can’t see what He can see. His purposes include things outside my own happiness. My life is not really about me anyway. God is holy. I will bend my knee.

The morning after the fateful encounter with the Christmas card, I awoke with a song in my heart. I had heard it once the day before, but only in the midst of a bunch of different songs. There was no conscious reason it should be running through my mind. But, I knew it was no accident. They were the words to a new Addison Road song, “What Do I Know of Holy?”:

“I’ve tried to hear from Heaven, but I’ve talked the whole time. I think I made you too small. I never feared you at all…What do I know of you who spoke me into motion? Where have I even stood but the shores along your ocean?...I guess I thought that I had figured you out. I knew all the stories, and I learned to talk about how you were mighty to save. But, those were only empty words on a page. Then I caught a glimpse of who you might be. The slightest hint of you brought me down to my knees…So, what do I know? What do I know of holy?”

It has been a long process getting to this place, but I am in awe of God’s holiness. I’m sure Job was, too. And, I’m wondering, as I’m sure he was, “What do you have in store for me next, Lord?” Instead of mapping it all out as I did in my younger days, I’m keeping my eyes open and my heart open and my soul expectant.

Have you suffered some deep disappointment? As a result, are you unsure if God is trustworthy? I get it. Been there. And, besides, God already knows. So, tell Him. Wrestle with your thoughts in prayer. Let it all hang out. Then, don’t be afraid when you hear God’s voice (when it is time) saying, “I am holy.” When He does, you’ll be ready to receive it. Chances are, when He speaks this way, He is getting ready to restore you beyond your deepest, most heartfelt dreams.

“How am I supposed to deal with my disappointment and still trust you, God?” Recognize Your holiness. Take You at your Word. Wait for You to finish my non-fiction fairy tale as You desire. Knowing the kind of author You are, it just has to end well.

Miserable Comforters

2011-01-13T16:33:00.000-06:00

We’ve all known one. If we are honest, we’ve all been one. A miserable comforter! Have you noticed that when you are having the hardest time, people just say the dumbest things?

Take for example, my neighbor, who showed up on the day my daughter died and thought it was helpful to offer this advice, “You just have to get yourself together and go on for those other two little girls.” Do I? Less than 24 hours after my 2-year-old’s tragic death? Really?

Or, take this example from a friend of mine who lost a child to cancer. When an acquaintance from church showed up to retrieve an empty food container (at least she was trying to help by bringing food…), she lamely offered these words, “When my dog died, I thought, ‘This is what it must be like to lose a child.’” Ouch.

You know, people try. But, they often miss the mark. Big time. I could get indignant if God had not brought to mind one of my own incompetent comments. Remembering it this week made my stomach churn. I was at my 10-year high school reunion. Mary Claire was about 8 weeks old. I was still big and tired, not quite recovered from the birth. So, as I walked in the door, I was dealing with feelings of inadequacy--as I’m sure many were. I was a ball of nerves. High school was good, bad, and awkward all at the same time. I was trying to be mature and expect everyone else to act grown-up, too. But, somehow, we all seemed like 18-year-old kids in 28-year-old bodies, still groping for our identities.

An hour or so into the evening, I got the courage to approach my 7th grade crush. I had heard that his girlfriend and soon-to-be fiancé, another classmate of ours, had recently died in a car accident. I felt so sad for him, and I wanted to offer my condolences. I saw him standing with a friend. I took a deep breath, and once I decided to move in, there was no stopping my mouth. I blurted out, “I am so very sorry to hear about Michelle.” Whew. That was ok. Not a bad start. But, then I added something about knowing how he felt because my mother-in-law was just diagnosed with brain cancer. I don’t know the exact words I used, but that doesn’t matter. What did he care about my mother-in-law’s cancer? How was that in any way related to what he was going through? He smiled at me and nodded, as if to graciously accept my feeble attempt to console him. I walked away, and I felt guilty about it…for about another 10 years, apparently!

Want to hear something exciting? God is totally onto this problem. The undesirable fact is that when we are hurting, some of the things people say to us actually end up hurting us more. God knows.

When Job’s friends offered all kinds of advice and speculation about why he suffered, he took it quietly for a while. But, he got fed up eventually. Here is what he said:

2 “I have heard many things like these;
you are miserable comforters, all of you!
3 Will your long-winded speeches never end?
What ails you that you keep on arguing?
4 I also could speak like you,
if you were in my place;
I could make fine speeches against you
and shake my head at you.
5 But my mouth would encourage you;
comfort from my lips would bring you relief.” Job 16:2-5

Did you know that the phrase “miserable comforters” was even in the Bible?? I didn’t until a year or so ago. I tell you, the day I read this passage, I just about jumped up and down! God gets it!

I would like to assume that, most of the time, the people in my life have good intentions. I know that when I have said the wrong things, I have sincerely wanted to be helpful. But, the same could not be said for the men that tried to explain Job’s suffering. There is a difference between thoughtless words and those that convey a misinterpretation of who God is. The former may be hurtful to us, but the latter is offensive to God.

Sometimes, people come to offer us comfort and end up passing judgment instead, just as Job’s contemporaries did. One woman, coping with infertility and the deep desire to have a child, described a Christian person’s response to her: “Have you considered whether you have some sin in your life that may be keeping you from getting pregnant?” Whoa! In my opinion, that statement hits below the belt and quite probably misinterprets God and His character. I don’t know everything about the Bible yet, but I don’t think that God works that way. (and my Biblical reasons for believing so may be a topic for another day…) In my estimation, this woman, who was seeking God and needed comfort, instead received judgment under the guise of godly counsel.

Job’s “friends” responded to his loss in much the same way. They tried to put God in a box, to ascribe to Him character qualities that were not based in truth. And, to put it plainly, God didn’t like it. After God made sure Job knew who He really was (see more about this in next week’s post), he rebuked the men who had been such “miserable comforters”. Read on:

“ 7 After the LORD had said these things to Job, he said to Eliphaz the Temanite, “I am angry with you and your two friends, because you have not spoken the truth about me, as my servant Job has. 8 So now take seven bulls and seven rams and go to my servant Job and sacrifice a burnt offering for yourselves. My servant Job will pray for you, and I will accept his prayer and not deal with you according to your folly. You have not spoken the truth about me, as my servant Job has.” 9 So Eliphaz the Temanite, Bildad the Shuhite and Zophar the Naamathite did what the LORD told them; and the LORD accepted Job’s prayer.” Job 42:7-9

I love it! God forgave those miserable comforters because of Job’s prayer! How’s that for just desserts?

God knows people don’t always say the right things when we are hurting. And, He didn’t get upset with Job for telling them so. I don’t think God would have been bothered if Job decided to part company with these folks. And, I am confident that God did not want Job’s healing to hinge on their words. As hard as it is, sometimes we have to be able to discern whether or not someone’s words are worth giving another minute of our time—even if the source is someone close to us or someone we previously thought of as wise. We must ask ourselves, “Does that comment line up with God’s truth and character as He has revealed to me in the Bible? Does it sit well with the Spirit, who lives inside of me?” If the answer is no, we must toss it out. As my husband says, “Take out the trash.” Mentally erase it and ask God to replace it with truth.

Moreover, Job’s restoration from all of his suffering happened only after he prayed for his friends’ forgiveness. If he was going to offer a sincere prayer for God to forgive them, then he probably had to forgive them himself as well. If he still harbored anger in his heart toward them for the pain they inflicted, he probably would not have been able to genuinely ask God to let it go. Maybe Job, like me, was able to remember a time when he had said something he regretted…or worse, when he said something that misrepresented the living God. Perhaps because he was able to offer mercy, he could fully receive the restoration God had planned for him. As we will study next week, that restoration was better than he could have imagined.

Listen, we all foul this up! The truth is that nobody knows what to do or say when someone is hurting deeply. We all fumble for words. Sometimes we don’t say anything because we don’t want to say the wrong thing. Ironically, we may hurt people with our silence. And, sometimes, we rely on an underdeveloped view of God or Scripture, bring our own biases and judgmental attitude to the table, and really mess up big time. There is no perfection to be had. But, God does give us some guidance when it comes to consoling others: “3 Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, 4 who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.” 2 Corinthians 1:3-4.

How can we do our very best to comfort those who are hurting? Offer first what we have been given from God Himself! What is the most valuable prerequisite for being a skilled comforter? Personal suffering. The more we have hurt and the more we have needed comfort, the more adept we will be at offering comfort to others. But, it still won’t come naturally. We must always approach this subject with a little fear and trembling.

This week I had the sacred privilege of visiting the home of a friend who is grieving a late miscarriage…the death of her child….only a week ago. This was holy ground. I wanted to tread lightly. When I walked in the door, this precious mother, armed with Kleenex, a journal, and a handful of index cards plastered with Scripture verses, hugged me and cried. “I have been going around the house clinging to Scripture,” she said. “It is the only thing that comforts me.” I had to suck in the flood of tears waiting to gush out of my eyes. I suddenly felt an unfathomable camaraderie with her searing pain and her grief process. I had experienced it. And, it was as if I could transport myself back there in a nanosecond. I did shed some tears, and I think she knew I cared. But, I was careful not to talk too much about how her pain made me feel. This was about her today! And, her pain was brand new and unique simply because it was hers. This was holy ground.

I had a very different experience leaving this friend’s home than I did leaving the high school reunion nearly a decade ago. This time, I wasn’t worried I should have said something different. I had weighed my words, relied on the Holy Spirit, and used the comfort I had been given—straight from God—to comfort this weary, broken-hearted mama. This time around, I have a much more rational grasp on what I have the power to do and what is out of my control. And, I actually think I may have helped.

In this case, I had a very similar experience to draw from, but there were still many differences. My loss was a two-year-old, hers a 20-week-old fetus. Our ethnic cultures are different. She and her husband describe themselves as private people. I…well, I am obviously not! I am using these differences to make an important point: You don’t have to have been down exactly the same road in order to comfort someone. You need only draw from the gifts God gave you when you needed them! Look back at 2 Corinthians 1:3-4. It says that God comforts us in ALL of our troubles so that we can comfort those in ANY trouble. Did you catch that? We can comfort those in ANY trouble with what God has given us. It’s kind of a “pay-it-forward” system.

No matter how inadequate we feel, we can be confident we will be equipped to help others because God promises to personally comfort us in ALL of our troubles.

He comforts us with His presence, guidance, and control.

o “Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.” Psalm 23:4

He comforts us with His promises.

o “My comfort in my suffering is this: Your promise preserves my life.” Psalm 119:50

He comforts us through His Word.

o “I remember, Lord, your ancient laws, and I find comfort in them.” Psalm 119:52

Best of all, God assures us the comfort we need will come directly from Him.

o “Shout for joy, you heavens; rejoice, you earth; burst into song, you mountains! For the LORD comforts his people and will have compassion on his afflicted ones.” Isaiah 49:13

o “I, even I, am he who comforts you.” Isaiah 51:12a

In other words, as believers (especially as we live, grow, and suffer ourselves) have exactly what it takes to be “first-class comforters”…instead of miserable ones!

When Small Talk Becomes Big Talk

2011-01-05T13:51:00.000-06:00

Strangers. Can’t live with ‘em. Can’t live without ‘em. They’re everywhere! In the grocery store, in a conference room, in the beauty shop, at every cash register, waiting to pick up kids at school. Everywhere we go, we chat with people in passing. Most of the time, the comments are benign. “Sun’s out again. Sure is a beautiful day!” We respond, “Sure is! Have a great one!” But, if you are stuck in line, introduced to a business associate, or assigned a seat next to someone on an airplane, the small talk gets upgraded a notch. At this point, mere comments morph into questions. There is the typical fare like “Where are you from?” and “What do you do for a living?” I have heard my husband complain about the latter. I mean, does what you do to make money define you? But, for Bryan and I, the MOTHER of all small talk questions is, “How many children do you have?” Um, do you want the long answer or the short one?

You want to know how answering that question makes me feel? Watch this.

I love this clip! It is so ridiculous that the actors can’t even keep a straight face. It makes me laugh every time I watch it. And, I identify with it 100%. In fact, we’ve been to Disney World twice since Audrey died, and I tried not to tell anyone at the time, but I couldn’t help but feel empty a lot of the time we were there. I noticed all of the families fighting and all of the morbidly obese people who couldn’t walk through the park and I wondered, “Lord, is this all there is? Is this really the happiest place on earth?” (Funny side note: In Mary Beth Chapman’s new book Choosing to See, she has a whole chapter about their trip to Disney World titled, “The Unhappiest Place on Earth”. Guess I’m not the only one.)

Anyway, take note of the SNL jingle:

♫“You’re enjoying your day. Everything’s going your way. Then along comes Debbie Downer. Always there to tell you about a new disease, a car accident, or killer bees. You’ll beg her to spare you, “Debbie, please!” But, you can’t stop Debbie Downer!”♪

Bryan and I have joked time and again about the Debbie Downer skit. After all, you have to keep your sense of humor. While being honest about the death of your child is not the same as being a negative pessimistic downer about everything, it is nevertheless a less-than-socially-acceptable choice in some circles. It is a very real dilemma we face almost daily. Do we tell the truth and risk making someone uncomfortable, or do we lie or bend the truth to protect others and in the process stuff our own feelings? Early on, we had to decide how we were going to talk about Audrey’s death. How will we define it for our children? How will we talk about her in extended family gatherings? How will we discuss our daughter and our grief amongst friends? What will we project to total strangers? When will we speak up? When will we be silent? What is the least painful way? What is the right thing to do? This is big stuff.

I bring up this topic because if you are dealing with anything serious, you know what I mean. You may have lost a child, too. But, it may be something completely different you are facing. Maybe your marriage is falling apart. Maybe you are struggling with a rebellious child. Whatever it is, small talk can hurt. When someone casually asks, “How are you doing?”…do they really want to know? How can you be sure? Will you say, “Fine, fine” when you’re not? What will the emotional backlash be, over time, when you continually have to pretend? Or, instead, will you say, “You know, truthfully, I’m having a hard time right now”? If you do, will you be forced to elaborate? Or, can you just leave it at that? Short and sweet, to the point…and honest. Probably not. Small talk can so often become BIG talk.

In December, I went to the home of a sweet, precious, hospitable neighbor for a ladies luncheon. All of the invitees were neighbors except for one woman who was a good friend of the hostess. She had recently moved here from out of state. As we all sat around the dining room table, in the course of the lunch conversation, I mentioned redecorating Audrey’s old bedroom for use as Bryan’s office. I noticed that the friend shot a glance at the hostess. I wondered, “Did I make her uncomfortable?” I concluded that maybe she didn’t know I had lost a child. People are often shocked by our tragedy. It’s nothing new. But, a few minutes later, she spoke up. “Did I hear you say you have a daughter who died? My 10-year-old son died of cancer three years ago.”

By then, lunch was almost over. And, people may have wanted to give the two of us some privacy to talk about what we had in common. I will give the benefit of the doubt because I know a lot of these ladies, and they have listened to me before. But, I kid you not: There is no better way to clear a room than to start talking about your child’s death! It is almost comical!

Ironically, as the woman and I talked, we discussed just how difficult it is to decide when and how to tell new acquaintances about our loss. She told me that her new counselor advised her not to put that information out there first because “it does not define her.” I felt like I had been stabbed in the gut when I heard those words. My initial reaction was to wonder, “What kind of wacky counselor would advise a grieving woman not to talk about her child?” I know I didn’t hide this well. I asked, “Are you ok with that?” She told me that she was and that she knew God was telling her it was time to put on new clothes, to remove her clothes of mourning. Not to “move on” but to “move forward”. Somehow that rubbed unsettlingly up against my line of thinking with regard to my own personal walk through grief.

All in all, we had a lovely conversation. I could tell we were both hungry for someone to identify with our pain, and I knew that this was a divine appointment. I tried to imagine leaving all of my support and starting over. I shuddered. When we parted ways, we exchanged information and agreed to contact one another. But, I couldn’t shake some icky feelings. First, I thought I had probably come on too strong, shared too much, and ruined the Christmas party for everyone else (Debbie Downer style). Second, I was bothered by this mom’s newfound peace about not defining herself by her loss. Was I doing that? Was I staying in my grief when I should be “moving forward”? Did she think I needed to change as much as I thought she did? What was the right way?

In the next few days, I visited her son’s website originally set up to keep family and friends updated on his condition and how they were all faring. I was amazed at the faith expressed in the pages. So many people loved and supported this beautiful family. A large sum of money had been raised to help him fight cancer and to help other children fight cancer in his name. The website included a video of his father preaching to their church, boldly proclaiming Christ in the midst of terrible tragedy. But, now, this brave mother was leaving everything known, everything that was home to her. In faith, she was following God into the next chapter. No wonder she had to look at things differently than me! I was so relieved when I received an email from her saying she was glad to meet me, wanted to mail me something, and looked forward to getting to know me. Even if she was just being nice, it was a relief!

A week later, I sent her a CD I love and she sent me a Bible study excerpt that had recently changed her perspective. My CD shows how one family is being transparent in grief, standing on Scripture, and publicly teaching. Her Bible study shows how one woman decided to throw off her mourning clothes in exchange for a new wardrobe so that she could receive the next thing God had planned for her (see the book of Ruth). Both, I realized, are sincere and right responses from people who desperately sought God’s hand in their pain.

In hindsight, I don’t know why I thought there was a “right” way to handle things. God revealed to me that my problem was thinking that either of us was wrong. This sweet woman told me that since she is a “rule follower” she doesn’t read books about grief because she knows it would make her feel like she was “doing it wrong”. I heard in my head: Hello, pot. This is the kettle. You’re black! I was doing the same thing by comparing my response to hers! What if God had two different plans for two different people? Isn’t that possible? Duh.

I have concluded that there is certainly more than one right way to respond to the “mother of all small talk questions”. But, you do have to pick one. So, how do I respond? Usually with the truth. “I have three children. Two here and one in Heaven.” Does that make some people uncomfortable? Yes! Sometimes, it ends the conversation dead in its tracks. And, sometimes, it provides the perfect opportunity to share my faith. One thing I expect: it’s always a gamble. I never know which way it is going to go. But, I choose to answer this way because I want the chance to share Jesus with people. Often, I am given the opportunity to encourage someone else in their grief or pain. It may be uncomfortable for some to hear, but I am convinced that discomfort is not the world’s worst evil. In fact, often, we must be uncomfortable to grow. I also don’t believe that I am sharing about Audrey or our loss simply to hear myself talk. If I thought what I had to say was depressing, I would shut up! But, I don’t believe that for one minute. What I have to share is HOPE! I have found the keys to the kingdom. I have lost a child, and I still have HOPE! I want to let others in on this little secret of mine. It’s a good one.

It has been a process, but I am becoming very comfortable with being that crazy lady who is always talking about Jesus and her deceased child. Sure, it comes up in settings where the social norm is to discuss Christmas decorating, school events, and the latest episode of Modern Family (which I think is hilarious, by the way). But, that matters to me less and less. You know why? Because people are dying inside to just say what they’re feeling. Many people at a party and in the midst of day-to-day affairs are harboring their own pain, questioning matters of life and death and faith. I’m just there to make it easier for them to be honest and to point them to the One who is still on the throne.

Yes, the answer to the “mother of all small talk questions” was decided for me long before I ever faced this dilemma. It was decided the day God made me who I am. Sarah’s my name, BIG talk’s my game. However you decide to handle your pain, though, know that you have at least one comrade out there who gets how hard it is to make up your mind.

Surprised by Cake

2011-01-01T16:53:00.001-06:00

Happy New Year, everyone! Welcome to 2011. A Space Odessey. No, I’m just kidding! But, for those of us born in the good ol’ 19-somethings, it sounds like a futuristic space movie, doesn’t it? 2011. Weird.

As most do, we’ve been reflecting over the last week about what happened in our family in 2010. It’s amazing how quickly we forget all of the things that transpire in a relatively short period of time. For us, 2010 included a 10-day kid-free trip to Hawaii, the birth of an adorable nephew, the wedding of a dear friend, a family vacation to Washington, D.C., my parents’ 40th wedding anniversary celebration, my dad’s retirement, and the unexpected conception of two close friends’ babies (second-rounders…I mean the “I-thought-we-were-done…our-youngest-child-is-seven” kind). So many great things happened this year. But, in the Bryan Moran family, our standards are kind of low. It seems like a red-letter year when we go 12 months without a major tragedy. We still have had lots of crying and fighting through to do, but no new junk to deal with. We consider that a really good thing. I would like to see about 10 more years in a row like that. God knows I’ve asked Him for it.

But, the truth is that none of us knows what 2011 will bring. With God, we are on a “need to know” basis. Our great adventure with Him does not include a lot of advanced warning, does it?

Two nights ago we went bowling for my sister-in-law’s birthday. When we left the bowling alley, we got in the car and headed to a family member’s home for birthday cake. From the back seat of the van, my girls piped up. “Hey, we didn’t know we were going to Aunt Tricia’s for cake! Nobody told us!” My dad remarked, “Well, you didn’t need to know. All you need to do is to be surprised by cake.”

It was a simple comment, really. But, it was profound. Really profound. My kids are on a “need to know” basis with us. We are their parents. We love them with a fierce love. We know what is going to happen next, and most of the time, the kids don’t need advanced warning. They live in a trusting relationship with us. We know what they need, and we provide it. And, sometimes, we bless them unexpectedly.

There may just be a theme here, because, again, I am challenged to relate to God like a trusting child. I am to live my life with abandon, following God wherever He leads. Heck, I don’t know where that is!! But, it can’t hurt me to trust Him. “I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord. Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future.” (Jeremiah 29:11). I’ve heard that verse a million times, but it strikes me differently today. Take the first phrase, for instance. “I know the plans I have for you.” The key lies in who the “I” is. It is the God of the universe talking to me here! And, He knows what He is doing. Nothing is an accident. I don’t need to know what is going to happen because God already does. And, he intends to use everything that happens to me—good or bad—to prosper me. That doesn’t need to make sense to me. I just need to believe it. If God loves me and God is in control, then what do I have to lose by trusting Him with my whole heart?

In keeping with that attitude, I’m excited about this year. I know my Heavenly Father better than I ever have before. The One who says, “I know the plans I have for you,” loves me with a fierce love. He wants to prosper me, no matter what comes. And, He will.

With Bryan and I as their parents, Caroline and Mary Claire are free. They are free to play and have fun and enjoy life. They are free to learn and grow and try new things and make mistakes. They are free to dream and to hope and to explore everything life has to offer. In the arms of my Heavenly Father, I’m free, too.

In 2011, and for time and eternity, all I need to do is to be surprised by cake.

“Now to Him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to Him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen.”
--Ephesians 3:20-21

Dive—Steven Curtis Chapman

“The long awaited rains
Have fallen hard upon the thirsty ground
And carved their way to where
The wild and rushing river can be found
And like the rains
I have been carried here to where the river flows yeah
My heart is racing and my knees are weak
As I walk to the edge
I know there is no turning back
Once my feet have left the ledge
And in the rush I hear a voice
That's telling me it's time to take the leap of faith
So here I go

I'm diving in I'm going deep in over my head I want to be
Caught in the rush lost in the flow in over my head I want to go
The river's deep the river's wide the river's water is alive
So sink or swim I'm diving in

There is a supernatural power
In this mighty river's flow
It can bring the dead to life
And it can fill an empty soul
And give a heart the only thing
Worth living and worth dying for yeah
But we will never know the awesome power
Of the grace of God
Until we let ourselves get swept away
Into this holy flood
So if you'll take my hand
We'll close our eyes and count to three
And take the leap of faith
Come on let's go”

Repositioning

2010-12-14T11:49:00.001-06:00

Is there anybody out there who wants to be child-centered at the holidays but battles their inner Martha Stewart?! It’s like I have an angel on one shoulder and the devil on the other. Their conversation goes something like this:

Angel: “Oh, look at how lovely it is to see you and your family decorating your tree together! The kids are getting big enough to help out. They love to open the boxes, discover forgotten ornaments, and reminisce about who made them. It is just heart-warming.”

Devil: “Yeah, but the kids keep hanging several ornaments in one place and weighing down the branches. You should just move them when they are not looking. It won’t hurt their feelings if they don’t see you do it!”

Ugh. It is embarrassing, but it is true. Every Christmas, I desire to be a mom who is more about the process than the outcome, but the frustrated interior decorator in me fights back. Everyone else seems to be having a good time, but inside of me, it is all-out war!

Once the initial decorating is complete, I spend the rest of the month trying to keep things picked up so that it continues to look lovely and feels peaceful in my home. The irony is that there is no peace when I am constantly trying to keep things clean! Can anyone relate?

We have a new nativity set that was given to us by my parents last year. A few weeks ago, the kids unwrapped the figurines and marveled over them one by one. Later, I placed them on the chest of drawers at the bottom of our stairs so that we could see them often and enjoy them throughout the season.

The next day, I noticed that the wise men had meandered a bit. The shepherds and the animals had also journeyed across the credenza. The kids had obviously been playing with them. I tried to resist the OCD urge, but it got the better of me…I stopped and took the time to tediously rearrange the figurines the way I thought they should look. I made sure they were properly aligned and that they took up the whole space…you know, like it would look in an ad in a magazine. Pleased with my work, I went on with my day and forgot about it.

But, try as I may to keep order, I keep finding those silly people repositioned when I’m not looking. Every time I rearrange them, I turn around and find the whole crew crowded up around the baby.

And, I know why! When my kids picture the story of Jesus’ birth, they imagine that everyone wanted to get a good look at the baby. They suspect that whoever was there wanted to get right up in Jesus’ grill. Of course, they did!

My kids really got me thinking about my preconceived idea of that manger scene. Do I really think that those shepherds who saw angels were really going to come find the Messiah and then just hang back as if they were onlookers at a golf tournament? Polite clapping, anyone? I don’t think so! The Bible reports that the shepherds said, “Let’s go straight to Bethlehem to see what has happened, which the Lord has made known to us.” (Luke 2:15b) Then, it states, “They hurried off and found both Mary and Joseph, and the baby who was lying in the feeding trough.” (Luke 2:16) They were excited! They were in a hurry! They made a beeline for the baby! And, I bet they wanted to see what had happened up close and personal.

What about those wise men? Now, the Bible says they didn’t arrive until Jesus was a toddler, so placing them in the nativity scene is all wrong, but we can still imagine that once they got there, they didn’t hang back. Matthew’s gospel tells us that the wise men came to see Jesus for one purpose: to worship Him! Even if they reverently brought their gifts and laid them at His feet, do you really think they stayed at an arm’s length? They were looking for the star long before it appeared, and they traveled a long way to see the fulfillment of the prophecy. Don’t you imagine they wanted to touch the baby? Don’t you imagine they wanted to see if all of this that was prophesied was real?

I think my girls have the right idea. I told Bryan about the way they kept repositioning the figurines. That night, he came downstairs from tucking them into bed and reported that the nativity scene upstairs was in the same condition. It makes me smile from ear to ear. How can we hear from God if we are not willing to draw near to Him? I want to be close enough to read His lips!

Years after Jesus’ birth, when children were trying to get close to Him, His disciples corrected them, but Jesus replied, “Let the little children come to me, for such as theirs is the kingdom of Heaven.” (Matthew 19:14, Mark 10:14, Luke 18:16) Three of the four gospels tell this story. The message must have needed repeating. Jesus was saying that unless we are willing to crawl up into his lap like little children, we will not inherit the kingdom of God. We will not be able to receive all he has for us unless we are willing to draw near like children do.

Psalm 84:3,10 says, “Even the sparrow has found a home, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may have her young—a place near your altar, Lord Almighty, my King and my God…better is one day in your courts than a thousand elsewhere.” If little children and even the birds find their home in the presence of the Lord, then so should I.

Oh, God, draw me closer! Pull me in! Show me who you are! Help me reposition myself so that I can receive all you have to give me.

The crowd at the manger remains on my credenza. There is not a breath between them. There is no order. In fact it is outright chaos. They are elbowing each other trying to see who is going to get a closer look. I think the baby likes it.

The Hand You Were Dealt

2010-12-08T23:02:00.000-06:00

My husband really enjoys playing poker with the guys. Next to golf, poker is one of his favorite ways to relax with friends. For Christmas 2005, the kids and I gave him a deluxe set of poker chips in a nice, sturdy silver case. A few months later, while my mother stayed with us, Bryan left for a guy’s night out, poker set in hand.

At the dinner table, my mom asked Caroline (then 4) to tell her what Daddy was doing that night. “He is with his friends. They’re putting a puzzle together,” she replied. I giggled. “How do you know that?” my mother asked, amused. “Because he has puzzle pieces in his lunchbox!” Caroline exclaimed.

I have a life-sized picture of that in my mind...a bunch of grown men just hanging out around the table eating Doritos, drinking Mountain Dew, and…putting together a puzzle! Caroline obviously didn’t have a clue about poker!

The rest of us, however, have at least a general knowledge of the game. Your success depends on several things (not the least of which is the ability to bluff, which is why I cannot play worth a hill of beans). It depends more, though, on the hand you are dealt—and your ability to play that hand well.

Two nights ago I was talking to a friend on the phone. She was encouraging me to participate in a weekend retreat that she insisted would help me heal. She prodded, “Of all the people I know who need this, you are the one who just HAS to go.” I know this friend’s heart, and I am confident she would not steer me toward something unless she thought it would benefit me. But, I had to wonder, what is it about me that makes me the ONE person she knows who needs it most? Pride getting in the way, I had to inquire, “Is there something you see in me that makes you want me to go? Is there something in my healing process I am overlooking?” “No,” she said, “I just thought about people I know who have been dealt a really crummy hand, and you come to mind.”

Nice. But, I get why she said that. Anybody who looks at what has happened to me in the past few years can see that I have suffered a lot at once. And, most of it has been completely out of my control. Taking in her remark, I began to get indignant with God. Yeah! I really have been dealt a crummy hand! What’s up with that, God?

Yesterday, I perused my pastor’s “e-votionals” and came across one titled, “Right Now with God.” He discussed the importance of (and the difficulty of) living in the present. He told the story of a woman in prison for murder who maintains to this day that she is innocent. She says she tries to think about what life was like before prison and what it will be like after she is released. She rarely thinks about where she really is. My pastor, mulling over her statement, asked, “How many of us who are free sentence ourselves to a prison of a lost yesterday and an unknown tomorrow?”

Great question. I often have a very hard time enjoying my present. Bryan and the kids, not so much. But, me? Yep. I’m flat out bad at it. It takes a lot for me to lose myself in the moment. It happened once this week that I know of…I was jumping on the trampoline with the girls, and I lost track of space and time. But, it was brief. And, for me, the occurrence is rare.

Last night I was looking at some family pictures from 2006. It was a tough year. I felt sick most of that year and didn’t know why for a long time. My mother-in-law was dying of brain cancer. Bryan and I were chunky—not just a little chunky. And, we looked tired. Because we were. We were young and overwhelmed (parenting three children under age 5) and we were just trying to stay afloat.

But, as I looked at those pictures, I realized that struggle was not the only story of 2006. I saw all three of my adorable little girls with their arms entwined around each other on so many “ordinary” days. I saw innocent times with lots of backyard play and summer fun. I saw dress-up and creek exploration. I saw mealtime and park time and snack time and birthdays and all of the regular stuff of life—all of the “present” moments. And, I remembered it was oh, so good. It was good!

I began to think about what my friend had said: “You have been dealt a crummy hand.” And, I thought about my heart’s subconscious agreement with that. Then, I thought about my pastor’s question: “How many of us who are free sentence ourselves to a prison of a lost yesterday and an unknown tomorrow?” I wondered how many moments I had missed in 2006 (or in any other year, for that matter) because I was imprisoned by my discontent with what had happened or my fear of what might happen. All at once, as if branding my soul, God opened me up and poured in the truth where bitterness had taken root: “You, my beloved,” He said to me, “have been dealt a very, very good hand.” He was right.

Maybe I don’t have a royal flush. But, who would call four aces and a two a bad hand?! We are so often tempted to define our lives by our disadvantages, our trials, our misfortunes, and our pain. I don’t know why it is, but that is just human nature—sin nature. I will always talk about my pain because it has certainly changed me. And, I believe that others who are hurting can benefit from knowing they are not alone in the struggles of life on this earth. There is much to be learned in the school of suffering. But, mark my words: my misfortunes do not define my life! And, they certainly have not dominated it! I pray that I will forever characterize my life by my blessings. They far outnumber my hardships. Furthermore, spiritually, I have inherited EVERYTHING that Christ has been given from God. The Bible says I am co-heir. It says I am entitled to everything the firstborn son has. Wow!

What cards are in your hand? How are you going to play them? Are you sentencing yourself to a prison of a lost yesterday and an unknown tomorrow? Or, can you freely rest in the present? Just because you live in this country and you can read this blog on your computer, it is likely that your present is very, very good indeed.

Learning to live in light of our present blessings is a form of worship. Will you try something with me? Look around you. What does your NOW look like? I see my little girls chilling out in a cozy living room glittering with twinkle lights. I smell the pizza I ordered an hour ago so that I could chill out, too! I hear the carefree sounds of an episode of Phineas and Ferb. I taste the ice cold Diet Dr. Pepper I am drinking so that I can “wake up” for Night of Praise rehearsal at church tonight. And, I feel the tap, tap, tap of the keys on my laptop while snuggling in the soft, red throw blanket on my couch. A pretty great present, if you ask me. In every sense of the word.

An Honest Question

2010-12-01T14:42:00.000-06:00

At the Moran household, the Christmas season started earlier than usual this year. When we found out Caroline is allergic to nearly every pollen God made, we decided to scrap our tradition of going to cut down a real Christmas tree. We had to grieve the change. All of us like the look, feel, and smell of a real tree. And, we have always made great memories hunting for one. Alas, wisdom told us that holding onto our tradition was not worth sacrificing our child’s health, so we made the switch. Looking on the bright side, we don’t have to worry about how long this tree will last, so we put it up on the day after Thanksgiving, blasted the Christmas carols, lit the “Christmas wreath” candle (I’ve got to have the smell somehow!) and got to enjoying the holidays.

Both of our girls have taken our cue by really jumping into the celebration. Caroline has been taking piano lessons for a few short months, but she is pounding out the melodies of her favorite carols. I love finding her practicing when no one is watching. She has also led our family in lighting the advent wreath at the dinner table, looking up corresponding Scriptures, and singing together. Having big kids is fun. Last night, we watched “The Nativity Story”. It is a non-animated version of the Biblical account of Christmas. I enjoyed the thoughtful questions that my children interjected as we watched. Some days I cannot believe what they already understand. It blows my mind.

But, it was what occurred after the movie was over that really got me thinking. Our movie discussion led to a dialogue about Heaven. Conversations in our household often do. I told my girls about a book I read last week titled, “Heaven is for Real” by Todd Burpo. It is a pastor’s story of his four-year-old son’s trip to Heaven and back. Sounds far-fetched, but after checking references and reading the book critically, I am confident it lines up with Scripture and that it is entirely probable it is true. Caroline and Mary Claire’s eyes lit up as I told them about little Colton’s story. They begged me to show them the book and read from it. As they nestled themselves in bed, I read aloud some of my favorite passages. Caroline asked me to let her take the book to school so that she could read it during her free time. I was struck by the passion she expressed when she said to me, “Oh, Mommy, I want to go to Heaven so badly! I want to see it! I want to be there!” After I put her to bed, I thought to myself, “What eight-year-old kid says stuff like that?” And, I praised God for making a life-altering change in my family.

If this was the only time my children had said they want to go to Heaven, I would not blink, really. But, they talk about it ALL the time. Seriously. We played a game at the dinner table one night called “Would You Rather”. We took turns giving each other questions like, “Would you rather play in the snow or go to the beach?” And we threw in a couple of dilemmas like, “Would you rather lick an elephant or kiss a lizard?” It was silly fun. Then, Mary Claire piped up, “Would you rather live forever or …?” I honestly don’t remember the second part of her question, but I do remember Caroline’s response. “Well, Mary Claire, I want to go to Heaven, so I don’t really want to live forever.” Mary Claire clarified, “That’s what I mean. You will live forever in Heaven.” “Oh,” Caroline replied matter-of-factly, “Then, I want to live forever, of course!”

You know the Scripture in Deuteronomy (6:7) where we are instructed to talk about God, “when we sit in our house, when we walk along the road, when we lie down, and when we get up”? Well, we do. And, in the last three years, invariably, when we have talked about God, our conversation has turned toward the eternal. Since we lost Audrey, life is different. Not just bad different. Good different, too.

Can I ask you an honest question? Do you want to go to Heaven? No one is looking at you, so just get real and acknowledge the truth in your heart. What is your gut reaction when you hear the question? Let’s try one more. Do you want Jesus to come back?

I have discovered that the answer to these two questions is an excellent diagnostic test for the health and maturity of our faith. Less than three years ago, my answer to both questions was “no.” You might think that was because I was not too interested in spiritual things or didn’t spend time studying my Bible or talking with God. And, you would be dead wrong. I was passionate about my relationship with God. Why, then, did I not want Jesus to come back? Why didn’t I desire Heaven? Two reasons, I think: 1) A wrong view of the present world, and 2) A wrong view of Heaven. In short, I had an improper perspective. I didn’t see myself and my life in light of God’s bigger plan.

I was really attached to this world, even if that meant overlooking how many things are wrong here. In some ways, I thought I was invincible. I remember thinking not too long ago that I didn’t want Jesus to come back before I got married and had children. With each passing phase of life, that list just got longer and longer. There was so much I wanted to live for—and that was not bad in and of itself. But, suffering has lifted the veil from my eyes. I am no longer under the impression that this world (in its present state) is a good place to live. My eyes have been opened to the impact of sin—the rampant destruction it causes. And, I have tasted the bitterness of death. Once that happened, my perspective was broadened. I started paying attention to suffering in other parts of the world and to suffering throughout history. I stopped living blindly in my relatively wealthy and comfortable existence. God showed me why we need a Savior and why He simply must come back to redeem His people and this place we call home.

One of the verses of “Joy to the World” reads, “No more let sin and sorrow grow, nor thorns infest the ground. He comes to make His blessings flow, far as the curse is found, far as the curse is found, far as, far as the curse is found.” That last phrase makes an impression on me. We don’t often take the time to think about how far-reaching the curse really is. Some evidence? This is the verse most often cut out when people want to shorten the hymn. I have a version printed from the internet which doesn’t even include the verse. My awesome Casting Crowns Christmas CD has a version of Joy to the World that also leaves out this verse. We sing “He rules the world”, but we don’t understand how far reaching His rule will be and how much will change when He returns. The curse extends over people, but it also extends over the earth. God’s Word says He intends to redeem it all.

Once we change our perspective on this world, though, it is imperative that we increase our understanding of Heaven. If we understand the impact of sin and death on earth and we do not have a clear Biblical picture of where we are going from here, we risk despair. Opening our eyes to the reality of the world as it is can be quite depressing without seeing it through the lens of eternity. Just turn on the news. I didn’t watch it for 2 years straight because I couldn’t handle how sad it was. Once I began to study Heaven—really mull it around in my mind, dream about it, imagine it—I obtained a sense of purpose I never had before. Rather than making me want to leave this sorry place, it made me want to stay and do what God made me to do until I get to go home. Isn’t that interesting? That is why I want my little girls to have a love for Heaven—not just so that they can see their sister again, but so that they will live out the rest of their days here with purpose, joy, and hope.

I used to shut out sad stories, try not to think about other people’s pain for too long, and I avoided the news like the plague. Now, I watch it a little every day. I don’t have to pretend that evil and suffering don’t exist. I don’t have to put them out of sight so that they will be out of mind. In fact, I embrace them because they give me a greater compassion for others, a greater thankfulness for my own blessings, a deeper longing for Christ’s return, and a more urgent motivation to share the gospel with boldness.

Here’s something worth noting: I didn’t get my new perspective by osmosis. You know, we joked about it in school…we wished we could just sleep with our books under our pillows and wake up ready for the test! Ah, but reality is that anything worth knowing requires study. It requires intentionality. I have pursued a knowledge of Heaven, I have asked God to reveal more about His plan to me, and I have made a concerted effort to change the way I think about—well, about almost everything. This new perspective was hard-earned. It was a result of chasing after God in the midst of the refiner’s fire. And, He is not done with me yet.

So, I ask you: What was your answer to the question? Do you want to go to Heaven? Note that I am not asking, “Do you want to go to Heaven when you die?”. I am asking, “Do you desire Heaven?” If your answer is no (or any shade of “yes, but…”), then let me issue you a challenge. Start by praying. Ask God to show you why you don’t desire Heaven. Ask Him to increase your desire for it. Ask Him to loosen your grip on this world. Ask Him to show you how thinking about eternity could improve your here and now. Then, Christian sister or brother, study! Devour Scripture. Eat it up like you need it to survive. Seek out books about Heaven. I guarantee that as you do, road blocks to your personal spiritual growth will come crashing down. We simply cannot enjoy the abundant life without having a clear picture of where we are going.

Finally, make it part of your worship as you contemplate Christmas and Jesus’ birth. As you celebrate, ask God to draw you a picture of the fullness of His plan. Christ was born. Christ died. Christ arose. Christ will come again. The writers of our beloved Christmas carols knew the secret. They knew that the world is under a curse, they longed for a “better and enduring possession” (Hebrews 10:34), and they looked for Jesus’ return. They knew that God’s redemptive work did not stop at the cross or even at the empty tomb. Consider the message from a few of my favorites:

From “O Come, O Come Emmanuel”

“O come, thou Dayspring from on high, and cheer us by thy drawing nigh; disperse the gloomy clouds of night, and death’s dark shadow put to flight. Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel.”

From “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear”

“For lo, the days are hastening on, by prophet bards foretold, when with the ever circling years come round the age of gold, when peace shall over all the earth its ancient splendors fling, and the whole world send back the song which now the angels sing.”

From “Angels From the Realm of Glory”

“Saints before the alter bending, watching long in hope and fear; Suddenly the Lord descending, in His temple shall appear. Come and worship, come and worship, worship Christ the newborn King.”

May your Christmas worship and celebration be full of the hope of Heaven!

The Gold Seal

2010-11-18T17:45:00.000-06:00

I hope you’re prepared for Christmas. Ready or not, here it comes. You may still be looking forward to giving thanks, but Target and WalMart have moved on. Everywhere you go, decorations are going up. I am usually diametrically opposed to bringing out the Christmas stuff before the turkey is digested, but this year I decided that starting the celebration a little early wouldn’t hurt a thing. Caroline and I made a Christmas playlist on our iPods last night. The worshipful music of Christmas really gets me in the mood.

For our family, a typical Christmas season includes at least one trip to Hallmark for cards and wrapping paper. In my opinion, greeting cards are one of the biggest rackets on the planet. Those suckers can cost upwards of $5 a piece! But, can’t a well-timed and well-worded card just make your day? Maybe even your year? I think so. And, you know it is a Hallmark card when you see that gold seal on the envelope. If you don’t recognize the gold seal, you probably didn’t grow up in America. If there is one thing we are good at as a nation, it is advertising. We know our brand names here. And, Hallmark’s signature is that gold seal. It is supposed to be a symbol of the quality of the card—a mark of its worth and value.

But, have you ever thought that the gold seal might just be a little misleading? The outside may have a gold seal, but it doesn’t guarantee that the card inside is truly a Hallmark card. Even if it is, the card inside could be less than tasteful . Or, maybe, the person giving you the card has ill-intent. Maybe what they wrote inside the card wasn’t very nice. My point is you really don’t know until you open the envelope. The outside of things can be very misleading. Things aren’t always what they seem.

On the day that we buried Audrey, I faced the cemetery with trepidation. I had been in so much shock that I had wanted nothing to do with the physical aspect of the funeral preparation and burial. It was just too hard for me. Bryan and our dads did the difficult work of meeting with the funeral director and making decisions. So, while I helped plan the celebration of Audrey’s life that we held in the church, I had essentially no idea what was going to take place at the cemetery. Feeling like a lamb walking to the slaughter, I took a deep breath and approached the tiny coffin under the green tent, all the while trying to understand that it was really my little girl inside. I don’t remember anyone else around me. I hope someone held my husband’s and my children’s hands. Maybe I did. All I remember is making a beeline for my baby.

I had chosen not to see her after the accident. I had put her in the car seat of my friend’s van on that morning, kissed her goodbye, and blown her a kiss as I watched the vehicle drive away. I remember very clearly the smile on her face. That was the last time I laid eyes on her physical body. There had been three days of separation from her since that fateful moment, and I was coming near to her body for the last time on this earth. It was surreal.

At the side of the casket, I collapsed to my knees and placed my arms over it. I remember asking the orientation of her head and feet. I wanted to hold her so badly. My mother knelt down beside me. All at once, I remember being aware of the casket. It was white with a textured fake-velvet look to it. It felt like a cheap box of chocolates. I was horrified. I shot a distressed look at the man from the cemetery. It seemed like such an unfit way to send my child out of the world. I was always fastidious about the way I groomed and dressed her. The three matching dresses I had just purchased for my daughters for Christmas that year—smocked with snowmen—had arrived just in time to bury Audrey in one. My airways were constricting as I came to the realization that I was going to have to bury her in this crummy, cheap box. Sensing my disgust, the funeral director said, “Ma’am, I’m so sorry. It was all we had in stock. We just don’t need coffins this size very often. I told your husband that we could order something better, but we would have had to delay the funeral.”

Letting that news sink in, my mother and I knelt in silence for a while. Then, I saw her reach around the side of the coffin and pick at something. She began to chuckle. “Oh, God,” she said, “There is a gold sticker on the side of this thing! Do you mind if I take it off?” Some of the last few minutes at my daughter’s side were spent picking a stupid little gold sticker off of her coffin. It was one of the weirdest moments of my life.

I wish that were the end of the weirdness at the cemetery, but it wasn’t. Our pastor said some lovely and truth-filled things (that I admittedly don’t remember), and that was the only good thing about the burial. After his brief sermon was over, an odd woman emerged with a cage full of white pigeons. (Apparently, this is a service offered free of charge by the funeral home and was billed as something that may be “concrete” and meaningful for my children, so my husband, in his grief, said, “Why not?”) The woman made a corny speech about releasing the birds and symbolically releasing Audrey’s spirit. Then she proceeded to pull out a battery-operated jam box and play the reggae version of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” (About now you may be thinking, “Are you kidding?” Trust me, I wish I was.) I wanted to shove the woman, bless her heart. She really was trying to help. But, this could not have been more incongruous considering the hopeful, Biblical service we had just had at church. And, it could not have been less of a representation of our family’s heart or personality than it was. The woman handed the birds to Bryan and I and the girls and then coached us when to let them go. I hate birds, by the way. I didn’t want to touch them. But, I was trying to cooperate. I think I may have shaken my head and laughed. Again, I was horrified.

I don’t want to give the impression that any of the weird things about the burial were Bryan’s fault. Really, he was merely letting the funeral home do what they were supposed to do best. But, it was devoid of the meaning we needed to feel victorious over the death of our child. In short, it felt like a cheap representation of the truth. The irony was that a gold seal, which usually indicates quality and worth, symbolized for me the utter emptiness of the world’s take on death.

Things aren’t always what they seem. Never had that been so glaringly apparent to me as it was kneeling next to my baby’s coffin that day. God was already helping me to see that though this looked like the end, it was indeed the beginning of something very significant. Not only was it the beginning of Audrey’s eternal life unmarred by sin and death, but for me it was the commencement of a journey to gain an eternal perspective and to live with eternal hope. It looked as if I were putting my daughter into the ground in an ugly cardboard box, when the truth is that she will be coming out of that box in a glorified body on resurrection day!

I don’t think I had ever given that a thought before. Not only does the Bible promise Heaven for those who trust Christ, it also promises that when Christ returns, there will be bodily resurrection for believers. And, it promises a human existence on a resurrected earth—the New Earth. Read Paul’s diatribe on bodily resurrection in 1 Corinthians 15. He says we are to be pitied more than anyone if we only hope in Christ for this life and we do not believe we will be raised just as Christ was raised (v 19). Verses 42-43 say of the resurrection of the dead, “Sown in corruption, raised in incorruption; sown in dishonor (as I feel Audrey was buried), raised in glory; sown in weakness, raised in power.”

That gold sticker has come to symbolize for me the stamp of the world on death. It is the world’s seal of approval on the hollow (or, at the very least, shallow) explanation of what happens to a person after they die. There are many beliefs, but only one that is true, only one that comforts. And, I have found that even amongst Christians, we have not spent near enough time studying the subject. It is uncomfortable and inconvenient. We figure we can put it off. But, our hollow explanations do not cut it when we are putting a loved one’s body in the ground. We must know more. That is why I have made it a passion of mine to study what the Bible has to say about what awaits us. And, I am so excited about what I have learned. It has changed my life. Will you let it change yours?

As we approach Thanksgiving, I hope you will join me in celebrating the amazing gift of eternal life we have inherited as believers in Jesus. “Therefore, since we are receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, let us be thankful, and so worship God acceptably with reverence and awe.” (Hebrews 12:28)

And, as we approach the Christmas season, let us do so with great joy. Let us remember that Christ’s birth was the answer to the world’s groaning since the first sin. Emmanuel: God with us. The fulfillment of God’s promise to send the Messiah is proof that He will also fulfill His promise of Christ’s return. May we learn to long for it!

Does Time Heal All Wounds?

2010-11-14T08:21:00.002-06:00

Bryan told me that our friend Tim recently took his 11-year-old, Hannah, to a homecoming rally. Tim lamented that, instead of hanging out with her like he expected, he ended up waiting for her while she talked with her friends. Poor daddy! I remember sitting next to Hannah’s car seat when we first became friends with Tim and Bethany. Hannah was just a 10-month-old, chubby ball of cuteness. I loved everything about her. (Still do!) She learned to walk on top of my kitchen table in our first apartment. We fed her Oreos late into the evening to keep her occupied while we played cards. Probably not the most responsible thing, but we adored her! I wanted a baby of my own so badly then. That was when Bryan and I were just wide-eyed dreamers. Laughing about how things change, Bryan commented, “We are old now.” Yeah, in some ways, I guess we are getting there. But, it’s against my will! Lately, I’m so mad about time passing the way it does! But, I’m not mad for the reasons of the average Joe.

One night, as I was taking a bath, I thought I heard and saw one of the kids at the bathroom door. They often get out of bed after being tucked in. But, I realized I was just imagining things. My mind ran away from me and began to draw pictures and create scenes…I wondered, if it were Audrey at my door, how tall would she be? Would her head now be doorknob-high or higher? I tried to imagine her standing there in her nightgown. What would it be like if I could still call her name out loud, even if I could call it in my “mom” voice? I’d say, “Audrey, why are you out of your bed? I just tucked you in.” And, she’d say something like, “Mommy, I’m really thirsty,”…to which I’d reply, “Go get yourself a sip of water, and then get back upstairs.” As she scuttled away, I’d yell after her, “I love you! I’ll be there to check on you in a few minutes!” Then, I’d go up in my nightgown and hug her one more time and smother her with kisses for good measure.

Coming back to my cold, hard reality that night, I began to ponder the passing of time and getting “old”. I do the same today. Today is Audrey’s Heavenly birthday. It is the day we struggle to celebrate, the day she entered glory and ran into Jesus’ embrace. Since Audrey’s death, three years have gone by against my will…three years of time and space traveling in the wrong direction. Three years far away from the time I could remember what it felt like to hold Audrey and hear her voice. Three years since I took care of her every need day in and day out. Three years since I saw her play with her sisters. Three years since I had three children and the world seemed right to me. And, contrary to the wisdom of the world, I am not one step closer to accepting her death. If you read my very first blog, then you know that last year, at the second anniversary of her death, we had not yet purchased a permanent marker for her grave. Another year has gone by, and still I cannot bring myself to buy one.

Sure, I can function. I eat and sleep…most of the time. I hold down the fort and even want to think about my future some days. I hope for more children. I figure if that doesn’t happen I can live with it. I find joy in things. I cry a lot, but I can manage it, even if I have to live this way for the rest of my life. I have loads of fun with Caroline and Mary Claire. I dream about Bryan and I finally moving along in the same groove for the same kingdom purpose, and I get excited about what God has in store. Nevertheless, I think to myself, “I would love to know what my life would be like now if the accident never happened.” When I start to try to imagine it, I feel defeated before I begin. It is a useless train of thought. Agitated, I begin to rage helplessly against time-- not because I care that I am getting wrinkles or that I can no longer tolerate caffeine after 4 p.m. if I want to get a good night’s sleep. I rage against these three years because they seem to have taken me farther and farther away from my baby. It’s like I was put on a boat I didn’t want to get on and set adrift, only to float far away from where I wanted to go.

They say “Time heals all wounds.” Uh, no it doesn’t. “D-U-E, duh!” Caroline recently said (and so hilariously misspelled). No, time has not healed this wound. And, I don’t think it will. I’m not being pessimistic or fatalistic. I’m just being honest. I know what people mean by this phrase. I have experienced other deaths in my life. And, to some extent, time has lessened the sting. But, those deaths were in the proper order of the universe. And, those people were not essential to the fulfillment of my every hope and dream. I have experienced other kinds of loss—even great loss—but so far I have had either the hope of earthly restoration or the promise that another dream will be able to fill the shoes of the one I could not have. Not so with my precious baby girl. Nobody, no thing can take her place. How is time supposed to make me more ok with this?

If time won’t heal this gaping wound, then what will? We know Jesus was a great healer. But, we probably recall how He made paralyzed people walk, gave sight to the blind, and even healed a woman who had been bleeding for years. That really isn’t the kind of healing I need. My heart is irrevocably broken. Good thing God remembered to mention that Jesus heals broken hearts, too. In fact, God says that is one of the reasons He sent Jesus in the first place. Isaiah 61:1 says, “The Spirit of the Lord God is on me (Jesus) because the Lord has…sent me to heal the brokenhearted…” That is good news. I don’t have to count on time to make things better. God has planned for a real, live person (a loving and omnipotent one at that) to take care of my heart. Psalm 30:2 says, “Lord my God, I cried to you for help, and you healed me.”

If Jesus heals the brokenhearted, though, then why do I still feel so awful? I know I belong to Him, and I have cried out to Him time and again to heal me. Why do I still grieve as I do? Why does it feel like I am walking along in life with a gaping hole blown through my chest? I think it is because I am. Other translations of Isaiah 61:1 read, “The Lord has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted.” And, Psalm 147:3 says, “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” Based on my personal experience, this wording makes more sense to me. Binding up a wound is a lot different than making it magically go away. Eventually, the wound closes up. The bleeding stops. Maybe the pain subsides a bit. But, at the very least, the scar remains. The bigger the original wound, the bigger the scar. I don’t know much about major injuries, but I don’t think I am wrong in assuming that sometimes, if you survive a terrible injury, you may have lifelong pain associated with it. It may not have killed you. The doctors may have wrapped it up, put it in a cast, or even performed surgeries. But, that wound may not be totally healed this side of Heaven. And, so it may be with a broken heart. At least it seems that way to me.

I really don’t mean that to be a downer. If God wanted to wave a magic wand and make my pain go away, I am sure He could. But, I am learning that if I can understand what God promises me—what I can count on Him to do—and what He doesn’t promise me, then I can live with less disappointment and bitterness and instead see God as loving and sovereign. I can see Him as someone who made plans to address my needs (and Audrey’s) and who has much bigger plans in mind for me than what I can perceive now.

Knowing what I do about God being the “binder of my wounds”, I still have a love/hate relationship with time. On the one hand, it has taken me far away from the dream I once had and has been the bearer of empty promises to heal me. But, on the other hand, time is the one thing taking me into the future God has in store for me. And, that future includes my baby girl! Though it is contrary to everything I can perceive and feel, the more time that passes, the closer I am to Audrey. Every day I live I am one day closer to seeing her again. One day closer to watching her walk through my doorway and hearing her ask me for something only I can provide. One day closer to seeing her daddy toss her in the air and kiss her cheek. One day closer to seeing Caroline’s and Mary Claire’s arms lovingly wrapped around Audrey’s neck so tight she cannot escape. One day closer to introducing her to adorable cousins who have been born since her death. One day closer to telling her everything I’ve wanted to say…like how desperately I tried to protect her, how sincerely I enjoyed her, how completely I wanted her, and how resolutely I am looking forward to everything God has planned for us…

When I consider that time is the only thing between me and my future with Audrey, time looks less and less like the hapless boat that took me away from her. Instead, the years ahead start to look like the hurdles I have to clear before I reach the finish line. Maybe someday I’ll be able to face the anniversary of Audrey’s death and see these hurdles in my rearview mirror as accomplishments instead of ominous reminders of what might have been.

Again, I let my mind wander. I imagine running and running, bounding over giant hurdles, year by year, sweat beading up on my forehead, gaining momentum with each step, all the while keeping my eyes on the prize: my beautiful little girl, smiling from ear to ear, shouting my name. She is waiting for me. She is cheering for me. Her arms are open wide.

Bring on the wrinkles!

I love you, Audrey. Happy Heavenly birthday! I am too weak of heart and mind to imagine all of the good things you are up to, too full of doubt to believe God in every moment as I would like, and too selfish to be as happy for you as I should. But, thankfully, God won’t let that keep you from enjoying His perfection until I get there and see it with my own eyes. Tell Thomas I’m jealous! Tell Jesus I need to touch His hands! Say a little prayer for Mommy. It’s hard waiting down here. But, there’s only time between me and you, and time is in God’s hands.

(This video was taken at Mary Claire's preschool Thanksgiving program just two days before Audrey died. Bryan said, "Audrey, sing Daddy a song." And, this is what she sang. Many, many of our friends and family members have enjoyed this video with us. I will always consider it a gift from God and a reminder that He is indeed "Strong!".)

A Battle for my Heart

2010-11-10T11:35:00.000-06:00

Our family has a new obsession: snakes, cockroaches, rodents, raccoons, alligators, and wasps. Weird? Yes, but nothing less than cool when they are removed and relocated by the nicest punk biker dude in Louisiana. Billy the Exterminator (on A&E) has been visiting our family room every evening for a few weeks now. My girls just love to watch him catch icky critters. Bryan hates snakes, but he also has a strange attraction to being scared by them on TV. I can play along, as long as I don’t have a need to call Billy to MY house.

Wouldn’t you know that last week I started hearing suspicious scratching and scampering noises in the attic over my bedroom! The first time I heard it, I nudged Bryan, “Do you hear that?!” I asked. He snored on, largely ignoring me. I thought to myself, “I have got to quit watching that show.” Then, again the next night, I heard the same sounds. This time, I made sure to wake Bryan up for the action. Yep. Definitely something up there. We began to imagine what kind of awesome creature might have found its way into our house. Maybe a possum? A raccoon? We decided we needed to investigate. Bryan texted me the next day, “Billy is out killing roaches in a mobile home. Do you have the number to another exterminator?” We coped with humor until we found out that our visitors were not so cool. We have rats. Come on friends (who make a little fun of me for keeping my house so clean) (you know who you are), laugh it up. I am the neatest neat nick on the planet, and I have rats. Yuck!

Maybe I would have kept laughing, despite being grossed out, if the next day had not added more trouble. I swear, when it rains, it pours. November is already a hard time for us, as we face the anniversary of Audrey’s death on the 14th. So, when we found ourselves responding to my eight-year-old Caroline’s severe abdominal pain with a trip to the ER, you can imagine where our minds went. We suspected that the antibiotic we had given her may have been making her tummy hurt, but we were surprised by the crocodile tears that preceded vomit and pain so great it made her yell, “Oh, God, let me die! Somebody help me!” Those are words that would break any mother’s heart and buckle her knees. Caroline looked pretty sick, and my mind went all kinds of places it shouldn’t have gone. As I watched her lying on the x-ray table, her face a pale shade of gray and her eyes rolling back in her head, I fought the fear of losing her, too. It was excruciating. Thank God for my strong husband who was also struggling but who helped to hold me up. With raised eyebrows, he firmly encouraged me to “keep it together.” By the grace of God, a little IV fluid and some anti-nausea drugs seemed to get things under control. After I knew the real danger had passed and Caroline was acting like herself again, I began to ponder how much one person can take. God, how much can one person take?

When we got home, Caroline was feeling great, but I collapsed on the couch. We had just picked up Mary Claire from a friend’s house, and she was anxious to tell us about her school day. She had been the “star student of the week.” On Monday, she took a poster full of pictures to school and shared about her family, friends, and interests. Then, at the end of the week, her teacher directed her classmates each to write her a personal letter. Bryan, Caroline, and I all lay on the couch like battle-weary soldiers while Mary Claire, grinning from ear to ear, sat on our fireplace hearth reading the letters to us one by one.

I could not believe the fearless way these children expressed themselves. Whether they were discussing common interests (“I am a Longhorn fan, too. They really need to do better.”), lavishing compliments (“I like your hair. You do make people laugh. You have a good voice in music. You rock me out!”), expressing sympathy (“I am so sorry that your sister is at Heaven. Do you miss her?”), or providing encouragement (“You spread joy in the class. I like that in you. Keep it up!”), they did it with abandon. The simple purity of these children’s soft hearts broke my heart, increasingly hardened by the day’s events. As I listened, I wept, and God’s Spirit began the work of mending the damage incurred.

During the next few days, I found myself still feeling traumatized by the trip to the ER. Then, the exterminators showed up with traps. Oh, yeah…on with the business of getting rid of the rats. As my mother said, “Off with their heads!” I asked the professional rodent trapper, “Will I hear the traps shutting?” He said, “Probably not. But, one man did hear it and then the rat flopped around for a while.” Are you serious? I was going to be sleeping in a house of horrors. I was totally disgusted. And, again, I was asking God, “REALLY?????” To top that off, the exterminator said to me on the way out of the door, “You should probably call a plumber today. Your hot water heater is leaking.” Sure it is.

Weeks like this make me want to crawl in a hole. Pull the covers up over my head. Wave the white flag. Cut my losses. In short, they make me lose heart. But, I consider the precious letters written by Mary Claire’s classmates and I am reminded that at one time my heart was purer, more hopeful, more willing to risk, more free. And, I see this whole thing for what it really is: a strategic, sustained assault on my heart. I have often been called a “Pollyanna”. Indeed, I am most inclined to look on the bright side of things. But, instead of that being a quality that people admire, it has often been criticized. I have been told to “manage my expectations” and have been called naive. From the beginning, there has been a steady assault on my heart. To this day, Satan is trying hard to squash what God created in me. The enemy wants me to give up, quit hoping, quit believing God. At the very least, he wants me to be so afraid to try anything or take a risk that he can keep me at bay. Well, I’m onto him. “Nice try, Satan,” as Joyce Meyer says.

I’ve talked before about Satan’s goal for those of us who are already saved. If he cannot win our souls for eternity, then while we are here he wishes to render us useless. He wants to take us out of the game. Essentially, he wants to kill us while we are still alive. How does he go about accomplishing that? He assaults our hearts. The Bible says to “guard your heart, for it is the source of life.” (Proverbs 4:23) Did you catch that? The source of life. The enemy wants to crush the very LIFE that God intends for us. Jesus said he came that “we might have life and have it more abundantly.” (John 10:10) We have lost the ability to experience abundant life when we have lost heart.

Some may ask, as I have, “Why should I keep trying to guard my heart when there is a constant barrage of difficult circumstances that I cannot control?” Some may lament, as Bryan did this week, “It feels like I am fighting a war with a cardboard box for a shield.” But, I am encouraged by Jesus’ words, “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.” (Matthew 5:8) We may feel like we are hanging on by a thread, but if we can see Satan’s schemes for what they are and if we can refute the lies we hear, we can keep our hearts pure. We can continue to believe the truth and to hope and to risk. And, then we can count on the glorious reward promised to us: We will see God. I think that is as much a promise for the present day as it is for our future in Heaven. If we can ward off the assault of the enemy, we can see God, even in the midst of the most challenging circumstances. And, He is beautiful.

So, call me Pollyanna, but I am going to recount the story of my week from a different perspective. I am really grateful that we have the money to pay the exterminator and that there is somebody out there crazy enough to catch rats for a living. The ER doctors and nurses were absolutely wonderful with Caroline and gave us everything we needed. Despite all of the complaints, we still have access to excellent medical care in this country. I may not like the governmental ideology of “redistribution of wealth”, but if God decides to help out the urgent care center, the hospital, the pest control company, and the water heater company in one week with our money, who am I to complain? He gave the money to us anyway. And, I am overwhelmed by thankfulness for our church family who responded immediately to my request for prayer while Caroline was sick. They have been tremendously encouraging, knowing that we are facing the anniversary of a tragic death and battling many fears.

Yes, my heart is under attack. But, I can see it for what it is. And, I know I have to fight with all that is in me. I heard Sarah Palin speak at the Women of Joy conference in October, and she said, “Overcomers keep a soft heart in a tough world.” This kind of attitude is not for the weak. But, I want to be an overcomer, not a victim. God is calling me personally to a life marked by a deeper thankfulness and a closer walk with Him. He is calling me to prayer. Not the kind I already know how to do, but the kind that is disciplined, fervent, and recorded for the purpose of watching for results. God is aware of the assault on my heart, and yet he is drawing me under His wing, asking me to let Him keep it pure so that I can see Him. How about you?

(We would all do well to remember a time when our hearts were not sin-free, but soft. I have included the following letters from Mary Claire’s classmates because if I don’t repeat them in their entirety, I cannot do them justice. I hope that reading them will bless your heart, maybe make you shed a tear like they did me, and make you wonder why we don’t talk to each other like this every day. Guard your heart! Blessings to you.)

Dear Mary Claire,

I did not know that you like animals. I am so, so, so, so, so sorry that your sister Audrey passed away. I have a baby cousin, too. You bring joy to us! I love the picture that you drew.

Your friend,
Kayla

Dear Mary Claire,

I did not know that you like cats. You are a nice friend. You do your best work. I like dogs and cats, too. Do you like rabbits? Do you want to come to my house? Do you like the beach? I do like the beach. I like the picture of the kitten.

Your friend,
Van

Dear Mary Claire,

I am sorry about your baby sister. She is so cute! I learned you like dogs and cats. Do you like dolphins, too? You are very helpful and a good friend. You are also compassionate, pretty, and joyful. I love art, too! Do you want me to make a self-portrait of you when I get home today? I like the picture of your dad and your sister.

Your friend,
Lindsey

Dear Mary Claire,

You like kittens. Why? You are helpful and sweet. We are Longhorn fans. They have got to do better! I like the firework picture!!!!!!! I like your hair!

Your friend,
Drexel

Dear Mary Claire,

You spread joy around the world! What flip were you learning in gymnastics? You are the best reading buddy in the whole world! Your drawing is the best! Did you like the Washington Monument?

Your buddy,
Alyssa

Dear Mary Claire,

I did not know that you had gymnastics lessons. What is it like there? I think that Audrey was very sweet. You are very funny. I cannot believe we both went to Washington, D.C.! My favorite picture was the fireworks behind the monument.

Your friend,
Sam

The Author and Perfecter

2010-10-28T11:23:00.000-05:00

Some of us are afraid to go anywhere without make-up. Come on, ladies, admit it. You don’t want anyone to see what you really look like under there. And, I get it. I’m not married to my make-up. I go places without it. In fact, I’m pretty sure the PE coach at the elementary school chuckles at me every morning when he sees me pull up in my minivan to drop off my girls at school while still wearing my bathrobe. But, I digress. The fact is I like to wear make-up. (People don’t smirk at me when I wear make-up.) Even if I get all soapy and fix my hair, I just don’t feel finished without putting on my make-up. It helps me put my best face forward, so to speak. Even though I know God made me the way He wanted to and that He doesn’t make mistakes, I don’t really like the way I look as much without make-up as I do with it. Maybe that’s vain, but it is true.

I have begun to recognize, though, that there is much more than make-up covering my true self. Rewind to a few weeks ago when I was afforded the opportunity to look at myself in the mirror…not without make-up, but without God. You heard me correctly. I saw what I look like when I am au natural…me, unaltered, in the flesh, striving on my own, floundering without God. And, I wasn’t pretty. I didn’t like what I saw under there. No one should have to see that! Let me elaborate…

My mom and I attended the Women of Joy conference in San Antonio. We were so excited to finally get a weekend away together (the first since the birth of my daughters nearly 9 years ago). We were even more pumped about what God is doing in our family. We set out on our adventure asking God to show us more about joy. Both of us have experienced an inordinate amount of pain, and we both wanted God to show us how to live here and now, anticipating the future, with joy. After a night to rest on the Riverwalk and hear the inspiring voice of Sarah Palin, we felt like we could take on the world for Jesus! My faith had never seemed so strong.

Fast forward less than 24 hours. While I was still in San Antonio on “retreat”, something painful occurred (let’s call it a set-back), the details of which are personal and not necessary to make my point. It is sufficient to say that Satan knew just where to punch me. I had thrown my whole heart into moving forward with my life trusting God, and he had let me down. He had allowed me to hurt one too many times. And, I was done with Him. (I told Him that myself, so you don’t have to gasp and worry that I’m being irreverent. He already knows how irreverent I was.) I raged and screamed prayers. At first, they were desperate pleas for help. But, they dissolved into angry, bitter, contemptuous, snide remarks. I told God I didn’t believe in Him (funny, I was still talking to Him, though…or, out loud to no one—CRAZY!). I cried all night long. I did not get one lick of sleep. I felt utterly desolate. I would not listen to a word of encouragement from my mom. In fact, I think I physically pushed her away and yelled at her. I could not worship on Sunday morning. I could not dream of spending one more minute listening to someone tell me their line of bologna about how God will come through for you. I just could not do it. I thought my life as I knew it was over, and I was not sure how I was going to change everything to match my new point of view that God did not exist. We skipped the end of the conference and I drove home to face my new life…and who knows what that meant! I was utterly lost. What a change from the freedom and power of the previous day!

Later that day, as I faced my “set-back”, I was physically wiped out. My kids sat on the bed with me and read books while I let an ice pack tend to my whopping headache. And, as I lay completely vulnerable to the world and its attacks, God began to tend to my wounded soul by His Spirit. I may have been done with Him, but He wasn’t done with me! Miracle of all miracles! You mean, I practically cursed him (ok, really cursed at Him), and He still wanted to pursue ME? Unbelievable. And, true. As the next several days wore on, God built my confidence up again. He showed me by the responses of the people around me that He was still at work and that the success or failure of everything does not depend upon me. It depends upon Him. I had never felt so free.

My point is a simple one: Even your faith, dear one, is given by God. Hebrews 12:2 says, “Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.” In other words, God created my faith. He started it! I didn’t dream it up in my own head and then construct it. God did! It was His idea in the first place. Not only that, but He is the one that sustains it. He perfects it. And, He is the one who will bring it to completion (Philippians 1:4-6).

God has given us the choice to believe or not to believe. But, God is sovereign, and He will have His way. Not as much depends on you as you might think. I’m not advocating getting lazy or being rebellious. We will respond to God with joyful obedience when with grateful hearts we recognize His great love for us. But, listen friend: When you mess up or you just cannot find the strength to believe God for one more second, He will continue what He began in you (whether you like it or not!). This provides tremendous comfort to me! How refreshing!

Corrie Ten Boom once said that she did not have a big faith in a small God, but rather a small faith in a big God. Amen. My little mustard seed of faith will be enough for even the grandest of tasks because my God is big! It is not about me. It is about what God began, what He wants to accomplish, and what He already promised He will complete. It was true for Jonah. He tried to run from God’s calling on his life, but God had His way, didn’t He? Our rebellion and our unbelief cannot stop God. And, His long-suffering, patient, loving presence will be there to nurse our faith to health when it is ailing.

If you detect even a hint of truth in what I have written, then God has probably already authored your faith. Is it ailing today? Are you having trouble believing? Tell Him. God knows what you look like without your make-up on. Let Him nurse your faith back to health. He doesn’t abandon the works of His hands.

“Those who know your name trust in you because you have not abandoned those who seek you, Lord” Psalm 9:10

Chosen in Weakness

2010-10-20T18:29:00.001-05:00

October is a great month for baseball fans in Texas. How about those Rangers? Star player Josh Hamilton hit two home runs just last night. He has hit more home runs against the Yankees than anyone else in post-season history. That is something to shout about! But, the best part of the story, in my opinion, is that Josh is shouting about Jesus’ power in his life. When the Rangers won their first playoff series in franchise history a couple of weeks ago, the team chose to celebrate non-traditionally. Usually, an MLB win of that magnitude dictates that the locker room be drenched in a champagne downpour. Not so for the Texas Rangers. They chose to honor their MVP Josh Hamilton, a recovered alcoholic and born-again Christian, with a ginger ale toast. It was a fitting and respectful tribute to a beloved team leader and a testimony to the whole world.

I wonder if Josh, shortly after leaving his old way of life, would have ever guessed that he would be honored, not just for his great athletic prowess, but for his bold witness for Jesus and for his decision to repent, submit his life to God, and walk in a new light? My guess is that he did not. I have a little experience watching men who have fallen from grace, and shame and guilt usually follows. They wonder, “How could anyone ever respect me again? How could I ever have anything to offer?” God’s truth, though, is topsy-turvy, isn’t it? Josh Hamilton may have made some poor choices, may have been going in the wrong direction, and may have been a slave to alcohol at one time. But, now he is the hero—in every way.

I’m going to let you in on a little secret. God intentionally chose Josh Hamilton. You know why? It brings GOD glory. It points to the restoration only God can effect. God got Josh out of the way (a heavy dose of humility, anyone?) so that God himself would be magnified (very publicly, I might add) in a generation that desperately needs Him. And, people listened. The Rangers’ non-traditional celebration made front-page sports news the very next day. 1 Corinthians 1:27-29 says, “God has chosen the weak things of the world to shame the strong, and God has chosen the foolish things of the world to shame the wise. God has chosen the despised and insignificant things—the things viewed as nothing—so that he might bring to nothing the things that are viewed as something so that no one can boast in his presence.” Weird, isn’t it? God actually chooses the misfits to show the world that it is God who saves—not our own human strength, discipline, or goodness.

Last weekend, my parents had a celebration of their own: a 40th wedding anniversary. We don’t see many of those these days, and I know why. It is hard to keep it together. Marriages face great challenge. Like Bryan and I, my parents’ marriage has survived infidelity. And, instead of putting that chapter of their life in a dark closet somewhere so they don’t have to look at it anymore, they chose to celebrate their anniversary by being the humble object lesson of their pastor’s sermon on forgiveness and restoration (find it on www.nhbc.net, October 17). As one family friend remarked, “That was more church in one Sunday than I have been a part of in 52 weeks!” And, it really was.

From beginning to end, Mom and Dad’s anniversary celebration was an illustration of 1 Cor. 1: 27-29. North Highlands Bible church is a cozy congregation led by a self-proclaimed stutterer (though I have never heard him miss a beat). According to the pastor’s story, he was told in seminary that he would never be able to “cut it”. But, after hearing sermon after sermon full of heart-engaging, life-changing truth, I am convinced that they were dead wrong! He isn’t focused on getting numbers. This man wants to pastor his flock and to develop healthy disciples. He is going to be faithful with the few God has given him, and he is doing it humbly and excellently. On Sunday, he told my parents’ story in light of God’s truth, and he interviewed them. They spoke boldly and honestly, but neither of them had prepared speeches or fancy rhetoric. They promised yet again to commit their lives to one another and to what God will do with their future. I am confident that Mom and Dad’s story breathed life and hope into people who are fellow strugglers, pilgrims on the way to Heaven. At the end of the service, we all clapped and sang Matt Myer’s song, “Love will hold us together, make us a shelter to weather the storm. And, I’ll be my brother’s keeper so the whole world will know that we’re not alone.” A lunch honoring my parents capped our time together. We ate nachos while we listened to some of their favorite music like, “Band of Gold” and “Little GTO.” It was a room full of ordinary people celebrating an extraordinary God. The whole thing literally rocked!

It is amazing how God is magnified when we are honest. Amazing how people respond to weakness and foolishness and insignificance. Amazing how people respond to God’s love and forgiveness and healing power. It touches a chord deep inside all of us. You mean, God can still use ME? You mean, he knows what I’ve done, where I’ve been, who I’ve been…and he still wants to use ME? You mean God can fix THIS mess? Yes.

Here is some great news: You don’t have to be a major league baseball player to bring hope to those who think God could not possibly fix their mess. All you have to do is tell your story to whomever will listen. You are the owner of your story. There is no victory in hiding from it, no matter how shameful. Your mistakes don’t define you, but your story does. How are you going to tell it? How is it going to end? To some extent, you decide. Life is the mysterious dance between God’s power and our free will. He is sovereign. God begins a good work in us, and he brings it to completion. But, we have a choice about how we will respond in each and every moment. Those of us who have been saved by grace can choose how we want to project our story to the world. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather tell it myself instead of having others tell it incorrectly! Bryan and I are the only ones living inside this marriage, and we are the only ones who know what is true. God speaks into our lives behind the closed doors of our home most of the time. And, privacy is alright, in and of itself. But, it is not always the greater good.

There are some who would say that if, after 20 years, my parents are still talking about their pain, that they are not “moving on”. Some would want them to “put it behind them” and for it to be “over” once and for all, especially those who are concerned that my father is going to get labeled or stuck in a place of shame and guilt. And, some would say it is foolish for me to be so honest about my marriage, warning that it further damages my husband’s reputation. I have even been advised by a Christian family member to take my blog off the internet. That same person advised us to move so that we can “start over”. I understand the heart of those who are concerned. But, my answer is a simple one. Yes, we can say “goodbye” to the chains that held these precious men in bondage. But, we cannot say “adios” to our stories! There is no starting over. How we wish it were possible! But, this is our story, and we’re sticking to it.

Sure, it isn’t the easy way, but nothing good in life comes from taking the easy road. Just before my parents’ anniversary, Bryan and I revisited our dilemma about whether or not to be forthcoming, to use our story boldly and openly in ministry to others. Bryan met a stranger who recognized his name only through my blog. It sent him into a tailspin. “What must that person think of me?” he wondered. He began to listen to all of Satan’s most convincing lies. “You’ll never be able to overcome this. You really are a bad person. Sarah will never truly forgive you. Everywhere you go, you will be exposed for the fraud that you are.” In tears, he begged me to stop my blog. I was grieved—for so many reasons. I quickly acquiesced, though. I don’t want to cause him pain! By the next morning, Bryan had changed his mind. He came to me and asked me not to stop doing what I am doing. I am overjoyed to report that, as a team, we are going to fight the good fight. The narrow road is the one that pays off. It is the one that says, “I will listen to Truth before I will listen to any other voice.” It boils down to whether or not we really believe what God says. Is Jesus’ forgiveness complete? And, is there more than this life?

Yes, it may make my shy Daddy uncomfortable to stand up and speak in front of his church, to let them know who he was before God changed him. And, my blog may cause Bryan to suffer some. But, I’m not afraid of that anymore. I know the truth. My dad and my husband are so much more than their mistakes. Even before Jesus got hold of my dad, he was a hard worker, a faithful provider, a good daddy, and a loving husband. My husband’s story, though different (he accepted Christ at age 7), proves that sin is not a respecter of eternal destination. But, even though he was running from God in some aspects, God’s hand never left him. Bryan still did a lot of good in those years. And, people need to know that. We must tell our stories. God’s Word says, “And who will harm you if you are passionate for doing what is good? But even if you should suffer for righteousness, you are blessed. Do not fear what they fear or be disturbed, but set apart the Messiah as Lord in your hearts, and always be ready to give a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you…For it is better to suffer for doing good, if that should be God’s will, than for doing evil.” 1 Peter 3:13-15, 17. God says that we will be blessed—not harmed--if we suffer as we faithfully, prayerfully, and passionately tell our stories for the good of others! Peter goes on to compare our earthly suffering to that of Christ, who, “after being put to death in the fleshly realm” was “made alive in the spiritual realm.”

I glean four major teachings from this passage:
1) God wants us to not only turn from evil, but be passionate about doing good. He wants sold-out followers who seek the things that matter to him.
2) If we suffer while we are doing the right thing, God himself will bless us. In other words, there will be ample compensation, so keep going!
3) He wants us to be prepared to tell others why we have hope in him. That will probably require telling our story, even if it brings us shame or embarrassment.
4) As we put to death our own flesh (all of its fears, its pride, and its desires), we will become alive in the spiritual realm. The more we submit to God’s plan for our lives—whether or not it was OUR original plan, the more our hearts will come alive. Here, and only here, will we find true satisfaction.

How will non-believers ever see that God really has the power to fix our messes if we do not open up our mouths and say so? God has shown us in the life of Paul and in the life of David that those who mess up the most can become the most outspoken and inspirational witnesses of God’s grace…the most effective evangelists and leaders. Ironic? In the world’s eyes. But, God is bringing to nothing the things that are viewed as something so that no one can boast in his presence.

Are you afraid your weakness or your foolishness have hurt your witness? Don’t be deceived. God has chosen you—yes, you—to lift his name high. If you have turned to him and if you are being restored by him, then he is proud of his work in you. He has chosen you to tell your story, even as you hammer out your faith in the workshop of the real world. The time for Christ’s return is drawing nigh. He wants to be exalted. God and God alone. Who will call out to the world in humility, “This is where I’ve been, but this is where I’m going because of Christ!”? Who will boldly say, “Come with me!”?

Josh Hamilton will. My mom and dad will. Bryan and I will, with God’s help. Give me a pen and paper. Give me a podium and a mike. Lemme at ‘em!

Prayer That Rescues

2010-10-04T13:59:00.000-05:00

“On him we have set our hope that he will continue to rescue us
as you help us by your prayers.” 2 Cor. 1:10-11

Rescue: v. To save somebody or something from a dangerous or harmful situation; to prevent something from being discarded, rejected, or put out of operation.

Most of us don’t live everyday life thinking we are in need of rescue. We tend to reserve that word for firefighters who knock down the doors of a burning building to save someone on the second floor or for daring helicopter operators who pull stranded motorists from vehicles caught in a raging flood. The word “rescue” conjures up images of life and death situations. But, I submit to you that we are, in fact, in need of rescue more often than we think. Whether we recognize it or not, our joy, our peace, our effectiveness for Christ, and our very lives hang in the balance.

As Christians, we are engaged in a monstrous spiritual battle. As hard as we may try to maintain the illusion that we live in a “basically good” world, everywhere we look there is evidence that we live under the curse. On Thursday, the national news reported that a troubled college student committed suicide when two classmates secretly videoed him having a homosexual encounter and then posted it on the internet. I am grieved to the core of my being as I consider the many layers of pain in this story. It illustrates the worst of the devastation of the fall. Those kids--all of them--needed rescue.

We need not look to the news to be reminded of the spiritual battle all around us. In our own social circles, marriages are caving in, people are battling depression, adults are trying to heal from their dysfunctional childhoods and not mess up their own children in the process. In our homes, we may be fighting against discontent, strife, or disappointment. We may be grieving. If we are honest with ourselves, we recognize that all of us, at one time or another, need rescue from something. In truth, our own resources fall far short of our need and the needs of those around us.

What will we do when our friends reach out to us in a time of desperation? What will we do when we have exhausted all of our strength and face an enormous challenge? What will we do when we need rescue? I hope we will learn to pray. I am perplexed as to why God has created prayer as a means to move his hand. After all, he is mighty and sovereign, the one who brought everything into existence with his very words. How could my words have the power to rescue someone from danger? I don’t know, but they do. James 5:16 says, “Make this your common practice: Confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you can live together whole and healed. The prayer of a person living right with God is something powerful to be reckoned with.” (The Message) What a thought! My prayers are a powerful force to be reckoned with. I like that.

I’d have trouble believing this Scripture, but I’ve seen it in action. When we first lost Audrey, one of my friends prayed specifically for sleep. I don’t know why. She just said she felt called to pray for sleep. And, truthfully, with the exception of that first night, I have slept peacefully every night since. I actually had more of a sleeping problem before my daughter died than after. Is that a coincidence? I don’t think so.

Another friend called and told me that she was praying for joy. She has continued to remind me at each of our meetings since (for three years now) that she is still praying for joy. I’m not always joyful, but I have had a lot of joy in the midst of some pretty terrible circumstances, and I think that is a miracle and a direct result of prayer.

And, ironically (but not accidentally), many people told us they were praying for our marriage following Audrey’s death. They all knew that the death of a child often ruined marriages. Pridefully, I thought we didn’t need that. I couldn’t see how our strong marriage and love for each other could possibly be threatened by Audrey’s death. But, what I didn’t know was that there were other issues lurking in the dark at the time. God was not surprised. He knew. And, he was already calling people to pray for our marriage. By the time the infidelity came out a year later, I believe we had been bathed in so much prayer, we could not be destroyed, even though, by the world’s standards, we should have been. We were literally rescued by prayer.

In her book, Get Out of That Pit, Beth Moore says, “We have a God-given invitation—if not responsibility—to join the process of someone’s divine deliverance from peril or pit.” Many of our friends and even strangers have responded in obedience to the call to pray, and we have been the beneficiaries. Because of these faithful people, when the pit beckoned us, we were not pulled in.

God gives us a great illustration of the direct correlation between prayer and rescue in Acts 12: “So Peter was kept in prison, but prayer was being made earnestly to God for him by the church. On the night before Herod was to bring him out for execution, Peter was sleeping between two soldiers, bound with two chains, while the sentries in front of the door guarded the prison. Suddenly an angel of the Lord appeared, and a light shone in the cell. Striking Peter on the side, he woke him up and said, “Quick, get up!” Then the chains fell off his wrists.”(Acts 12:5-7)

Studying Peter’s miraculous, narrow escape from execution lends insight into how we are to respond to the needs all around us. Prayer was being made “earnestly” for Peter. This implies intensity and persistence. In the Lord’s Prayer, Jesus teaches us to pray for “our” daily bread. He shows us to pray for our own needs and to intercede for others. The word “daily” implies that we cannot stop at one prayer! We must take our needs to God day after day until he answers! Like manna in the desert was good for one day, our prayers must be offered fresh to sustain us each day. The church (implying the body of believers, not just one person) prayed like this for Peter.

The prayers for Peter were timely. Peter was in grave danger. It was the night before Herod was to execute him. The church’s prayers literally rescued Peter from death! I also believe prayer can rescue people from being one of the living dead—Satan’s plan to render us impotent while we still exist, to stagnate us in our sin or our pain. We must be sensitive to God’s timing as we pray. Sometimes, we must drop to our knees immediately when we learn of a need. We never know why the Spirit is motivating us to pray. Time may be of the essence!

In Peter’s situation, the church prayed, but God did the rescuing! Don’t you just love that? You see, the church didn’t run down and try to break Peter out of jail. They didn’t petition Herod to let him go. They knew when they had reached the end of themselves and only God’s power was enough. When God himself intervened, Peter’s prison cell was flooded with light. Where there was night, hopelessness, and little time left before demise, the Lord brought light, hope, and life. When Peter’s chains fell off, it was a miracle. No human being could have caused that to occur. It was a supernatural act of a sovereign, almighty God, seemingly in direct response to the prayers of his people.

I love that Scripture teaches us that nearly 2000 years later, God still responds mightily to the earnest and timely prayers of his people. But, only He brings the light of life into our own dark places and still performs miracles when they are necessary. When we need rescue, we need none other than the one true God.

Do you need rescue today? Is there someone you know who does? Stand on the promises of Scripture, and participate in the divine miracle of deliverance through prayer. Pray earnestly, pray right away, and pray as often as you can! Then watch what the Almighty can do. I think you’ll be amazed.

And, my friends out there—you know who you are—be on the lookout for God’s rescue. I’m praying for it. I’m trusting Him for it. I’m counting on it!

Staying with the Herd

2010-09-14T14:10:00.002-05:00

We love to watch the DVD series “Earth” and “Life”. Have you seen those? If you haven’t, you should. They are an amazing testimony to our infinitely creative Maker. I had no idea some of these creatures even existed. And, the way God made them to survive their specific environments…well, it is simply awesome. Learning about the diversity and complexity of the universe (at least the part we know about) humbles me. It makes me look small and God look really big.

Though the millions of animal species are so very different, there is one thing they have in common: danger. Almost every animal has a predator. My kids and I have learned to squint and prepare for the worst when we see a baby animal who stumbles away from its mother. We know this spells disaster. Likely, this little guy is in for a terrible surprise. Most animals are made for their packs. They need to stay with their herds. This is how they survive. It isn’t just the baby animals, either. Going it alone just isn’t smart. So it is with the Christian life.

If we want to survive, we need to stick together. Like the rest of the animal kingdom, we humans have a predator. He is just waiting for someone to devour. When we separate ourselves from other Christians, suddenly we find ourselves in the crosshairs. Can Satan take away our salvation? No. But, mark my words, he can take away everything else unless God says “no”. Let’s put it this way: He will do his level best to destroy us. He can steal our relationships, our witness, our effectiveness for Christ, our motivation, our passion, our joy, our peace, and our hope. He can make our life on this earth a wasteland. What could bring him more pleasure? If he cannot get our souls, he takes aim at the rest of our earthly life. Nothing is off limits. If we want to protect ourselves, we need to stay in the herd.

What does “staying in the herd” actually look like? Hebrews 10:25 says, “Let us not give up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but let us encourage one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching.” This passage is typically used to advocate church membership and attendance. I’m not disagreeing with that. But, I think it means much, much more. This is especially true if going to church means getting up on Sunday morning, putting on our best clothes, putting on our best self, greeting one another with a “hello, how are you?” without giving an honest answer, and arguing with our family all the way home. I know I’m not the only one who has occasionally experienced this kind of “church”.

I think the writer of Hebrews knew a little about human nature, the fallen world, and God’s call to holiness. I think he knew what a challenge it would be to engage the enemy alone. I don’t believe he meant that walking into a church building and hearing a sermon would be enough. I think when he said, “don’t give up meeting together”, he implied our need for close relationship with other believers—through thick and thin. Look at the context. Read all of Hebrews 10. The writer points out that sacrifice is no longer the way to atone for sin since Jesus has become the living sacrifice to pay for it once and for all. But, while we still live in a sinful world, we need to remind each other to hold tight to the hope we confess (v. 23), we need encouragement to spur us on toward love and good deeds (v. 24), we need to stand side by side as we face persecution (v. 32-34), and we need to remember the way we first came to faith so that we can confidently persevere (v. 32-39).

This “herd mentality” is a concept I’m warming up to as I mature in my walk with Christ. I imagine I’m not alone. Group living is, quite honestly, exhausting. Just keeping up with the life of the family who lives under my roof is complicated. Why in the world would I want to invest myself in other people and their problems and open up myself, my family, and my internal life to public scrutiny? Because God says I need it. And, I am seeing the truth in that, especially as I press on to really put Christ in the center of what I do…especially as I aim to make my perspective an eternal one. The enemy HATES it. If I want to do anything for Christ that is of consequence, I need my Christian brothers and sisters.

Making the decision to join a church family is step one. No church is perfect. But, church can consistently feed you with Truth, and it can connect you with like-minded individuals and families who are on the same journey. Step two is developing deep and lasting friendships with a select few with whom you are totally honest about your life. In my opinion, this is where protection from the enemy is to be found. I’m not necessarily talking about an “accountability partner” who questions you constantly about whether or not you’ve had your quiet time (though, that is not an entirely bad idea). I’m talking about people who know all of your stuff and love you anyway. I’m talking about people you can watch football with, worship with, throw birthday parties with, and pray with. I’m talking about people you admit your mistakes to. People you allow to see you mess up—big time. People you can call when you don’t have it all together. People who won’t let you make a big decision you’ll later regret. People who won’t let you give up on your marriage and other commitments. People who don’t want to see you compromise and people who don’t want to see you hurt. People who will give you Scripture when you need encouragement and people who will pray earnestly when the last thing you want to hear is Scripture. People who know WHAT you believe and WHOM you believe. People who won’t let you leave the herd. People who genuinely care to see God finish the good work he began in you.

Hebrews 10:25 says that we need to meet with these kinds of friends “all the more as we see the Day approaching.” I believe that God is calling us to increasingly deeper relationships with other Christians because Satan knows his time is short (Revelation 12:12). There are certainly challenges that come with investing in a “herd”. It takes time, it can be painful. But, there is no other way to protect ourselves. We need encouragement so that we can persevere.

I am so grateful for the “herd” God has given Bryan and me. So much has happened in my herd in the last few weeks that I can’t even begin to list it here. It makes me tired. But, it also inspires me. The leaders of our herd are not spring chickens any more. We may be slow learners, but we are grabbing hold of God’s promise to protect us when we stick together. We are learning to fight for each other in prayer, encourage one another, laugh with one another, and practically help one another. I am witnessing victories—big ones and little ones—as we deepen our ability to be real with each other, especially amongst the men.

Men, I’m going to call you out, here. I think it is unnatural in some respects for you to engage the herd. After all, some animal species don’t tolerate more than one male. Hippos, for example. I think one of the “Life” DVD’s shows hippo males fighting for the rights to all of the other females. The one that loses out has to leave the vicinity. Sorry, dude, find some other hippo group to conquer and rule! Hear me: I’m not being trite or condescending. Bryan reminds me all the time, “Sarah, I’m not a woman.” And, I’ve gotta tell you, I’m relieved. What I’m saying is that with respect to our need for each other, God does not discriminate. I think men and women alike need the encouragement of friends. And, men, if you want to be the leaders I know you desire to be, you can’t do it alone. It is too hard. I’ll plead with you on behalf of the wives I know…Please reach out to each other! Please don’t let each other go! Please don’t forsake meeting together! Please fight for each other’s families! Please don’t let the enemy corner your friends!

Brother, sister: Have you decided that being part of the herd is just too vulnerable? Have you decided it is too much trouble? Have you forsaken the safety of the herd? If so, you are in the crosshairs of the enemy. Going it alone just isn’t smart. Find a friend or two who knows WHAT you believe and WHOM you believe, and dive into a deep, real, and lasting friendship. Meet together often. There is safety in numbers.

The Myth of the Fireproof Suit

2010-09-07T21:59:00.001-05:00

I have often wondered in the last few years what people do without Christ. The suffering I have endured has been intense, and I honestly have questioned how I would still be standing up each day without knowing—really knowing—that what God promises us in the Bible is true. Jesus has saved me from the depths of despair time and again. He continues to pick me up out of bed each day, give me purpose, and give me hope. But, the road I have walked down has been hellish. I don’t claim I have suffered more than anyone else. I just know it has been hard. So hard…even with Christ.

Every day, all over the world, terrible things happen to people. Sin and death wreak havoc. And, they are not respecters of people—Christians and non-Christians alike suffer. In fact, suffering is one of God’s lesser known promises. It is all over the New Testament. Check it out. It is sobering. “In this world you will have trouble…” John 16:33.

Sometimes suffering surprises Christians. We can get a false idea that believing God and trusting Him means we will be protected from suffering—at least the really bad stuff. I don’t know if I ever consciously believed that. But, I sat at Audrey’s bedside every night, sang Jesus Loves Me with her, and prayed for her safety just like every “good” Christian mom does. I wouldn’t have asserted that my prayers would have kept her from all harm, but I did think they might help a little. I have learned so much since then about what it means to trust God…and what it doesn’t mean. It doesn’t mean bad things won’t happen to me—even really bad things.

Maybe you are beyond that place, well-aware that trusting God doesn’t spare you from suffering. But, there is another false belief many of us unknowingly hold that I think can be just as problematic. We believe that when we suffer, we will somehow be spared the pain of the process—the grief, the fear, the anger, the uncertainty, the sadness, and the time it takes to deal with it all. I don’t know exactly how that belief has crept into our doctrine, but I think it can cause a lot of unnecessary guilt.

A dear friend of mine who is a strong believer just found out she is pregnant. The first two weeks were terrible for her. There was a lot of confusion at her doctor’s office concerning the health of the pregnancy—and actually about its mere existence. It was stressful enough to cause the best of us to go crazy. She experienced severe anxiety during the uncertainty. After her hormone levels were proved inconclusive, she spent the better part of a week and a weekend wondering. On Monday, after an ultrasound, she was told there was no baby. She grieved. Then, four days later, on Friday, she was told that there was, in fact, a baby—and it looked perfectly healthy. She celebrated and praised God for a miracle. On Saturday, once the worst had apparently passed, she was still crying. Her husband was baffled. She also felt confused by her fear and her sadness, especially after she was given good news.

My friend spent two straight weeks on her knees, faithfully calling on God to give her peace. And, she felt it. But, she also experienced every other emotion known to man. And, I think she would admit to feeling guilty about that. I think she would admit that she thought—even if just for a minute—that if she just prayed harder or trusted more that she would not feel the negative emotions.

I’ve been there. Not in the same circumstances. But, I’ve been there. Here is some truth, Christian sister: Faith—even a deep, dynamic, personal, relationship with Christ—does not spare us from all of the natural, human consequences of suffering. Expecting otherwise is like expecting to walk through fire and not get burned. Our faith is not like a fireproof suit! We cannot tumble off of a motorcycle, slide through flames, and come out unscathed on the other side. That only happens in the stunt show at Disney World.

Our faith helps us in many ways, but it does not shield us from all of the pain in life. One woman who lost a child describes it this way, “Our faith keeps us from being swallowed up by despair. But I don’t think it makes our loss hurt any less.” (from God is Good, Alcorn). Randy Alcorn goes on to explain that the family’s faith, “kept their pain from incapacitating them…God stood with them in their pain, but God did not remove their pain.”

While that may sound like bad news, I really mean it to be encouraging. We can quit feeling guilty when we cannot experience our own suffering without flinching. Speaking of his wife’s battle with cancer, C.S. Lewis once said, “We are not necessarily doubting that God will do the best for us; we are wondering how painful the best will turn out to be.”

When we lean into suffering instead of trying to avoid it or be immune to it, I think there are real spiritual treasures to be found. It is in the process of working out our faith, particularly in suffering, that we find out who God really is and are transformed into the likeness of Christ.

Many of us have Romans 8:28 memorized (“We know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him and have been called according to his purpose.”). But, do you know what Romans 8:29 says? It says that “those God foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the likeness of his son.” In other words, God’s purpose for my suffering is Christlikeness. It means that God defines “good” in terms of what makes me more like Jesus.

This is freeing for me. God is interested in using each part of my life—including my sufferings—to make me more like Jesus. He knows changing me isn’t going to be pretty. He knows that I will go through the fire, and I will get burned. But, he is there, refining me, meeting me at each turn, reaching into my fear, my doubt, my sadness, and my anger. And, he is long-suffering. He is not going to give up on me, even if it takes a lifetime. He is there to make my suffering count for something. He will be there cheering me on when, broken and bloody from this life, I cross the finish line.

Are you hurting today? Feeling guilty because your faith isn’t “strong enough” to keep you from doubting, feeling loss, being disappointed, or getting angry? Cut yourself some slack. You aren’t wearing a fireproof suit. Lean into your suffering. Feel it all. Take each pain to God. He is more than able to make what he wills of it. And, he promises it will work out for your good in the end.

Zooming Out

2010-08-30T21:51:00.001-05:00

I’m an iPhone convert. I clearly remember the days when I used to think cell phones were unnecessary and even annoying. (I’m from the generation of teens who carried two things in a purse: lipstick and a quarter for a pay phone.) When Bryan came home with my iPhone, I said, “This is way more phone than I need! What am I going to do with it? I don’t even know how to use it.” It took about 24 hours for it to become my favorite piece of technology ever invented. I may have absolutely no sense of direction, but I’ll never be lost again thanks to my handy-dandy iPhone. Plug in a doctor’s office, friend’s address, or shopping mall, and “presto”—have wheels, will travel.

I love the map feature. I can zoom in or out, depending on what I need to see. Whether it is my little neighborhood or the great state of Texas I want to navigate, just a touch of a finger provides an instant change in perspective. If only navigating life was that easy. So often, I get honed in on my tiny corner of the world, and all I can see is that flashing blue dot. When I stare at that blue dot too long, the rest of the universe becomes fuzzy. How often God reminds me to “zoom out” and look at the big picture!

My daughter Mary Claire got a special present for her sixth birthday: a ruffled pink tooth pillow hand-sewn by her aunt. She has carefully placed it on her bed each day since in anticipation of losing her first tooth. Her seventh birthday came and went last month, and still she hasn’t lost a tooth. When we were at the dentist on Friday, the hygienist noticed that Mary Claire has a wiggly tooth. As she sat in the chair grinning from ear to ear looking like she had won the lottery, my daughter exclaimed, “I can’t wait to tell Stephanie and Austin about my loose tooth! I’ve been waiting and waiting all these years!”

Ah, yes, all these seven years. Such a long time to her. Such a short time to the rest of us. You see, she is “zoomed in”. To a seven-year-old, a loose tooth is a big deal, and the first one takes a long time coming!

I’m really not much different than my baby. My grown-up hopes and dreams may not be the same, but I am equally impatient when it comes to what is important to me. I have to work hard to think outside my own self-prescribed time table, much less outside my lifetime into future generations and even into eternity. You see, time is a much different thing to God. That’s because he is “zoomed out”. He can see the big picture for us much like we can see it for our children.

Beginning to wrap my mind around God’s time table instead of my own has become imperative for my personal healing. Often I cannot cope when I become obsessed with my present circumstances. Choosing to “zoom out” when I am tempted to hone in on my own pain affords me the hope that God can make something good of it in spite of me…in the long run. It helps me make decisions that hurt in the short run but will leave a legacy of love and grace for my descendants. It may sound crazy, but I am really starting to think about my great, great grandchildren!

On an episode of Glenn Beck last week, historian David Barton spoke about the Great Awakening (mid 1700’s). He said that revivals always span decades and therefore generations. He told of heroes of the American Revolution like Patrick Henry and John Adams who were once children at the feet of pastors who were great orators during the first part of the Great Awakening. Their values and passions were formed as the generation before them turned back to God. Barton gave reasons why he believes our country is once again in the midst of a revival. Our church has been praying for it. I know others have been, too. And, we are seeing signs of it, even in the midst of a dark time in the world.

As I listened, I couldn’t help but wonder: Who is sitting at my feet listening to me as I turn to God in the midst of suffering? What child is developing values and passions that God may one day use for great things? How will the decisions I make today (as hard as they are for me to make) affect future generations? What would happen if I gave in to my temptation to despair?

We often underestimate our influence. And, we often are very short-sighted. God is not in a hurry, but he never wastes time. Think about that. It means that the things we do now matter. We will probably not ever know how much they matter in this lifetime. But, because God is sovereign and he can see things I cannot, I’m going to trust him—even in suffering. I deeply desire to have a big-picture perspective. I’m asking God to help me “zoom out” more often.

Is that something you need to do, too?

I will sing of the Lord’s great love forever; with my mouth I will make your faithfulness known THROUGH ALL GENERATIONS. Psalm 89:1

Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the PROPER TIME we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. Galatians 6:9

(Read the context here, but the psalmist talks about affliction in light of eternity, and concludes…) This will be written for a LATER GENERATION, and a NEWLY CREATED PEOPLE will praise the Lord. Psalm 102:18

Cheers and Tears

2010-08-24T13:50:00.006-05:00

A sacred event is taking place in our community today. Little minds and bodies are filing back into classrooms, toting backpacks twice their size, feeling excitement and jitters, making first impressions and new friends. There is just something wholesome about going back to school. It seems to bring out the best in everyone. Parents, kids, and teachers alike put their best foot forward. There is anticipation in the air. Hope is palpable. Something good is going to take place. I love new beginnings. But, in my world, the good always comes with the bad (and sometimes the ugly). Everything in life has two sides…

The first day of school could not have come too soon. My house had been inching toward anarchy as the summer waned. As much as I wanted to relish the last few lazy, hazy days of summer and cherish the reason I am a stay-at-home mom, I could not get excited about another minute without order! The kids became increasingly energetic, and I became increasingly irritable. I need my routine. Summer is fun for a while, but all good things must come to an end. Hasn’t anybody ever read The Berenstain Bears and Too Much Vacation?!

Yesterday my girls attended their first gymnastics class. It was a nice kick-off to our fall schedule. They absolutely loved it. I had a blast watching them and remembering my own days as a gymnast. I was transported to 1984. I recalled the smell of the sweaty warehouse in August, cooled only by the humming of a few industrial-sized fans. I remembered warming up on the balance beam to the music of Huey Lewis and the News. It was a carefree time. Caroline and Mary Claire’s experience was no exception. They bounded out of the gym chattering about what next week’s lesson has in store.

If only the jumping around had ended in the gym, perhaps we would have been spared the near-ER-worthy injury that occurred when Mary Claire decided to play monkey bars in our house. The audible thump from upstairs clued me in, followed by the scream and the blood dripping from her ear. Good times. It was a fun afternoon…until it wasn’t fun anymore.

Things often do not go as planned. We had lunches packed and clothes washed and ironed. Backpacks were hung by the chimney with care. But, I wouldn’t have believed you if you told me that I would be gingerly rinsing dried blood out of my child’s ear and trying to fix her hair without touching her head on the morning of the first day of school. That threw a wrench in things for sure.

By the grace of God, we all managed to maintain a positive attitude this morning, but there was a dichotomy present that I have become quite familiar with in recent years. From the physical to the emotional, good and bad coexisted in an uncomfortable harmony. Like a dissonant chord. It’s musical, but something is out of place. It needs to be resolved.

This morning was supposed to be Audrey’s first day of kindergarten. As Bryan took pictures of the girls on the front porch, I couldn’t help but fill in that third spot with another blond head dressed in her best clothes toting a backpack too big for her little body, feeling excitement and jitters, ready to make first impressions and new friends.

At school, kindergarten parents parted ways with their tiny students and marched into the library for the annual “Cheers and Tears Breakfast”. To me, this says it all. The dichotomy of life. The good with the bad (and the ugly). Cheers and tears. Holding hands, Bryan and I also marched along…right past the library, looking in and wondering. Cheering and shedding tears of our own.

As I left, I couldn’t help but think that experiences like these, ones where that dissonant chord plays in my life’s song, are reminders that I long for my Heavenly home. Not only a home where Audrey gets to attend her first day of kindergarten, but also a home where every aspect of life is no longer fraught with that bittersweet dissonance. A wholesome place where everyone puts their best foot forward. A home where anticipation is in the air and hope is palpable. A place where something good is sure to happen. A home where good exists without the bad (and the ugly) and, finally, it all is resolved.

Forgiveness is a Four-Letter Word (Part 2)

2010-08-13T18:22:00.001-05:00

So, let’s get down to brass tax. I’ve got questions. And, if I don’t get them answered, I’m going to keep thinking of forgiveness as a four-letter word! What does the Bible specifically say that will soothe that nagging in my soul? And, when the Bible is not specific, what common sense is consistent with Scripture?

It’s a work in progress, but here is my make-shift “question and answer session”. I hope it will reassure you and also challenge you as it does me.

Q) How do I forgive when I have been hurt so greatly?

A) I recognize that I, too, need forgiveness.

As I have prayed through how to respond to each situation I have faced, what has surprised me most is that I have been made keenly aware of my own sin. I knew I was sinful, but I had no idea I was THAT sinful! It has really shocked me. Who did I think I was anyway? How embarrassing. But, how refreshing! I am free now to let God be God.

I am relieved that God has so tenderly put me in my place. I expect this process to continue, and believe it or not, it is helping me to forgive. It is slowly healing my soul, my marriage, and my world. When my attitude is one of humility, my choices are more loving and forgiving. When I compare myself to other human beings, I have a much harder time responding in kind, self-sacrificing ways.

In order to forgive, we must be willing to look at the darkness in our own hearts. We must confront the prideful thought, “I would never ___________.” When we compare our thoughts, actions, and motivations to those of a holy God, we see our own depravity. Our perspective is skewed if, instead, we compare ourselves to others. We begin to weigh and measure sin by its earthly consequences instead of by the pain it causes a perfect and holy God.

Q) Why do I have to forgive others? What about justice?

A) I am called to forgive because God has first forgiven me. God promises justice in the end, but for now, he wants me to imitate his mercy.

Jesus teaches Peter about forgiveness in the parable of the unmerciful servant (Matthew 18:21-35). A servant owes the king money and begs him not to sell his family and all he owns to pay the debt. The servant promises to repay the debt and asks for patience. The king takes pity on him and cancels the debt. But, as soon as the servant leaves the king’s presence, he finds a fellow servant who owes him money. When the fellow servant begs for mercy, he throws him in jail. This angers the king, who scolds the servant for not passing on the mercy he has been shown. The king then turns the servant over to jailers to be tortured until he can repay the debt. Jesus concludes, “This is how my heavenly Father will treat each of you unless you forgive your brother from your heart.” (v. 35)

Jesus’ teaching is this: Forgive because you have been forgiven. When we read the simple parable, we can clearly see that begging for mercy, being forgiven, and then turning right around and punishing someone else for the same thing is absurd. However, when we apply it to our own lives, things get fuzzy. Life is more complicated than that, we rationalize. We somehow justify our own unforgiveness by measuring our sin against the sin of others. If we are honest, when we put ourselves in the story, we imagine that our debt to the king is smaller than the other servant’s debt to us. And, therefore we justify holding others’ feet to the fire. But unlike us, the king in the story is not focused on the debt at all. He is concerned with the heart. With God, it is all about the heart.

Jesus’ teaching is also this: If it is fairness you want, then you can spend eternity apart from God trying to pay back what you owe. Ouch! You see, the truth is we would never be able to repay our debt. That is why Jesus came. We think we want justice. But, if we got it, we would be truly sorry. Jerry Sittser, in his book A Grace Disguised, writes, “Forgiving people decide that they would rather live in a merciful universe than in a fair one, for their sake as much as for anyone else’s. Life is mean enough as it is. They choose not to make it any meaner.”(p.141)

Q) How will I ever be strong enough to do what God is asking of me?

A) My ability to forgive will be born of my intimacy with God.

God calls us to a very high standard. But, he doesn’t ask us to live the Christian life and develop Christ-like character by our own strength. He is the power source. 2 Peter 1:3 says that he has given us everything we need for life and godliness. When we are close to him, we hear his voice (John 10:27, Isaiah 30:21). When we are close to him, we are empowered to do things we cannot otherwise do. He promises that his strength is made perfect in weakness (2 Corinthians 12:9).

If I want to forgive the way God forgives, to obey him, to imitate Christ, then I must stay on a short leash. In order to do the kinds of things I have been called to do in my life, I have no choice but to cling to God! I absolutely cannot try to do ANYTHING apart from him (John 15:5). I must pray. I must study. I must listen. All the time. Every other method has failed. There is no such thing as being good apart from Christ.

Q) What does forgiveness look like in the “real world”?

A) Forgiveness is not a one-size-fits-all proposition.

As far as I can tell, there really isn’t a blueprint. I think it looks different depending on who and what is involved. It is personal. It is sacred. It always involves the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. It requires seeking the heart of God, waiting on his timing, and then obeying. Sometimes it feels great, and sometimes it doesn’t. There is no formula.

Q) What if I don’t feel better after I forgive?

A) Forgiveness is a choice. The way we feel about it does not negate the choice we make.

The act of forgiveness can take many forms. It can be blessing someone with kind words. It can also be restraining oneself from speaking if it would remind someone of their mistake. It can mean loving sacrificially with no expectation of return. It can be keeping your distance to avoid causing someone further pain.

Put simply, forgiveness is choosing not to treat others according to the harm they caused. Psalm 103:10 says God “has not dealt with us as our sins deserve or repaid us according to our offenses.” The phrase “dealt with us” and the word “repaid” are action-oriented. They refer to God’s response to our sin, not to how he feels about it.

One does not have to “feel” forgiving to offer forgiveness. Feeling angry or hurt does not negate forgiveness. Negative feelings are natural consequences of sin. And, the consequences of sin long outlast the sin itself. Are we to be immune from the consequences of sin simply because we are Christians? No. We cannot be immune. Even God is not. In fact, he is angry at sin! Psalm 90:11 says, “Who knows the power of your anger? For your wrath is as great as the fear that is due you.”

The Bible says that when Jesus suffered he did not sin in response. When he was reviled, he did not revile back. He entrusted himself instead to the One who judges justly. (1 Peter 2:22-23) The emphasis in the passage is on Jesus’ restraint. But, it doesn’t state that the sins committed against him didn’t hurt his feelings or make him mad! Like Jesus did, we can choose to entrust our feelings to a God who is just and who is as mad as we are. But, we don’t have to beat ourselves up for having to work through the process. God knows how he made us.

Q) What if I can’t forget what someone has done to me?

A) Forgiveness does not mean we have to forget the offense.

About a year after Bryan’s infidelity came out, I was talking candidly with close friends about how it still frequently affected our lives. Two of them strongly urged me to try to “forget”. You’ve heard the phrase: “Forgive and forget.” What does that mean, anyway? I knew they meant well, but that did not make practical sense to me. I felt very lonely trying to deal with my pain since even my best friends didn’t seem to understand that I couldn’t really forget. Maybe others could more easily “forget”, but I had to try to rebuild a marriage with the guy.

I read the passage in Exodus when God told the Israelites to remember their bondage in slavery so that they would recall how he had freed them. I had a sense that this awful time in our marriage would hold that kind of significance. It would serve as a reminder of a place we didn’t want to revisit and also a place from which God had rescued us. But, I still needed more Biblical knowledge about this forgiving and forgetting thing.

Then, one day, I found the most amazing encouragement. In his book, If God Is Good—Faith in the Midst of Suffering and Evil, Randy Alcorn discusses two Biblical passages where it is said that God will not “remember” past sin (Isaiah 65:16-17 and Jeremiah 31:34). Alcorn explains, “Remember is a covenant word that includes acting upon what comes to mind. To not remember doesn’t mean to forget. It means that though God could recall our past sins, he will never hold them against us because he sees that we are covered by Christ’s blood and made righteous in him. God doesn’t have a mental lapse; he chooses not to bring up our sins.” (p.297-8)

This makes so much sense to me. To not “remember” doesn’t mean to forget. It means that though I can and will recall past sin, I will choose (with God’s help) not to hold it against people. This is still a tall order, but at least it is possible!

Q) If I am still hurting and I have to choose to forgive all over again, does that mean I have not truly forgiven in the first place? How many times must I face this dilemma?

A) Forgiveness is not a once-and-for-all proposition.

Each time I recall a past sin (because it is not possible, short of amnesia, for me to forget), I have a choice whether or not to forgive. Each time my present reality bumps up against the pain of my past, I have to choose again to forgive. Jerry Sittser says, “In one sense, forgiveness is a lifelong process, for victims of catastrophic wrong may spend a lifetime discovering the many dimensions of their loss.” (A Grace Disguised, p. 144)

The Bible is clear that we are called to forgive as many times as is necessary. “Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, ‘Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother when he sins against me? Up to seven times?’ Jesus answered, ‘I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.” (Matthew 18:21-22)

I wonder, is Peter saying, “How many times do I have to forgive the same person for hurting me over and over again?” Or, is he asking, “How many times do I have to keep forgiving the same person for what he did to me in the past?” There is a difference. But, I think if it were relevant, the Bible would have discriminated between the two. Either way, Jesus makes his point. Peter, you must forgive a whole lot more than you want to forgive.

I am confronted with this reality daily. It’s not that people keep hurting me as much as it is that I continue to discover the many dimensions of my loss. Maybe as healing occurs, I won’t be called to forgive so often. But, for now, if I don’t stay super-close to God, I can foul things up really quickly. In the moment, sometimes I forgive, and sometimes I don’t. I have made the over-arching choice to forgive. I have taken my stand. But, in the little things, I don’t always do it right. It’s impossible on my own. I just hope that over time, as I draw nearer to my Savior, my record will improve. But, I think the Bible teaches me that I will never be able to say that I am done forgiving.

Q) If my relationship with someone is permanently damaged or even broken, does that mean I have not forgiven him? Must I maintain a relationship at all costs?

A) Forgiveness and reconciliation are not the same thing.

Hear me when I say this: Forgiveness does not necessarily require putting ourselves in situations where we will continue to get hurt. There is always a healthy way to show mercy, to refrain from treating others according to their sin. Forgiveness does not demand that we allow others to abuse us. We must be sure never to confuse forgiveness with reconciliation.

Forgiveness is about our own hearts. It can be offered regardless of what the “offender” chooses to do. It is not dependent upon the condition of the “offender’s” heart. Forgiveness can be a one-way street.

Reconciliation, however, is always a two-way street. The degree to which both parties are willing to humble themselves before God and submit themselves to his Spirit is the degree to which healing can take place in a relationship injured or broken by sin. Sometimes reconciliation can never be complete this side of Heaven. Sometimes reconciliation is not possible this side of Heaven.

I would contend that reconciliation is at the heart of the situation I mentioned in Part 1 where the people who committed genocide are worshipping alongside family members of those they killed. Certainly, forgiveness had to be offered first, or no reconciliation would have taken place. That is a miracle in and of itself. But, in this case, the offenders have also turned their hearts toward Christ. And, that made reconciliation possible.

Reconciliation is beautiful. And, it is astounding. We should note why it is astounding, though. It simply cannot be done without Christ. He is the power that makes it possible. And, as we forgive, I think we must pray for reconciliation that knocks the socks off of people! All we can control, though, with God’s help, is ourselves. We need not feel condemnation if our “story” doesn’t end the way we wanted it to end. We need only take this advice, “If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.” (Romans 12:18)

Preparing to write on this topic led me to make a difficult choice about two weeks ago. In Part 1, I mentioned that I am struggling to forgive a friend who was involved with my husband in adultery. Whew, I wish there was a nicer way to say that… Anyway, I prayed intensely, and God flat out told me to take initiative and write her. I didn’t really want to do it. But, he made it clear by Scripture and the Holy Spirit that it was right. So, I just obeyed. I am NOT TRYING TO BE GOOD, just in case anyone is curious. It was just time, and God said so. I meant everything I put in the letter, but it was painful to write. I stuck it in the mail, and then I wanted to throw up. But, there was no turning back.

I planned on posting Part 2 of my forgiveness blog today, and I tell you, God is not done showing off in my life. His timing is impeccable. In the mail TODAY was a letter of response from my friend. It was a sincere apology. And, if not fully satisfying, it brought me peace. More peace than I had before. I don’t feel like throwing a party, but it didn’t make me cry or make me want to scream. I wasn’t sure what to expect from myself. I still have questions to ask her, but I am not sure that finding out the “why’s” will help. A wise person once told me that a better question to ask is, “What next?” So, I suppose we will be negotiating what is next with God’s direction.

No matter what, I am humbled by the way God lovingly led me into this place of obedience. He is already blessing what he began. And, I know that he will be faithful to complete it.

I guess I’ll be writing on the personal benefits of forgiveness before you know it. If forgiveness is a four-letter word, that word is love—love straight from the Father’s heart to ours.

Forgiveness is a Four-Letter Word (Part 1)

2010-08-10T00:37:00.004-05:00

Ever gone on a “bear hunt” with your kids? On your way to find the bear, whether you are facing the tall grass or the squishy mud, the poem repeats, “You can’t go over it, you can’t go around it. You have to go through it.” This perfectly describes my journey with forgiveness. Like it or not, I’m going through it. And, I’ve just about decided that forgiveness is a four-letter word!

I have been hearing that still small voice for months now telling me to study forgiveness and write about it. There was one tiny problem with that. I didn’t wanna.

I’ve got some people to forgive. I’ve got some pretty impossible things to forgive. In each situation, I think I’ve done the right thing to the best of my ability. But, I’m still angry, and I’m still hurt. And, if it was ok, I’d probably punch a few people in the face. I’m just being honest. And, God and I…well, we’ve gone round and round about what it means to really forgive someone who does you harm, whether it is accidental or intentional.

What does forgiveness look like? How do I know when I have truly forgiven someone? What does God ask of me? And, if I can figure that out, does it count if I do what God asks even if I don’t want to do it?

Let’s just use my life as a case study, shall we? Bear with me. The information is oversimplified, personal, and raw, but I think it is useful. I’m banking on the fact that there are other people out there who are wrestling with the same questions, if not the same sordid circumstances. Otherwise, I’d rather keep it to myself…

My friend was watching my daughter for me when she was killed by the driver of a carpet-cleaning van in the driveway of her home. I trusted my friend with my most important possession. And, she was momentarily careless. I know she wasn’t neglectful. There, but for the grace of God, go any one of us moms. But, the truth is that, in that moment, she was prioritizing something besides Audrey. These are her words, not mine. And, I appreciate her candor and her remorse. My husband and I gave her our forgiveness the day the accident happened and have given it many times since. We have had her and her family in our home since the tragedy. Still, seeing her is painful for me for so many reasons. We no longer spend time together or share our personal lives. Does this mean I have not forgiven her?

My husband confessed his bondage to sexual sin just less than one year after Audrey’s death. He lied to me for the better part of a decade. He struggled with internet pornography and hid it from me perfectly. It led to several encounters with women I did not know…and one with someone I did know and trust. It should have utterly destroyed us, but by God’s grace, it did not.

I am truly grateful God provided the opportunity for me to make the choice to stay. Many women have faced different circumstances that forced their hand. I have been afforded the privilege of fighting for my marriage because of my husband’s contrition. And, I love him. And, he loves me. And, he is a really good man. But, having made that choice initially, I am now facing the process of reconciliation and rebuilding trust. Fair or not, a large part of the responsibility for the success of my marriage rests on my ability to truly forgive. That fact has angered me like no other. I thrash against it. I hate it. But, it is true.

It has been a bumpy ride. Even when Bryan’s behavior and temperament are steady, I have to fight to keep my thought-life pure. I fight traumatic images, and I fight fear. I fight pride. I am tempted never to trust him again. The slightest thing can send me over the edge. I cannot forget what he has done to me, but I am trying. Does that mean I have not forgiven him?

Then, there’s the issue of the friend who betrayed me with my husband. That one is a real kicker. It has been two years, and she has not said one word to me. I guess that is better than some scenarios that could have played out. But, I am troubled that I do not know the condition of her heart. I don’t know if she is sorry for what she has done or if she would do it again if she had it to do all over. And to make it worse, the two of us have a relational tie that will never allow us to be permanently separated. No, this person will be in my face for life in one way or another. No way around it. Gotta go through it.

What the heck am I supposed to do with this situation? How have I forgiven her so far? I have not come to her house to burn it down. Before anyone gets worried that I’ve seriously thought about doing this, let me ask you what you would want to do? Let’s just say I’ve restrained myself. And, I think that is a form of forgiveness—it’s mercy, really. Not paying someone back according to their sin against you. My Christian counselor says that if the wages of sin is death, then anything I do short of killing people is mercy. (Can you see why I like this guy?)

With this situation, though, I will have to do much more than restrain myself. Someday this former “friend” and I will have to stand in the same room again. For the sake of other people in my life, I hope it is sooner rather than later. The consequences of this insane, Satan-inspired sin are constantly hurting people I love. So, by God’s grace, I am willing to do what many would find impossible. But, I don’t want to go have coffee with her and shoot the breeze…probably ever. Does that mean I have not forgiven her?

In the many months following these tragedies, I have wrestled with God. Have I really forgiven someone if I still want to rip out their eyeballs? Well, maybe not. But, what if I cannot trust them again? Have I really forgiven someone if I am still hurting because of what they did or did not do? What does it really mean to forgive?

I’ve heard amazing stories of people in war-torn countries who have suffered genocide. And, through Christ, they have found a way to reconcile with people who murdered their family members and friends. They even attend church together and worship side by side. Forgiveness like that astounds me. It inspires me. And, yet I’m befuddled. It seems impossible.

So what’s the difference between those who hold a grudge forever, those who mostly forgive (I think I’m somewhere in here), and those who worship side by side with the very people who have killed their parents, spouses, and children? What is forgiveness anyway?

Chew on that for a few days. If you are willing, think about what God has asked YOU to forgive and what you know about forgiveness. Then, in part two, I’ll explore what the Bible says about this “four-letter word” and (whether you like it or not!) I’ll begin to unpack my hard-earned pearls of wisdom…

Blessings!