When We Think We Have Blown It Too Big

When I used to blow it, I found myself struggling with feelings of  abandonment, especially at the times I believed I was unworthy of God's mercy and grace. You know those times when I believed I had blown it so big that God was ready to wash His hands of me. Those times of besetting sins that I had repeatedly vowed to never commit again, but did and feared God was so angry He could easily turn His back on me. At those times I thought I had to overcome sin and trust God perfectly to be close to Him. But, the truth was that I wasn't strong enough to withstand overwhelming urges I experienced and I didn't know how to grow my faith enough that I could perfectly trust Him. 

Because I was tired of struggling and living in fear, I began to read Biblical stories that revealed how God related to people and soon realized I had developed faulty theology and misunderstood what God desires for His people. Looking back, I think Satan had me right where he wanted me--struggling with sin and believing God condemned me because of sin, doubt, mistrust, and abiding shame. As I read story after story, I began to understand the trials I faced, struggles I had with besetting sin, and doubts I had about God's presence were the very things God uses to grow faith and develop intimacy with Him. I soon realized most of my life I had been trying to earn God's love. But the harder I tried, the more I failed and the more alone I felt. I began to understand that it is in my struggle that God makes Himself the most available to me. All I had to do was cry out to Him and He would walk through it with me.

From the beginning God has continuously reached out to people. He communed freely with Adam and Eve and met their every need. The Enemy came and used words carefully crafted to stir up doubts about God's goodness. He also stirred up dissatisfaction with the perfect life they lived and the perfect fellowship they enjoyed with God and each other. In that state they chose to eat forbidden fruit, allowing darkness to pervade the light in which they lived. After they ate, God's goodness was overshadowed by Satan's evil, their innocence was drowned out by burning hot shame, and their relationship with their God was shattered by broken trust. Adam and Eve blew it big and yet, God pursued them and set out to heal the chasm their sin had caused. He didn't desert them in their rebellion or leave them stuck in shame. He met them in the ugliness of it all, slaying animals to provide covering for shame, securing their relationship with the promise of a Savior. Because of their story I can trust God to be present even when I blow it big.

Then there was Abraham and Sarah's story. They were an infertile couple living in the midst of a culture that worshipped fertility gods. Theirs was an ugly harsh religion as young virgins were offered to temple priests to win the affection of stone-cold gods. It was also a religion in which babies were sacrificed to celebrate the favor they believed stone gods had shown when they conceived. It was against the backdrop of that ugliness God initiated a relationship with Abraham and Sarah, calling them to a new land and promising them an heir of their own. They believed God and left for a new land. But, years went by and no heir came. There were times of doubt in which Abraham lied in big ways to protect himself, placing Sarah at risk and God intervened, protecting her. Then Sarah doubted and tried to help God out by giving Abraham her handmaiden to bear a son for them. Even in her doubt and their sinful choices, God didn’t turn away. Instead, He came to them and established the Abrahamic Covenant, resulting in a child of their own. 

Covenants are contracts that outline the rights and responsibilities between people. In Abraham's day they didn't sign written contracts, they sealed them with animal sacrifices cut into two parts and laid out on the ground. Both people participated in the contract by walking between the pieces, essentially saying, “This is what you can do to me if I fail to keep my promises." The amazing thing is that when God established His covenant with Abraham, He alone walked through the pieces, saying He alone would bear the responsibility to uphold the covenant. Walking the aisle of sacrifice alone was God's response to Abraham and Sarah’s doubts, sin, mistrust, and missteps. God did what He did to protect the relationship He had with His people flawed, broken, and inconsistent as they were. That is hard for me to wrap my mind around! But, because of their story I can trust God to protect my relationship with Him even when I doubt, sin, mistrust, and misstep. 

Another story that captured my attention was Jacob's story. He came into this world holding onto his brother’s foot. From then on he and Esau developed an ugly sibling rivalry that was fueled by living with parents who played favorites. Jacob was one to want what he wanted when he wanted it and he would used deceit to get it if need be. The final straw was when he deceived his dad into giving him Esau's birthright. He had to flee to escape Esau's rage and as he lay down to sleep the restless sleep theives on the run sleep, he had a dream. He saw a stairway extending from heaven to earth with angels ascending and descending, revealing that God was with him even in the aftermath of his deception and running. He gave him the land on which he lay, promising him that all people on earth would be blessed through him. I take comfort in the fact that God didn’t leave him alone in the mess he had created, but met him right in the middle of it all. And, as far as I could tell, he didn't even require him to reform before He made His promises known. He simply extended to him a relationship based on His covenantal love. 

Jacob went on to marry two sisters, one of which he favored. He had children with them both as well as their handmaidens. Still a greedy soul, he manipulated his uncle’s herds to gain wealth. And, when he got caught, he fled with his family in tow. With an angry brother ahead and an angry father-in-law behind, he had another late-night encounter with God, which turned into a long, hard wrestling match that ended when God wrenched Jacob's hip out of socket and told him his name would be changed to Israel. I love that God refused to give up on Jacob. Instead, he came to him and let him wrestle long and hard. I even love that He left Jacob with a limp that would forever remind him of God’s presence in the darkest parts of his story. Because of his story I can trust God won't leave me in the messes of my own doing, but will meet me as often as it takes to make me willing to hold on to Him so He can lead me out of the darkness.   

Let’s look at the Israelites who lived in Egypt. The first Israelite to get there was Joseph, whose brothers had sold him into slavery. While God blessed Joseph in Egypt, his father and his brothers were starving back home. God graciously used Joseph's blessing to save his brothers. Four hundred years later the Egyptians became afraid of the Israelites because they had grown in numbers. They enslaved them, treated them ruthlessly, increased their work load, and ordered midwives to kill their babies to stop their population growth. The desperate Israelites cried out to God and He heard, sending Moses to lead them home. After many negotiations intertwined with catastrophic plagues a stubborn Pharaoh let Israel go. God went with them, becoming a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night. Pharaoh quickly changed his mind and chased them, flanking the Israelites from behind with the Red Sea directly in front of them. They became terrified and cried out to God, questioning His love, His motives, and His plans. It was in the face of their doubt that God delivered them through the sea. In response to their deliverance they worshiped God, praising His unfailing love and strength. 

However, they soon became thirsty and grew dissatisfied with God's provisions and leading. In their state of dissatisfaction they failed to enjoy God's continual presence. But, God never left. He knew that trust is hard for those wounded by trauma, abuse, and infanticide. He was patient, understanding that in an imperfect, sinful world people carry wounds that impact their ability to trust Him. From their story, I can know that God understands wounding and is patient with me even when my faith is harder to grow. 

There are so many more stories that spoke to me--a whole Bible full! But I'll stop with Peter because I can so relate to him. He was quick to follow Jesus, quick to acknowledge Him as the Son of God, and quick to proclaim what he could do for Him. Yet, in Jesus darkest hours he vehemently denied Jesus--not once but three times. And, in the shame of that he withdrew to his former life. I am sure he thought He had blown it too big to be of use, but Jesus sought him out and reinstated him to His calling, promising the Holy Spirit would enable Him to live out that calling. From his story I know I can trust God who forgives denial and failure by leaning in closer still, filling me with His Spirit. I can trust God who provides a Helper to indwell, empower, and comfort to not give up on me even when I struggle. 

The more stories I read, the more I realize the story God is penning for me (and you) to live is a story of redemption, not perfection. And, no matter how big or how frequently I blow it, my God is there in the midst of it all. The victories I have sought have became more of a reality as I have invited Jesus into the dark places where sin was pervasive and pain ran deep. When I chose to be real about my weaknesses I learned experientially His truth that His power is made perfect in weaknesses. No matter how big the struggle, my God is bigger still and now matter how weak I am, God's strength is sufficient. 

Statisfying our Unquenchable Thirst

When my brother, sister, and I were young, we often traveled with my parents, grandmother, and great aunt. On one trip we found ourselves very thirsty, but it wasn't time to make the scheduled stop. My little sister was the one who announced that she was thirsty. My great aunt dug through her purse and handed each of us kids chewing gum, hoping that would alleviate our thirst until we stopped. But, it started raining and all those drops of water constantly reminded us of the water we craved, but could not have. My sister reminded my parents that she was still thirsty, only to have my mom tell her to chew her gum to which she responded, "Well, now my gum is thirsty, too!" 

That story often comes to mind when I read John 4. In this chapter, Jesus and His disciples were traveling through Samaria when they stopped by a well to rest. Jews usually avoided this region, because they believed contact with the Samaritans would defile them. The disciples left the Lord sitting by Jacob's well to go get food. As Jesus was sitting there, a Samaritan woman approached the well. At that time, it was customary for people to get water early in the morning or late in the evening when the temperatures was cool, but she came at noon, carrying her water pot on drooping shoulders. Even from a distance, Jesus also noticed her eyes were cast-down, there was no spring in her step, and no expressions on her face. He knew she came to the well when no one else was there. He knew she came at this time to avoid disapproving looks, clicking tongues, snickers, and biting comments she experienced in her community. 

As she approached the well, she was surprised by Christ's presence. As she began to draw water from the well, Jesus asked her for a drink. Surprised that he spoke to her, she asked Him why He, being a Jew, was speaking to her a Samaritan and a woman at that. Glancing at the well, He told her that if she knew who He was, she would have asked Him for a drink of living water. She was puzzled by his comment. To her living water meant fresh pure water that was fit for drinking. He spoke to her again, asking her to her to bring her husband to see Him. She squirmed under His gaze and said she did not have a husband. He smiled ever so slightly at her discomfort, knowing her statement was half true. He caught her eye and held her gaze, telling her He knew she had had five husbands and the man she was now living with was not a husband. 

We are not told why she had had five husbands. She could have been widowed five times and the sixth man was hesitant to marry her. Or she could have been divorced five times and in her day, women could not get divorces. That meant that five men had drug her to the center of town and declared her an unfit wife. Regardless, He understood that with each death or each divorce her longing to be loved grew unbearable. If she had been divorced, the feelings of rejection and feelings of failure in fulfilling the role she was born to fulfill would also have grown. We aren’t told why she was not married to the sixth man. It could have been that she was trying save herself the public humiliation of another divorce or maybe he was using her for his pleasure and she allowed it because she needed someone to provide for her physical needs. It would have been lonely for her to live with someone who didn't love her. 

Christ knew that an unquenchable thirst had grown deep inside of her--a thirst to be fully known and deeply loved. She had a desperate need for someone to see the ugly parts of her heart and not walk away. She needed someone to care enough to instill in her the hope that she could become the woman God designed her to be. As she listened, she recognized Him, not just as a Jew, but also as a prophet and asked Him where people should go to worship. Even though, she was dodging the personal issues Christ exposed, He answered her question. It was then that she became aware that she was talking to the Messiah. He knew she had been rejected repeatedly and had a boat load of sin, both of which instilled in her deep shame. Yet, He stayed. Yet, He loved her! And He was different from the men she knew. His love was pure. It didn't con to take from her or to use her. He came to give love to her, forever changing her from a vessel of dishonor to a vessel of honor.

Jesus, just like the lady at the well, was acquainted with both grief and rejection. He was cast out of the synagogues when He began to teach. He was the object of gossip. While his neighbor's questioned His heritage, His brothers questioned His sanity and the religious leaders accused Him of being possessed by a demon. His own disciples would desert Him, His countrymen would chose the release of a murder over His, and His heavenly Father would pour His wrath on Him for sin He didn't commit. After she understood who He was, she went to her community and told everyone He knew her and was the Messiah. 

The meeting between Jesus and the woman was not a chance meeting, it was a divine appoint scheduled by God. He went through Samaria to meet her needs by offering her salvation. He did this because He understood the pain of being rejected and having needs clamoring to be met. It is comforting to know Christ sought her out to expose and heal her pain. Just as He understood her pain, He understands ours. While He hates our sin, He understands unmet needs can become so painful we look for quick fixes--fixes that were never meant to satisfy the excruciating thirst we experience. He understands we try to satisfy our thirst with things--things like friends spouses, babies, education, jobs, notoriety, wealth, popularity, alcohol, and a host of other things. These things are not evil things, but they can become wells we have hewn to satisfy thirst. But the problem with these wells is that they are dry and not meant to fill the thirst written on our heart for our Creator. And these wells, they can become idols we worship if we think these things will fill lonely hearts, erase shame and guilt we feel, and give us joy enough to heal the constant aching of hearts broken by sin. 

There is not a human alive, that isn't experiencing soul thirst and trying to fill the thirst with something other than the Lord. You and I don't need another spouse, a child, a different job, more friends, more money, or substances to abuse; we need a deep connection with the Creator who can satisfy this soul thirst. We can share our longing to be known and loved with Him, knowing He will meet us there. We can let Him see the darkest parts of us and know He won't leave. We can confess the shame-causing sin, knowing He forgives and continues His transformative work in us. 

He is the One who can satisfy the thirst we, ourselves, cannot quench. The Samaritan woman could trust the God who traveled through Samaria to meet her and we can trust the God who left the glories of heaven to rub shoulders with us as sinful and broken as we are. We can trust the Savior who wrestled with God’s will until He sweat blood, still finding courage and the will to set His face toward the cross. We can trust the Lamb who bore God's wrath for our sin to give us His goodness in its place. We can trust a God who not only saves, but seals us with His own Spirit. We can trust a God who gives spiritual gifts, declaring us a valuable part of the body. We can trust a King who promised to come again to use this period of waiting to expose our brokenness and our tendency to fill thirst with things that cannot satisfy. During this season we would be wise to remember it is a Holy celebration of a Savior who is in the business of satisfying our unquenchable thirst.  

Home for Christmas

The last eleven years I have had the privilege of serving in a support group ministry and have met some amazing and courageous ladies. One year I was leading a large group and there were several young gals who had grown up in extremely dysfunctional and abusive homes. They quickly formed a great friendship, partly because of their ages and partly because they all had difficult stories. They could identify with the pain each had endured, the struggle to find freedom from their pasts, and the hard work they would have to do to find healing and become the women God had created them to be. Diana and Tanna were two of the women that both left their childhood homes early in life. Amazingly they were wise enough to set some strict, healthy boundaries with their families of origin. The boundaries were very needed, but sometimes they felt hard. As Christmas was approaching, Diana remarked to Tanna that she was really missing her family. Tanna sighed and responded wistfully, "Yeah, I miss the family I made up, too!" They looked at each other and they both laughed because of the profound words Tanna had spoken were true. They gave me permission to share this part of their story, because it isn't just true for them, it is true for most of us. 

Holidays can be difficult to navigate. They can be difficult because we have had to separate ourselves from families that were abusive and they tend to surface grief of what was longed for but never fulfilled. It can be because the anxiety that arises with holiday preparations gets coupled with dread of the conflicts that often ignite as our extended families rub shoulders with its history and the dysfunction that arises as we push each other's buttons. It can be because tongues are loosed when alcohol flows and cutting words get said that pierce hearts to the core. It can be because of grief we feel over the loss of loved ones who made holidays special--the child, the soldier, the mom, the dad, the grandparents, or the friend gone too soon. It can be because of grief due to unfulfilled dreams being exposed by being around those whose dreams were fulfilled--dreams of a baby longed for but never had, dreams of a specific job that went to someone else, dreams of a spouse that hasn't materialized or the one who walked out, or the dream house we can't afford due to economy or mounting medical bills. It can be because of illness that can't be healed and pain that makes it hard to be around people we don't want to burden. It can be because of mental illness and the unpredictability of another's actions or even our own depression that is a fog crowding out joy. It can be because of eating disorders that trigger anxiety as holidays are planned around food. It can be because of the fear of giving presents that don't please or because we fear we can't react to a gift the way others need us to. And for some it can be the pressure family puts on us do away with boundaries we put in place to protect our families and ourselves.    

So, how do we navigate the holidays? First, we begin by going into the season with our eyes wide open. There are no perfect families and their will never be a perfect Christmas. We will enjoy Christmas more when we let go of expectations and the made-up families that live in our minds, accepting our families as they are. We can commit to treating others with respect and practicing good self-care by getting plenty of rest, drinking water, eating somewhat healthy, and using our voice to request what we desire and what we need. We can refuse to take every word, action, or attitude personally because those things are about others' hearts not ours. We can take quiet moments alone to breathe, grieve, or regroup as we needed. We can give thanks for the good moments and learn from the bad, knowing that one doesn't cancel the other out. We can make sure we extend grace to others as well as ourselves. We can own our mistakes, apologizing and making amends when needed. We can keep short accounts and forgive quickly. Us overwhelmed introverts can refuse to compare ourselves to extroverts and focus on one person at a time and have meaningful conversations, maybe looking for the one who looks as lost as we feel.   

Second, we can remember we have a Savior who cares and wants us to take our grief, our fear, our hurt, and our dreams to Him. If anyone understands dysfunctional families He does. Just look at the people who were in His family line. Abraham who was commended for his faith lied about Sarah being his wife. Jacob weaved a mighty mess with his wives and concubines and the favoritism he showed one son over eleven others. Naomi--she became so bitter after the loss of her husband that she changed her name to Mara. David, the man after God's own heart messed up his family by abusing Bathsheba and murdering her husband. He ended up with a son who raped his daughter and chose to do nothing about it. Every family in his family line had its sin, its secrets, and its dysfunction. So, I believe He gets ours. This was proved by the way He treated those around Him. He was full of compassion for the woman caught in adultery, who was thrust at his feet without her partner. He was full of compassion for the woman at the well who had been dragged to the center of town five times and declared an unfit wife. He was full of compassion for the ill, the blind, the deaf, and the crippled. He fed both those who were physically hungry and those who were spiritually hungry. He allowed Mary and Martha to vent their grief and stood at the grave of Lazarus and wept with them before He called him out. Jesus cares. Jesus understands.

Third, we can go into the holidays fully confident we have been given a new Heritage through Christ. The pain of our past, the dysfunction of our families, the failure of our Christmases to be perfect don't define us. Jesus, His love and His sacrifice, do. We are called beloved, chosen, blessed, forgiven, children, and friends. As I reflect on Christmases past, I think one of my most pleasant Christmases was when my children were teenagers. They got up early as they always had and then after they opened gifts they all fell asleep as they waited for Christmas dinner to be cooked. After I got the turkey on, I looked around at my sleeping teens and picked up my Bible and read the Christmas story again, feeling overwhelmed by His love and felt a heart connection with Him that gave me such peace. I felt a sense of belonging and realized that because of Jesus I was truly home for Christmas. That sweet moment prepared me for the losses of my parents and my kids leaving the nest who can't always make it home. It also fulfilled one of my deepest longings--to feel at home somewhere--the somewhere just happened to be a Someone and that Someone is Jesus. 

Living with the Hope of the Resurrection

As I was thinking about Easter and what it means to live with the hope of the resurrection, I thought of my sweet friend, Daphne, whom I’ve known for over thirty years. Five years ago, she and her husband Philip lost their oldest child in an accident. At the time, I was the administrative assistant in Dr. Norm Wright’s Trauma and grief class and I reached out to Daphne even though we were miles apart. Over these last five years she has shared her thoughts, feelings, and the lessons she has learned through her loss with me. What I love about Daphne is that she is transparent and honest about her thoughts and her feelings and she courageously reaches out when she needs support. I’ve been amazed at the strength and hope that she has and her willingness to revisit her own pain as she goes to other parents who have lost a child as she speaks hope into their lives when they most need it. I’ve been so blessed by our conversations that I asked her if she would share about living with the hope of the resurrection as a mom who has lost a child. She graciously agreed to do it. So, pull up a chair and sit a spell and read her story and hear her voice…   

The day Larry died was a beautiful sunny day. It was the weekend after spring break and we had all been together as a family since our oldest daughter, Mary, was home from Mississippi College. All four kids were looking forward to Saturday so they could celebrate Stephen's birthday mud riding at the lake bottom. After they left that afternoon, Philip and I decided it was too nice a day to work in the yard so we went for a walk together in the woods. We stopped in a place with huge pine trees and talked while staring up at the sky. I remember how peaceful, calm, and relaxing it was to just be lying there in the pine needles. We had great conversation and then decided to head back to the house, eat supper, and watch a movie. Phillip hopped in the shower while I got supper ready. I was just pulling it out of the oven when we got the first phone call from Stephen. I could tell by Phillip's voice and the look in his eyes that this was not a good call. He kept telling Stephen to calm down and that we were on our way. All Stephen told his dad was that Larry had a wreck and for us to please get there as soon as we could. Stephen knew at that time Larry was gone, but he didn't want to tell us that over the phone.

We grabbed a few things and left the house in a matter of minutes. Phillip got another call from Stephen and he assured him we were on our way and encouraged him to just be calm and pray. I got a call from Sally and I did the same. I happened to think to ask her who else was in the vehicle and that's when we found out about the other boys and Ashley. I told Sally to pray for her brother and Ash, try to be calm, and reminded her that we were on our way. We knew we would have very limited cell service so I made as many phone calls as I could until I lost service. Then I texted, "Don't know details.  Larry has had a bad wreck. Please pray and ask everybody you know to pray." I sent this text to as many people I could think of. I started getting text after text saying prayers were being lifted and a lot saying they were praying for peace for us. I have to admit, I was a little aggravated. I had asked my friends to pray for Larry and they were telling me that they were praying for me to have peace. This would all make since in just a little while. 

It was so quiet on that 45-minute drive. I continued to text and pray and let my mind wonder what the following days would include. I pictured ICU with Larry hooked to machines and possible broken bones. I would put that quickly out of my mind and asked God to help me handle whatever state we found Larry.

When we finally got there, we came upon over a mile of parked cars. It was dark so there was just a steady stream of lights. We drove in the left lane around the cars until we saw where Stephen was parked. It was very quiet. I was expecting sirens and chaos but it was all so calm. I opened my door and jumped out before Phillip came to a complete stop. He was finishing a conversation with Ashley's dad so he remained in the vehicle for just a few seconds longer than me. As I came around the back of the suburban I saw Stephen running towards me. He threw his arms around me, crying he said, "Mama, Larry is gone". We knew Ashley had been airlifted to Memphis, and Dusty was being carried to the hospital so I wasn't sure where "gone" was. I grabbed his face, looked him in the eyes and asked, "What are you telling me?" He then said, "Mama, Larry is dead." At that point, his legs gave out from under him and I had his entire weight in my arms. I held him up and kept him from falling to the ground. I asked who told him that and he said everybody. I thought he was just listening to bystanders talk and told him not to think that until we knew officially. I then looked for Sally and Mary. Phillip had gone over to see if he could get information about Larry. I finally had my children and Ashley's brother in a circle around me all hugging. I asked someone to please pray. I don't remember what was prayed but I do remember that I had a feeling of peace come over me like I had never experienced. As I stood there with my arms around my children I knew whatever happened, we were going to all be alright. 

It had gotten chilly so I sent someone to get a blanket out of our vehicle. Philip hadn't returned with any news so we sat quietly in the dark. It wasn't long until he came and knelt down in front of me and held my hand. 

My husband is a kind, considerate, and compassionate man. I'm not sure how he had composed himself in such a short amount of time. He had just seen our son and had identified his body and now he had the task of telling his family the news. He told me about the others involved in the wreck first. Then with so much tenderness in his eyes and voice, he apologized to me. He said, "I am so sorry, Daphne, but Larry didn't survive the accident." Time stopped.

I heard someone screaming and realized it was me. My mind spun out of control and I wailed. I'm not sure how long that went on. Phillip just held me there. All this time I had been wondering where Larry was and what was happening with him. Suddenly, an overwhelming peace came over me. My screaming was hushed instantly. I realized in that moment that I knew exactly where Larry was. It is an indescribable feeling to realize that one of your precious children is in the presence of his Savior. I sat in awe of this place. God had been here. 

In the days after the accident, so many little details of that night made so much more sense. My friends had prayed I would have peace. Those prayers were answered in the exact moment I needed them to be. Our days were now a bit chaotic, but God had given us such a peaceful afternoon to get our thoughts together. Thing after thing happened that reminded me of what a merciful, gracious, and loving God I have. How did people who don't have a relationship with God handle this kind of situation? It's unimaginable to me. 

Larry accepted Christ as his Savior when he was young. He understood that when Jesus died on the cross, that He died for him. Because of this, I know one day I will see my son again in heaven. That gives me so much comfort.

1 Thessalonians 4:13 states, "I do not want you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning those who have fallen asleep, lest you sorrow as others who have no hope. For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so God will bring with him those who sleep in Jesus." What a blessing! Jesus died but he didn't stay that way. He arose from the dead. He conquered death. Not only that, the Bible also promises me that one day He's going to come back, "For the Lord Himself will descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of an archangel, and with the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And thus we shall always be with the Lord. Therefore comfort one another with these words." (I Thessalonians 4:16-18 NKJV) 

I am indeed comforted by these words and live, looking forward to the day I'll see my son again. 

                                                     

                                                   Daphne McKibben

                                                            4/13/17

Love Part 5--His Love was Screaming in the Silence

If there was ever a man who deserved to live life filled with joy, it would have been Jesus. Though clothed in the clothes of the common, He deserved royal robes, a golden crown, and a scepter. His character was marked by a righteousness no other man had ever achieved. His was a ministry characterized by miracles, grace, freedom, and healing. He exhibited authority over nature, man, and demons. More importantly He possessed a pure, unadulterated love for His Father and an unconditional, sacrificial love for man that was the motivation for every act He performed and every word He spoke. 

To begin to understand the depths of Christ's love, we are looking past the life He lived to the death He died. In was in His death that He chose to set aside His right to live to experience our deepest fear--of death. He chose to set aside His glory to bear our heaviest burden--the burden of sin and shame. He chose to set aside His perfect relationship with His Father to feel our deepest pain--our separation from the Creator.  

During His life Christ expressed His love through through many active ways. But at the end He chose to express it in a different way. As He was arrested, tried, beaten, and crucified, He maintained a purposeful silence that spoke His love even more loudly than the all the words He spoke and all the actions He carried out. 

The same mouth that spoke the universe into place was silent when He was taken away. The same mouth that calmed angry seas remained silent as people twisted His words during His illegal trials. The same voice that called a man from the grave refused to answer lying accusations hurled. The same voice that caused soldiers to fall back remained silent as He was beaten. The same strong voice that confronted the Pharisees was silent in the face of the mocking. He who had every right to defend Himself and He who had the power to walk away remained silent--and His love it was screaming in that silence because in the silence He was actively laying down His life. 

He remained silent when soldiers took their whips with sharp stones and bits of bones and beat Him, ripping apart His flesh. He was silent when soldiers put a scarlet robe on His raw flesh and jammed a crown of thorns upon His brow. He was silent when the soldier's mockery was no longer enough to satisfy the angry crowd. They were so enraged by the perfect life He lived, the sinners He forgave, the broken people He healed, and the people bound by sin He had set free that they joined the cruel soldiers by slapping His face, pulling hairs from His beard, hurling curses in His ears, spitting saliva in His face, and bidding for the clothes He would no longer need.  

He maintained His silence as the robe was ripped from His wounded back. He maintained it with each clang of the hammer as the searing pain of nails broke through flesh and bones. He remained silent as they picked up the cross and dropping it into the ground with a thud. He was silent as He gazed into a sea of faces filled with hate. He was silent through the searing pain of the nails and the pain of raw back rubbing against rough wood as moved to take each breath. He was silent--hanging suspended between heaven and earth and His silence...His silenced it screamed of His love as it was being poured out. 

He looked around at the people below and finally broke the silence with words we all need to hear. He didn't scream of the injustice or demand to be set free; He asked His Father to forgive--forgive those who rejected Him, forgive those who denied Him, forgive those who deserted Him, forgive those who falsely accused Him, forgive those who mocked Him, forgive those who beat Him, forgive those who hammered nails, forgive those whose sin evoked the Father's wrath. 

As the afternoon wore on darkness blanketed the earth and our sins--past, present, and future--ware laid on Him and Christ faced a realm of pain never ever experienced before or since. He felt the collective pain we feel when we are bound by sin--lonely, hopeless, and forsaken. For the first time He was separated from His Father because of our sin and in the anguish of being alone He broke the silence. It was a heart-rending cry from the depths of a deeply hurting soul, "My God, My God why have You forsaken me?"  With a heart broken by separation, He released His spirit, dying the death--the death we deserved. 

The silence surrounding His death speaks loudly of love. He loved deeply enough to die for disciples who deserted Him, for Peter who vehemently denied Him, for those who didn't recognize Him, for those who hated Him, for those who arrested Him, for those who beat Him, for those who mocked Him, and for those who hammered the nails. He loved deeply enough to maintain His silence and to stay on the cross as our sin, yours and mine, made Him feel alone and forsaken. 

His outrageous love endured the cruelty of the cross for the joy of presenting us, made holy and pure by His blood, as beloved children. We, the children who sin, who struggle with unbelief, who fail to love well, who at times deny Him, are the children purchased, purified, covered, and protected by the blood He shed. And His love? It was screaming in the silence. 

The Transformation of Shame to Glory

"But you, O LORD, are a shield about me,

my glory, and the lifter of my head."

Psalm 3:3

 

I recently had the privilege of hearing my favorite author, Diane Langberg, speak on the topic of shame. It reminded me of the journey I've been on the last few years. I will be sharing some of her thoughts in this post. Her talk was titled "Shame and Trauma" and was given at the AACC Be Strong World Conference 2015 and can be purchased from their website.

Shame is a very uncomfortable emotion and is experienced in relationships. It begins in childhood when we realize we're "less than" others. Little boys feel it when they realize they aren't as strong as Dad. Little girls experience it when they realize they can't read as well as Mom. It's also apparent  when we observe a parent in a store, dragging a little one behind. We can read shame in the child's face as she believes she's defective because she can't keep up. 

After The Fall, Adam and Eve's emotional response to sin was shame. To hide their shame they covered the parts of themselves that were different. But, the coverings couldn't cover the shame running deep within. So, when they heard the Lord coming, they tried hiding, but the hiding couldn't conceal the wrong done or the shame felt. So, they blamed--Eve blamed the serpent, Adam blamed Eve, and Adam cast a bit of blame in God's direction, as well. But, the covering, the hiding, and the blaming couldn't alleviate their shame. So, shame was passed down to their children, who passed it down to their children, who passed it down to their children, all the way down to you and to me.

I admit that shame is something I've been intimately acquainted with. My first memory of it was developmental shame. On a family trip, Mom started singing beautifully. I was around age four and started singing with her and did okay as I sang melody with her. Then she asked me to sing the melody so she could harmonize. But when she sang harmony I couldn't hear the melody in my head and couldn't harmonize with her. Though she tried to ease my discomfort, I heard her words through a veil of shame and sat there with face beet-red, believing I wasn't as good as her.

Another source of shame was inflicted upon me when I was abused. I was too young to understand what had happened the first time, but old enough to understand something shameful had occurred.  The shame grew with a few more abusive encounters and grew again when I was old enough to realize what had happened. I carried the shame of being chose by those abusers--shame that was really theirs to bear.

Shame also surfaced when I disobeyed my parents and was punished because I interpreted punishment and love as mutually exclusive and believed, when punished, I was too bad to be loved.

Shame also surfaced with the realization that I had the power to inflict pain with words, with silences, with actions, and with inaction.

Then shame sank all the way to the core when we were in an accident in which there was a fatality. I believed I should have been able to stop the accident. We weren't to talk about it, so I stuffed the shame and developed an eating disorder. I focused on calorie-counting, obsessive exercise, and  numbers on the scale to avoid feeling shame caused by the accident and by a maturing body that was drawing unwanted attention.

The eating disorder brought its own shame, but the shame of not being a size 1 and less than 95 pounds, as bad as it felt, was better than experiencing the shame of sin, of abuse, of the accident, of being inadequate, and of feeling defective. As shame grew, I avoided its pain with anger that anger ran hot. It was turned inward so both my real and my imagined failures were met with self-contempt.

Shame runs all the way to the core, because we are bent to do wrong. It runs to the core because we hide our trues selves behind masks that we're too terrified to remove and we know the selves we present are false. Shame runs to the core because we've been deeply wounded by others, leaving us believing we aren't worth loving, we aren't good enough to be accepted, or we aren't valuable enough to be cared for. It runs to the core because of broken relationships we can't mend, move past, or in which we haven't be able to give or receive forgiveness. It runs deep because at the end of the day we know just how poorly we fulfill the command to love as Jesus loves.

I've known many others like me, who numbed shame with self-hatred, believing and living as invisible individuals, not worth the space they take up, the food they eat, or the compliments they receive. I've also known others who numbed shame by having contempt for others. These are dear souls whose judgments are harsh, whose words cut deep, or who cast doubt on the character of others with words softly, but slyly spoken.

I wouldn't be surprised if under the hateful actions of bullies, rapists, mass shooters, runs a core of shame so deep it's strangling the good in them. They avoid  shame by verbal assaulting, physically assaulting, raping, or murdering any who might see their shame. Shame drives the hatred that is spewed at individuals and people groups like families, genders, races, religions, or whole cultures.

We can experience communal shame that is felt when someone in our community sins. For example, when church leaders fall, we all feel the shame. When a family member fails, the whole family feels the impact. This thing called shame can be governed by culture whose morals codes are different. In our culture, we experience shame more as individuals. But in other cultures shame is felt when family honor is broken by things like poor grades, not giving birth to a man child, or by being raped. Diane shared stories of women who were killed by family members because they were victims of rape, which brought disgrace to their families and the only way out of the shame was killing the victim.

Shame is a thief. It robs us of dignity, of relationships, of being fully known, and of being accepted. When God asked Adam and Eve where they were after they sinned, it was because He wanted to see them and set them free from the shame they were experiencing. But in shame they feared exposure. Like them, we hide our shamed selves. We hide from the exposure of guilt,  dishonor, humiliation, and inadequacy. We hide behind arrogance, education, economic status, power, self-contempt, others-contempt, alcohol, drugs, eating disorders, rage, good behavior, bad behavior, and ultimately suicide. Hiding can never resolve shame, it only deepen it because  isolation  allows shame-filled thoughts to fill our minds--thoughts like "I am too big," "I am too ugly," "I am too stupid," "I and too defective," as well as thoughts like "I am a loser," "I don't have a spiritual gift," or "I don't fit in anywhere." As Diane pointed out, it causes us to measure our uniqueness from how defective we believe we are rather than from the gifts, abilities, and intelligence we have.  Shame runs deeper than emotions because, in shame, we lose sight of who we were created to be as image bearers of the great I AM. She pointed out that shame has been handed down generation after generation and so people curse, use drugs, sell themselves, inflict pain, and we murder. And all of this is because shame was the loss of glory we all experienced in The Fall.

Diane also pointed out that our responses to shame are the same responses we have towards trauma. First, we respond by fighting. We do this by attacking our selves through starvation or other self-destructive behaviors. We do this by attacking others, especially those that might expose us or our weaknesses. Second we respond by fleeing. We do this by isolating or being over zealous in religious activity and a frenzy of work. Third, we respond by freezing. We do this by dissociating so no one will see us and so no one can make us own our shame. We also do this by remaining silent or passive. Regardless of our response the goal is always to make sure the real us won't be seen.

Yet there is so much more to the story!

We were created in God's image to bear His glory, not to live as disgraced, blemished, reprehensible, and inadequate beings. We're to remember God Himself covered Adam and Eve with animal skins, pointing to the Savior who shed His blood for sin and shame. It's God who is our glory and the one who takes our head and lifts it up so we can view His beautiful face.

He is a Savior deeply acquainted with shame. He was a born to  an unwed mother and came from shameful region called Nazareth. He rubbed shoulders with the poor, the tax collectors, the women, the prostitutes, the lepers, the maimed, the blind, the deaf, the demon possessed, and even the half-bred Samaritans, all of whom were considered people of shame. He was accused of being Beelzebub, crazy, and a liar. He was rejected and sold for the price of a slave. Arrested by religious leaders, He was crowd-mocked, face-slapped, spittle-drenched, beard-plucked, clothing-stripped, and cross-hung. In death He bore the full weight of our sin and our shame. Yet, He did not hang His face, He despised shame and looked it squarely in the face until His redemptive work was done.

We were called in Hebrews to fix our eyes upon Him. As we behold Him, we are fully seen by Him and our shame is transformed into glory as our position as Image bearers is restored. When we grasp that, we are free of shame. We are free to love and free to go to the shamed and identify with them as Jesus did us. We are free to lift their faces so they, too, can behold His face and have their shame transformed to glory.

The questions we must face is, "Where is our gaze? Is it on ourselves as we bury our shame or is it on Him who can set us free?"

Holy Potholes

"And we know that for those who love God

all things work together for good,

for those who are called according to His purpose."

Romans 8:28



I hate to admit it, but I am a friend of potholes. I first became acquainted with them when I had my learner's permit. It was usually my mom who rode with me and she would often tell me to watch out for the potholes in the road. But, to me, the road looked smooth and I would invariably hit the ones she was warning me about. We were both frustrated but I wasn't seeing what she was seeing. Then one day it became obvious that I was having trouble seeing the black board at school. After being fitted with glasses, my mom let me drive home. That day as we pulled away from the curb, I  verbalized my experience of seeing through lenses. I admitted I didn't realize I should be able to actually read the names of streets on street signs, read license plates,  or see the chrome on the backs of cars. Then when I pulled off of the main street to go to our house, she reminded me to watch out for potholes and I could actually see what she was talking about as I navigated a much smoother ride home.

Over time I've realized there are all sorts of potholes. There are small ones we can barely see that don't cause any damage. There are larger potholes that aren't very deep that may jar us , but leave the car intact. In California we have earthquake damaged roads riddled with many little potholes that are barely discernible. Yet, when we drive on them we can feel the car vibrating as we hit pothole after pothole. I am also very familiar with potholes that are of the deeper variety caused by semi's. These  do quite a bit of damage to tires, throw off the alignment, and can rip oil pans in two. We hit one of these while driving on a country road. Suddenly, we saw the large pothole in our lane, but with oncoming traffic and our speed, we were unable to safely move to the shoulder to avoid it. It did quite a bit of damage that required us to replace the oil pan.

Many times I've heard people using the analogy of a journey to explain life. I think potholes is a good addition to this analogy. We bump into some potholes because we are spiritually blind. Perhaps we grew up in a home or in a culture that had certain practices that aren't healthy or godly even though they are generally accepted by society or our family group. We experience bumps and bruises with these potholes without realizing it because the potholes are so familiar and because we are blind to the fact that the potholes are doing damage to relationships and causing pain. Consider a family where lying is a pattern as it was in Jacob's family. We may want to be trusted and respected, but when we are given to lying that makes it difficult to get what we desire most. We may desire a healthy rich marriage, but if we grew up in a home riddled with gender contempt, we may be prone to do things or display attitudes that prevents the very thing we desire most. I have had other point out behaviors and/or attitudes that were a blind spot for me. I didn't even realize I did or said things until they were pointed out to me.  

Then there are the small spiritual potholes we face daily from simply living in a sinful world. We experience minor and major abuses and sometimes we are abusive as we allow the sinful flesh to drive behavior or speech. We experiences some pretty big bumps and deeper emotional bruises from these types potholes. In a fallen world we may also experience weather interrupting plans, cashiers being rude, a teacher yelling in frustration, mom's snapping because they're stressed, and a friend hastily speaking unkind words. We can often navigate these things unless we are tired or too many of them happen in a short amount of time and we get our eyes off of Jesus and begin to judge others and/or ourselves, resulting in our responding in ways that only dig the potholes deeper.

There are spiritual potholes that resemble the ones caused by earthquakes. The are usually potholes that are the aftermath of some kind of early childhood trauma or life altering event that was swept under the carpet and never dealt with. We look like everyone else and yet, the journey we are on now is full of little pits and holes that continue to shake our lives, make our relationships more difficult, and make it more difficult to fully trust God. We appear normal and look like we are navigating life pretty well but there is just this underlying knowledge that the tiny pits are there and they make us feel unsafe, unstable, and wear us out as we navigate life. It is frustrating because we know we are different, but are often unaware as why.. 

There are also those huge Spiritual potholes we may see up a head. Sometimes, we can navigate around them. This might be as we recognize the devastating affects of sinful behavior and turn away from the behaviors. This might be when we recognize unhealthy, hurtful relationships and establish boundaries that prevent us from experiencing unnecessary pain. This might occur as we make financial decisions and recognize there are spiritual principals we can adopt that will lead us to financial freedom. This might occur as we recognize we do things that have the potential to destroy relationships we really value and we choose to change the way we relate. It may occur as we recognize a pattern in ourselves that is hindering the growth of our relationship with the Lord and choose to practice spiritual disciplines instead.

Then there are those more devastating potholes. Some we see coming and others we do not. These are the potholes that tend to be life altering--a spouse walking after twenty years married, a wife choosing an addiction over her family, a son succumbing to the dark voice of depression as he takes his life, a daughter starving herself too thin, and a parent being lost in the fog of Alzheimer's. It could also be the stock market crashing as retirement funds disappear, jobs are lost, and no one feels financially secure. These could also be oncoming hurricanes, tsunamis, or major earthquakes destroying homes, taking lives, and squashing a sense of safety. These could be a loved ones dying in accidents, a young father disabled by brain bleeds, and a soldier returning home without his limbs. It could be a woman raped, pornography found on spouses' phones, and children being preyed upon. It could be mass shootings in schools, malls, churches, or theaters--destroying hearts that once felt safe and causing minds to be forever riddled with flashbacks of horror.  

This journey called life has lots and lots of potholes. Because of this, we run the risk of remembering that they are not just potholes, they are spiritual potholes because they either draw us to or drive us away from God. We don't realize those pesky little potholes are moments of grace that slightly disrupt life so we can examine what we really believe about God, life, and love. We forget they are opportunities to make adjustments and grow as we practice loving in the face of irritation, trusting in the face of interruption, and releasing our will and our ways to His.

Those spiritual potholes caused by childhood trauma are potholes that feel unjust because life, loving, and trusting is harder for victims. But they are grace because God has promised us that His grace is sufficient--sufficient enough to allow us to wrestle with His sovereignty over trauma, sufficient enough to allow us to wrestle hard with the concept of forgiving the unforgiveable, and sufficient enough to allow us to connect to the heart of God in a way that provides deep healing and power we never knew we had. No matter how deep the wounding from trauma, His love is bigger still. If we lean into Him in our pain, we will experience healing and a deeper intimacy that can only come from fellowship of suffering abuse similar to His own.

The potholes we experience because of living in a fallen world offer us grace by giving us the drive to seek God's wisdom to solve life's problems. It is grace because it affords us the opportunity to examine ourselves and confess our sin, removing all barriers to the sanctification to which God has called us. They give us the opportunity to see His face on every page of His Word as we dig deep for His wisdom. They give us the opportunity to experience and express grace as His image bearers who were ultimately saved by grace through faith and who have been changed to become grace givers.

Even those large potholes that leave us feeling breathless and unstable ground are graces that have been filtered by the love-scarred hands of a traumatized Savior. Our losses create in us a homesickness for our heavenly home where there will be no more death, no more sin, no more sickness, and no more sorrow. Our losses tend to reveal to us the idols we have held onto without knowing it. Spouses, children, jobs, friends, money, bodies, culture, churches, or our health can all be false sources of security and pride. Without meaning to, we often find our selves looking to these to find our worth, value, and significance. When we lose them, we are stripped bare and all we have left in the pain is God--the God who created us and who can sustain us when we are assailed by devastation. Sometimes it takes major life altering potholes to reveal to us our tendency to look for God's benefits instead of God Himself.

As the new year begins, I want to confess my own sense of entitlement to an easy smooth life and embrace the truth that this journey is going to be chock full of potholes. I want to look at the journey through the lens of His truth so that I can avoid all avoidable potholes that cause unnecessary suffering. I want to navigate the journey in such a way that when I am faced with those big potholes I can't avoid, I will do it with grace and an ever growing faith that seeks the One who can wisely be my navigator, who can be my stability, and be my sense of safety when jolted. I want to know the One who was hated and still loved, who was abused and still healed, who was betrayed and remained faithful, who was crucified for sin and rose victoriously to give life.  

Traumatized for Love

"Out of the anguish of His soul He shall see and be satisfied;

By His knowledge shall the righteous One, my Servant,

and make many to be accounted righteous,

and He shall bear their iniquities."

Isaiah 53:11

As we enter the season of Lent, many people choose to fast from something as a way to express love and gratitude to a Savior who suffered to love and reconcile us to God. I know I'm a little more comfortable reading verses like Isaiah 9:6 that talk about the birth of Jesus and that tell us His name is "Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, and Prince of Peace!" Those are powerful names that stir up feelings of safety and security and stir a desire to trust God whose names give us a picture of what He is like. But the truth is Lent is about a different part of His story, a part that I both love I hate. I love the story because it allows us to reflect on His life during the days that lead up to the cross and that gives me glimpses into the way He relates to people. I like it because it is through His death on the cross that we have salvation. I hate this part of the story because it also reveals to my messy heart that I have a Savior that suffered terribly because He loved me and wanted to reconcile me to the Father. I hate it because it exposes how poorly I love in comparison to Him.

Isaiah 53 tells us that He was despised and rejected by men. He was Israel's long-in-coming Messiah and they rejected Him. He was wrongfully accused of many things because the miracles He performed pointed to the truth of who He is, the Words that He preached convicted spiritually dead religious leaders and freed people they had long oppressed, and the love He showed wasn't limited to just the lovely who fit the picture of religion. His love was for the unlovely, messy, wounded, needy, and sinful people like me. The gospels also tell us His own family thought He was crazy! He was "run" out of town. He was also accused of getting His miraculous power from Satan and eventually was betrayed and deserted by friends during His final hours. 

The Scriptures tell us He was a man who was acquainted with grief. He wept at the death of a friend and He wept over Israel because she was like a bunch of sheep without a Shepherd. He served the crowds meals, cast out demons, healed broken bodies, gave sight to the blind and ears that hear to the deaf, restored life to a woman whose life-force was flowing out of her. He gave women used wrongfully back their dignity, allowing those deserving death and those deemed unfit for "worship" in the temple to come worship Him--One can't serve in such a messy and painful world without grieving. 

Though He had enough power in His words, to create the universe, to calm a raging storm, to cast a legion of demons out of a man no one could control, and to call a man out of His grave, He also had restraint to be silent when He was arrested. He said not a Word so that He would  be convicted, thus laying down His life for me. Looking at His restraint in light of the horror of His death, makes His silence all the more amazing. He could have spoken and those accusing Him would have fallen down dead. He could have spoken and softened their prideful hearts by exposing the ugliness within and the ungodly motives driving their actions. He could have called down the powers of Heaven, but instead, He remained silent. Silent through beatings that ripped skin from His back and left His back bleeding and raw. Silent though the crowds taunted Him. Silent as the nails were pounded into His flesh binding Him to the cross. Silent as the cross to which He was nailed was hung posing Him between Heaven and earth between two criminals--one mocking, the other trusting. 

He even chose to remain on the cross as the sin of man was put on Him--not on the cross, on Him. The darkness grew as sin after sin was placed on Him and He faced the wrath of God in my place. As darkness grew, His anguish swelled until He could be silent no more. He cried out, "MY GOD, MY GOD, WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME?" He had been silent until He felt what I feel as a broken, sinful human being who wondered if I had been forsaken when I experienced deep pain. He was silent so He could lay down His life, but He broke the silence so I would know He understands the part of me that wanted to be protected, but wasn't--that part of me that felt  forsaken, but wasn't.

His death was brutal because He faced God's wrath for sin. It serves as a reminder of the seriousness of sin--sin that draws us away from God, His pure love, and His goodness. His death was a brutal reminder that sin kills. It kills the human spirit, deceives the human  mind, crushes the human emotions, and destroys families, churches, communities and countries. 

His death was brutal because we need reminders of the depth God would go to woo us back to Him, of how far He would go to defeat the enemy of our souls, and what lengths He would go to communicate His love to our desperate hearts. It is not about warm fuzzy feelings we call love, it is about sacrifice, it is about confronting the false idols that don't satisfy our soul thirst or heart hunger, it is about doing the next right thing no matter how hard it is or how much it goes against what our prideful hearts want. It is about facing fearful things with courage, facing confusing circumstances with firm belief that those circumstances don't negate His love, care, and compassion, and laying down our demands, our sense of entitlement to embrace the truth that this life is not about me, it is about living life one sacrifice at a time. 

His death was brutal so we would never forget that grace covers sin with a blood sacrifice, that goodness overcomes evil, and that love overcomes hatred. His death was brutal to remind us that love never comes easy, it is hard and always requires a laying down of self.

As I contemplate His death this Lent season, I can see in my mind each of my sins etched in His skin. I am so thankful I'm no longer shamed by that picture, but am overwhelmed with a love that would do that for me. Anne Voskamp shared in one of her posts on lent that she sat down and ate the soup of a meal she had committed to fasting for Lent. Upon realizing it, her thoughts weren't self-debasing thoughts as mine so often are. Instead, she whispered a prayer, "Do I love You so little?" When I read her words it hit me, that is Godly sorrow. She understands grace and she understands it is His goodness that leads to repentance not toxic shame we heap on our selves. I pray that by contemplating the sacrifice of my traumatized Savior I will allow His great love to be shed abroad in my heart and have the courage to love as sacrificially as He loves. 

   



Fear is a Dangerous Thing

"But the midwives feared God and did not do

as the king of Egypt commanded them,

but let the male children live." 

Exodus 1:17

 

I used to secretly believe that emotions were like God's little "oops" when he created women. There are several reasons I had that belief. One is that some emotions are quite uncomfortable and I didn't like  feeling them. Second, my father was quite stoic, as is my husband, and any emotion displayed against their stoicism always seems out of control. Third, there were several times in the church that I was admonished for expressing an emotion that was normal and I had come to believe that I was defective as a believer for experiencing emotions. Fourth, I was pretty intuitive from early childhood and I could sense and see little changes indicating things were not right, but when I asked questions, I was usually told everything was fine. So, I began to doubt my ability to see accurately and assumed the emotions that were triggered by what I thought I saw were not valid. 

 

A few years ago I wrote a curriculum for our high school group on the book of Matthew. As I read through the book, I looked for the relationships Jesus had with people. I also looked through the other gospels for the relational interactions recorded in those books. What was interesting is that I began to see that Jesus' feelings were recorded in the Scriptures. Jesus passionately expressed anger, sorrow, ambivalence, compassion, love, grief, and frustration. I began to realize that the culture He was born into was a more emotionally expressive culture than this culture I live in. 

 

I remember at one point the youth pastor saying to the students that the only legitimate fear object is God. I don't know that I totally agree with his statement because I believe fear has a duel purpose, but I do agree with what he was trying to say by his statement. 

 

First, fear was given to us to signal that there is impending danger and we need to take action to stay safe by fleeing, fighting, or freezing. Now, as a person who has experienced trauma in the past, I realize my danger sensor is set extra high and I over react. I am that person that screams and runs from rubber snakes just like I do rattle snakes. I tend to be jumpy in the car and slam my foot on the dash board when I feel like my husband isn't braking fast enough or assume he hasn't seen a car I have seen. In my defense, I've prevented two serious accidents in our almost forty years of marriage. In his defense, I have unnecessarily scared him thousands of times!  

 

Second, I believe God gave us fear to drive us to relationship with Him and to govern how we choose to live in this world. This is the part of fear that the youth pastor was addressing when he made his statement. To explain it, I am using the first chapter of Exodus. A new king who did not know Joseph had come to power. He saw that the number of Israelites living in the land had grown quite large. He feared that if Egypt were to go to war, the Israelites would join the enemy armies and if they did the Israelites could escape and the Egypt would easily be defeated.  

 

His fear drove him to make rotten decisions. He set up taskmasters and enslaved the Israelites. But God was on their side! The more the king oppressed them, the more they began to multiply. The more the Israelites multiplied ,the more the Egyptians feared them. Enslavement and oppression was no longer enough to make the king feel safe, so, he told the Hebrew midwives to kill every baby boy that was born to the Israelites. My stomach churns at the thought of being ordered to do that. Midwives are supposed to help mothers deliver babies safely. How horrible to think that midwives in such a trusted position would destroy the lives they were delivering. Thankfully two midwives, Shiphrah and Puah, feared God more than they feared the Egyptian king. They continued to deliver babies, but they didn't kill the little baby boys as ordered. Instead, they lied to the king, saying the babies were born before they got there. God honored their fear and blessed their actions by giving them families of their own. 

 

This chapter assures me that fear is not sin. It is a God-given emotion that has the potential to lead either to life or lead to death, both physical and spiritual. The Egyptian king didn't understand that it is God who births nations and God who removes them. He didn't understand that it was God who anointed him king and God who would take him out.

 

The king enslaved and oppressed God's chosen people because he feared them, not their God. His fear lead him to order women, against their own conscience, to carry out a mass murder of babies. In the spiritual realm the king aided the Enemy as he tried to stop the line of the promised Messiah. On the other hand, the fear--the reverence the midwives had for their God caused them to risk their own lives to obey God. As as they fulfilled their purpose and they preserved the lives of the baby boys, God used them to preserve a nation and the family line of the future Messiah. 

 

God-given fear can physically save our lives when danger triggers it and we take appropriate action. The fear of God's wrath surfaces when we realize the Creator is a holy God and we are an unholy people and that healthy fear grows as we realize it is Him who holds our lives and our eternal destiny in His hands. That fear drives us to the Messiah--the Savior who took our shame and our guilt on the cross so that we can be reconciled to Him. His perfect love casts out the fear and replaces it with a sense of reverence, of awe, a deep love, and a growing desire to know Him. As long as we remember who He is and who we are, as long as we are grateful for what He as done, we will make choices that honor Him and preserve, protect, and produce life. 

 

When we lose sight of what Christ has done for us, that old fleshly fear of man can resurface and  drive us to do things that destroy life, both physically and spiritually. I can't help but wonder how often the fear of man impacts still impacts what we do, even as believers.

 

Have we participated in gossip or slander, assassinating the reputation of another? Was it motivated by a fear of not belonging or a fear of another looking at our messy lives? 

 

Have we spoken harsh words, piercing the hearts of our children, spouses, or friends? Could it be that the anger driving those words covered a fear of being found less than perfect as a parent,  spouse, or friend?  

 

Have we stayed in bondage to behaviors, substances, or relationships, because we are afraid of what others might think if we asked for help to break the stronghold? 

 

Have we done something our boss, spouse, or church leader asked us to do that we knew was wrong because we were afraid of a loss of position or afraid to stand up to someone who has the power to ask us to leave? 

 

Have we failed to say  no to participating in sin for fear of losing friends? 

 

Have we viewed porn or not confronted a husband who does, because it comes into our home and no knows...no one, but, the grieving God who died to set us free?  

 

Have we had an abortion because we feared what the church would say if they found out we conceived a baby marriage while hoping God would understand our why?    

 

Have we failed to ask for prayer, because we are afraid it would our weaknesses or that we would be judged? 

 

I remember talking to a friend that I occasionally work for about a friend who thought something negative about me. Instead of getting all wrapped up in what the friend said, he quietly asked, "I wonder how much more freedom you would enjoy if you gave her permission to think what ever she wants to think?" I realized that if we just give other people permission to think what ever they want to think about us, it frees us to became more focused on what Christ has done for us and in us, and maybe, just maybe we would be filled with such a sense of wonder and gratitude that it would drive us to make God-honoring, life-preserving decisions.

 

Then gossip would turn into affirmation and life-building encouragement. Stinging words would be replaced by words of blessing that molds and shapes hearts rather than shredding them into pieces. Fear would be overshadowed by the courage to get help breaking strongholds that hold us tightly in their grip. Lives would begin to reflect the heart of a loving God to a dying world. Work ethics would reflect the belief that God is the real Boss with the real power. We would live morally pure lives, promoting peace rather than shame and fear of being found out. Decisions and choices would more consistently preserve life and create joy and peace. Pride would melt into humility enabling us to rely on a great and loving God who is mighty to save. 

 

I realized, as I read this story, that I don't want to fear man, I want to be a Puah or a Shiphrah who fears God and God alone. I want to be a preserver of life rather than someone who destroys it. That is important in this dark time when the church doesn't look all that different than the world.

 

Hebrews calls the church a peculiar people, maybe the state of the church is that we are afraid to be peculiar even though peculiar means se are loving, kind, patient, forgiving, and growing in holiness, grace, and truth. Even though it means we are living beyond our fear and are a part of God's plan of redemption. Come to think of it, peculiar doesn't look so bad. So, in the face of the many choices I face ever day, the question I must ask myself daily, is "Who is it you fear?"