Sometimes I click on links to watch clips of teachers I admire. And sometimes those links lead me to other links of people I've not listened to before. It was in that manner I stumbled on a clip of a talk given by Abi Stumvoll titled, "Words God Never Says to Us." That clip brought back so many memories of the struggle I had with learning to fully trust God. Over the next few weeks I will be writing about words I believed God said, but were words God never spoke. Today I am going to talk about the words, "Be Good and I will Bless You," and "Be Good and I will Love You."
Some of the struggle I've had over the years with trust issues came from not growing up in a church-attending family. We didn't discuss sermons over Sunday dinner and my childish misinterpretations of what I heard went unchecked, leaving me to create my own system of theology and what a sick, shaming system it became. We also didn't discuss the Bible as a family. So, when I was reading it on my own, I didn't always interpret it correctly; I interpreted it through a distorted view of God in which I viewed Him as distant, angry, and impossible to please.
Because we didn't discuss Bible things at home, I often asked Sunday School teachers questions. Most of the time it was okay. However, I remember one Sunday close to Christmas they brought several classes together and we had a male teacher I didn't know. He talked about the virgin Mary in his Christmas story presentation. So, I asked him what a virgin was. A hush fell over the room and even as a ten year old I could sense his discomfort and his struggle to find words to answer my question. After a few moments he gave a short answer, leaving no room for followup questions. "It means Mary was a good girl."
In my fifth grade mind, those words took on a life of their own. I interpreted them to indicate God must have said, either directly or indirectly, "Be good and I will bless you, be bad and I won't," which lead to, "Be good and I will love you and be bad and I won't" Those words became a part of my system of theology. Sadly, the statements ended up coloring my view of God and left me with an unsettling fear--a fear that made me want to believe in Him, a fear because I did believe in such a scary God, and a fear that I would never be good enough for Him to love. This belief impacted how I interpreted so many other things as you will see over the next few weeks.
In his discomfort, the man missed the opportunity to teach the doctrine of the Virgin Birth so crucial to embracing the truth of Jesus as both God and man. I know the man knew nothing about the little girl sitting in his class--the little girl struggling to make sense of the Christian life she knew God called her to live. He knew nothing about the little girl believing she was bad to the core of her being, longing to be good. He knew nothing about her believing God might never love a girl as bad as her desperately longing for His love. He knew nothing about her view of God and herself being skewed when someone had taken advantage of her when she was 4. He never knew his words contributed to the strengthening of her false belief that something bad in her invited abuse and something bad in her kept God from protecting her. Nor, did the man know his answer contributed to a long struggle with perfectionism--perfectionism developed to overcome obvious her many flaws, the badness she believed resided deep inside, besetting sin with which she struggled, and an attempt to become lovable.
But, God! God cares about people! And God cared about the young woman I grew up to be--a woman still struggling with a skewed view of God, deeply yearning to know Him and to be loved by Him. And after I was married, He took us to a place I claimed I would never go--a place I went, silently protesting in my heart. A place where I sat under a Bible teacher who taught his congregation to be Bereans, testing what they were taught with the Word of God. A place that was safe enough to ask all the questions with which I struggled and where the pastor was humble enough to not be bothered by questions. A place where the pastor and teachers never offered quick or flippant answers.
There I asked questions to my heart's content. And when I asked, he always pulled out His Bible instead of talking off the top of his head. As we poured over Scriptures, he always showed me the process that lead him to believe truth he taught. A part of that truth included teaching on the sin nature with which some people have a hard time. But for this girl who had been viewing the sin nature as a core of bad that only I possessed, it was good news.
Through my conversations with him and with many other members of that precious church I began to grow. For the first time, I had the opportunity to discuss sermons over Sunday meals, and I began to see God differently. He no longer seemed distant, angry, and impossible to please. He was and is a relational God, loving with a love so radical it's unfathomable! I came to understand God had never said I had to be perfect to be loved by Him. The truth was that He had already demonstrated His love when I was yet deep in sin! He proved His love by sending His Son to take on my sin in His body and die in my place and then He rose again proving His payment was satisfactory. Then when I trusted Him, He imputed Jesus' righteousness to me--righteousness I could never achieve, righteousness that graciously reconciled me to Him, making it possible to approach Him as a beloved child, forever crying, " Abba!" Abba--such a intimate term--like Papa in our culture.
Overtime, I came to understand God had always loved me. He loved me in my most imperfect state. He loved me when my theology was based on misconceptions. He loved me when I messed up and sinned against Him. He loved me when others hurt me. He even loved me enough to pour out His blessings on me--blessings I couldn't earn, didn't deserve, and didn't always recognize at the time. Like the blessing of being taken across the country under silent protest to a little community with a small church with a great big heart and a Bible teaching pastor with a deep southern accent and a congregation full of people loving Jesus and loving God's Word so much, it was a part of everyday conversation. And those conversations were used by God to satisfy the deep thirst in my soul to know God and to be known by Him. It was in that knowing that I was set free from the false words I once believed were His, but were, in truth, words God had never spoke!
Friday, September 30, 2016
Thursday, September 22, 2016
Is Noise Killing our Relationships?
I've come to realize we live in a noisy world. When I actually listen, I hear the constant flow of traffic interlaced with sirens and an occasional speeder with revving engine and screeching tires. I also hear rumblings of distant trains, planes flying overhead, and lawn mowers. I hear the noise of concrete being both torn out and concrete being poured as streets are repaired. There's the sounds of a neighbor blasting two kinds of music at the same time with windows wide open--music that rattles windows and vibrates walls and causes hearts to thump. There is also the fun sounds of dogs playing, birds chirping, school bells ringing, and kids playing. There is other kinds of noise. I don't mean noise in the normal sense, I mean constant stimuli through TV, radio, social media, internet, video games, and printers running, computers humming, and telephones that clang, ding, and sing their various notifications.
Ironically, I've realized I have felt a bit disconnected from both God and from people. At first I dismissed this feeling of disconnection, after all don't I live in one of the most connected societies of all times? All I have to do is pick up a tablet, look at Facebook, read emails, or text and I am instantly connected. But, I am reminded that only 7 percent of what we comprehend in communication is through spoken words, the other 97% comes through body language, facial expressions, and the tone and inflections of voices. While I enjoy reading the words of encouraging friends, I realize that at times it is more satisfying to chat face-to-face, sharing at a heart level, laughing until the belly hurts, and crying until the tears are spent.
I've also get lost in reading negative comments, hateful posts, inflammatory accusations over social issues and elections, finding myself in a world of frustration, anger, hurt, or anxiety over words written by people I don't even know. At times I may need to be jolted out of complacency and comfort, but to be honest there are times I've spent so much time and emotional energy on social media that when my husband comes home or my kids stop by, I am too exhausted to stay present, to actively listen, to engage in conversation, or to encourage them.
I need to put some balance back in my life. I love social media and its pictures of friends and families near and far. I love the precious words posted by loved ones that gives me insight into how they think, feel, and dream. However, I need to guard against obsessively checking social media and allow ample time for eye-to-eye contact with the humans standing in front of me. I need to guard my heart against the hateful rambling of people hiding behind anonymity, choosing not to read the posts of those who rage when others own different opinions and perspectives on life, politics, and religion. I also want to guard my heart when other people's passions turn into a defensive posture looking for a fight, spewing harsh accusations and hate speech, encourage violence, or try to hold me responsible for the sins of others. I've realized the number of contradictory posts also create unneeded anxiety for this heart that desires to know truth.
Face-to-face interactions are beneficial because as we gaze into the eyes of another we can't forget they are a person with feelings and a complex intellect instead of seeing them only through a single post with which we may or may not agree. Face-to-face allows us to express concern, empathy, and care through body language and to see those same things in the eyes of another. That is where the connections of the heart--the connections that can satisfy this deep soul thirst with which we were born.
Sensory overload has also impacted my relationship with God. When I had five little kids in the home, I got up early when the house was quiet and had my coffee with God. I would read His Word, and then walk as I listened to praise music. On my walk I would pray about what I had read and share the deepest things of my heart with God and ask Him questions and sometimes just listen for His voice in my heart. I remember that time period as one in which I was very connected to God and growing in both knowledge of Him and understanding of His grace. The desire of my heart at that time was to learn to love well, to overcome the judgments I had used as self protection, and to be a giver of lavish grace.
Last week a conference speaker referenced 1 Kings 19, which is the story of Elijah, the prophet who was in his own words, "...jealous for the LORD, the God of hosts. For the people of Israel have forsaken your covenant, thrown down your altars, and killed your prophets with the sword, and I, even I only, am left, and they seek my life to take it away." Elijah was suffering from the depression of let down that sometimes comes upon people fighting great spiritual battles. He longed for Israel to come back to the LORD and he is fearing His life because Israel is on a sinful path and killing God's prophets.
In the middle of Elijah's messy feelings, God instructed him to go and stand on the mountain before Him. The LORD passed by, "and a great and strong wind tore the mountains and broke in pieces the rocks before the Lord, but the LORD was not in the wind. And after the wind an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake. And after the earthquake a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire. And after the fire the sound of a low whisper." When Elijah heard the whisper he covered his face, because he recognized it as the voice of the LORD.
I realize I don't often allow myself to sit quietly to hear His whispering voice. It is drowned out by the constant "noise" around me. There were times I put on noise to keep the negative, fearful thoughts at bay. But the way to intimacy and closeness was to sit quietly and let the thoughts surface--yes, the thoughts so sinful I was ashamed, the thoughts seeped in unbelief that I don't want to admit were there, the thoughts selfish, unloving, and unbecoming a woman of God that caused me to cringe when they bubbled up. But it was that uncomfortable bubbling that allowed me to acknowledge and confessed them, which in turn shattered the barrier of pretense that stood between me and the God I wanted to know. Dissolving pretense melted the shame of not being who I wanted to be, allowing me to bask in a love steeped with grace.
Our relationship with God, like any other relationship, is nurtured through quiet moments of transparent sharing, confession, adoration, and a willingness to just sit and listen with one's heart. If we aren't careful, the ''noise" will kill even the desire to relate in person, leaving us sorely dissatisfied with what the media gives. Is the noise and constant stimulation impacting your relationships as it is mine?
I am committed to bringing more balance to my life so the "noise" can't drown out the still small voice of the LORD--the very voice that I long most to hear. Oh, how I long to be to the place that when I let my mind wander in the quiet, it consistently finds its way to God.
Ironically, I've realized I have felt a bit disconnected from both God and from people. At first I dismissed this feeling of disconnection, after all don't I live in one of the most connected societies of all times? All I have to do is pick up a tablet, look at Facebook, read emails, or text and I am instantly connected. But, I am reminded that only 7 percent of what we comprehend in communication is through spoken words, the other 97% comes through body language, facial expressions, and the tone and inflections of voices. While I enjoy reading the words of encouraging friends, I realize that at times it is more satisfying to chat face-to-face, sharing at a heart level, laughing until the belly hurts, and crying until the tears are spent.
I've also get lost in reading negative comments, hateful posts, inflammatory accusations over social issues and elections, finding myself in a world of frustration, anger, hurt, or anxiety over words written by people I don't even know. At times I may need to be jolted out of complacency and comfort, but to be honest there are times I've spent so much time and emotional energy on social media that when my husband comes home or my kids stop by, I am too exhausted to stay present, to actively listen, to engage in conversation, or to encourage them.
I need to put some balance back in my life. I love social media and its pictures of friends and families near and far. I love the precious words posted by loved ones that gives me insight into how they think, feel, and dream. However, I need to guard against obsessively checking social media and allow ample time for eye-to-eye contact with the humans standing in front of me. I need to guard my heart against the hateful rambling of people hiding behind anonymity, choosing not to read the posts of those who rage when others own different opinions and perspectives on life, politics, and religion. I also want to guard my heart when other people's passions turn into a defensive posture looking for a fight, spewing harsh accusations and hate speech, encourage violence, or try to hold me responsible for the sins of others. I've realized the number of contradictory posts also create unneeded anxiety for this heart that desires to know truth.
Face-to-face interactions are beneficial because as we gaze into the eyes of another we can't forget they are a person with feelings and a complex intellect instead of seeing them only through a single post with which we may or may not agree. Face-to-face allows us to express concern, empathy, and care through body language and to see those same things in the eyes of another. That is where the connections of the heart--the connections that can satisfy this deep soul thirst with which we were born.
Sensory overload has also impacted my relationship with God. When I had five little kids in the home, I got up early when the house was quiet and had my coffee with God. I would read His Word, and then walk as I listened to praise music. On my walk I would pray about what I had read and share the deepest things of my heart with God and ask Him questions and sometimes just listen for His voice in my heart. I remember that time period as one in which I was very connected to God and growing in both knowledge of Him and understanding of His grace. The desire of my heart at that time was to learn to love well, to overcome the judgments I had used as self protection, and to be a giver of lavish grace.
Last week a conference speaker referenced 1 Kings 19, which is the story of Elijah, the prophet who was in his own words, "...jealous for the LORD, the God of hosts. For the people of Israel have forsaken your covenant, thrown down your altars, and killed your prophets with the sword, and I, even I only, am left, and they seek my life to take it away." Elijah was suffering from the depression of let down that sometimes comes upon people fighting great spiritual battles. He longed for Israel to come back to the LORD and he is fearing His life because Israel is on a sinful path and killing God's prophets.
In the middle of Elijah's messy feelings, God instructed him to go and stand on the mountain before Him. The LORD passed by, "and a great and strong wind tore the mountains and broke in pieces the rocks before the Lord, but the LORD was not in the wind. And after the wind an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake. And after the earthquake a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire. And after the fire the sound of a low whisper." When Elijah heard the whisper he covered his face, because he recognized it as the voice of the LORD.
I realize I don't often allow myself to sit quietly to hear His whispering voice. It is drowned out by the constant "noise" around me. There were times I put on noise to keep the negative, fearful thoughts at bay. But the way to intimacy and closeness was to sit quietly and let the thoughts surface--yes, the thoughts so sinful I was ashamed, the thoughts seeped in unbelief that I don't want to admit were there, the thoughts selfish, unloving, and unbecoming a woman of God that caused me to cringe when they bubbled up. But it was that uncomfortable bubbling that allowed me to acknowledge and confessed them, which in turn shattered the barrier of pretense that stood between me and the God I wanted to know. Dissolving pretense melted the shame of not being who I wanted to be, allowing me to bask in a love steeped with grace.
Our relationship with God, like any other relationship, is nurtured through quiet moments of transparent sharing, confession, adoration, and a willingness to just sit and listen with one's heart. If we aren't careful, the ''noise" will kill even the desire to relate in person, leaving us sorely dissatisfied with what the media gives. Is the noise and constant stimulation impacting your relationships as it is mine?
I am committed to bringing more balance to my life so the "noise" can't drown out the still small voice of the LORD--the very voice that I long most to hear. Oh, how I long to be to the place that when I let my mind wander in the quiet, it consistently finds its way to God.
Wednesday, September 7, 2016
Finding Purpose in Pain
I was an adult when I realized there is purpose in pain. I first noticed it in the physical realm when one of our little ones had an ear infection. I picked him up from the church nursery and he was his usual cheerful self. But, then I noticed this ugly mess oozing from his ear. The doctor said the membrane holding his ear drum had ruptured and the infection was oozing from behind it. I told her I didn't even realize he was in pain and she said she believed me because his other ear was ready to rupture and most kids with ears like his were screaming in pain. Yet, he acted like he wasn't experiencing pain. I realized then that physical pain could be good. It can signal an infection or a wound that needs treatment. The pain of a slight cut can keep us from slicing off a whole finger and an irritated eye can keep us from permanently damaging a cornea.
Over time I also came to realize emotional pain can also be good. I went through several years of recovery work for an eating disorder and during that time I visited many painful memories. As I journaled letters to God about pain uncovered, I realized the same God who had allowed the deep pain was the same God who was loving me with a love deep enough to heal it. I also learned a lot about my heart and my sin and my God in that place. Since that time I've reread many stories in the Bible and become more aware of the painful places in which the people lived and the began to look for His purpose in the pain they experienced.
For example, There was Sarai and Abram who suffered the heart-wrenching pain of infertility while living in the midst of a pagan culture that worshiped false gods of fertility. Even after God called them out and promised them a son, they lived with their pain of longing--longing so painful they devised plans to help God fulfill His promise. But God had them live in their place of longing until they fully believed God was who He said He was--the life-giving God, the Keeper of promises. At the right time God resurrected their aged bodies to conceive, carry, and nurse a tiny man child called, "Laughter." God wanted them to know Him and He wanted their hearts undivided. So, He had them sitting in the pain long enough for their unbelief buried deep to bubble up, allowing a firm belief to take root. He had them sit in the pain long enough that His power could be displayed, proving stone-cold idols don't give life--He does!
And there was the deceiver, Jacob, who had to flee after his deceiving enraged his brother. God said his brother would serve him and, like Abram, Jacob wanted to help God make it happen. He ended up in a painful place, working for seven years for a bride he loved only to have his father-in-law give him a taste of deceit by substituting his older daughter as a bride. So, Jacob worked another seven years for the daughter he loved and another six for a flock to call his own while he lived in the messiness of a two wife family. The deceit he experienced was a mirror of his own deceitfulness, revealing to him the pain he inflicted on his brother. God let Jacob sit in that painful place, dealing with a difficult person to show him something about his sin and his heart and to prepare him for the long journey home. His painful place was not proof of God's desertion, it was proof of His love. God wanted him to experience the beauty that comes with humility. He wanted him to draw near to Him in faith, see that God could fulfill His Words without his help. God is good and it is His goodness that led Jacob to repent and in this case the goodness that would draw Jacob to His heart and the center of His will came in the form of the discomfort of seeing his sin mirrored.
And there was a lady I've come to love--the precious Samaritan lady Jesus met at the well. She was living in a pain-filled place, having been married five times and having each marriage end as she was dragged to the middle of town and declared unfit. Five times she'd been crushed by rejection and five times publicly labeled "not good enough." She'd was unable to live down her reputation and her loneliness ran deep, being ostracized by a community who judged her and made her the focus of gossip to deflect from shortcomings of their own. But Jesus sought her out at the right time when she was at the end of herself and the pain of her unmet needs ran so deep that she knew He and only He could meet her there.
I am thankful the Bible is honest about the stories people lived, especially the painful places in which they landed. The enemy wants us to believe pain is proof that God doesn't care. But, His Word shows repeatedly He sees us and He walks with us us through those tough places. He witnesses every tear spilled and every tear choked back. He's listening to every word cried out and every silent prayer our hearts can't find words to express. It is His goodness that allows us to come and to sit in the painful places--
--places designed to expose unbelief and mature faith
--places designed to allow His character and power to shine
--places designed to expose and excise sin
--places designed to bring us to the end of ourselves
--places designed to surface longings etched deeply in hearts by God
--places designed to show us the purpose of our pain
--places designed to draw us to the center of His will and His heart.
Maybe one of the reasons God chose not to remove pain from this life is so that you and I can understand the love of God through the pain of the cross. It was at Calvary that Christ was beaten for us. It was at Calvary that He bore the shame for the sin we commit and the pain that that sin inflicts on Him and others. It was at Calvary that Christ died so that He could exchange our filthy rags for His righteousness. God is the author of redemption stories, not fairy tales. Every redemption story leads us back to Christ, where we have the joy of finding purpose in pain.
Over time I also came to realize emotional pain can also be good. I went through several years of recovery work for an eating disorder and during that time I visited many painful memories. As I journaled letters to God about pain uncovered, I realized the same God who had allowed the deep pain was the same God who was loving me with a love deep enough to heal it. I also learned a lot about my heart and my sin and my God in that place. Since that time I've reread many stories in the Bible and become more aware of the painful places in which the people lived and the began to look for His purpose in the pain they experienced.
For example, There was Sarai and Abram who suffered the heart-wrenching pain of infertility while living in the midst of a pagan culture that worshiped false gods of fertility. Even after God called them out and promised them a son, they lived with their pain of longing--longing so painful they devised plans to help God fulfill His promise. But God had them live in their place of longing until they fully believed God was who He said He was--the life-giving God, the Keeper of promises. At the right time God resurrected their aged bodies to conceive, carry, and nurse a tiny man child called, "Laughter." God wanted them to know Him and He wanted their hearts undivided. So, He had them sitting in the pain long enough for their unbelief buried deep to bubble up, allowing a firm belief to take root. He had them sit in the pain long enough that His power could be displayed, proving stone-cold idols don't give life--He does!
And there was the deceiver, Jacob, who had to flee after his deceiving enraged his brother. God said his brother would serve him and, like Abram, Jacob wanted to help God make it happen. He ended up in a painful place, working for seven years for a bride he loved only to have his father-in-law give him a taste of deceit by substituting his older daughter as a bride. So, Jacob worked another seven years for the daughter he loved and another six for a flock to call his own while he lived in the messiness of a two wife family. The deceit he experienced was a mirror of his own deceitfulness, revealing to him the pain he inflicted on his brother. God let Jacob sit in that painful place, dealing with a difficult person to show him something about his sin and his heart and to prepare him for the long journey home. His painful place was not proof of God's desertion, it was proof of His love. God wanted him to experience the beauty that comes with humility. He wanted him to draw near to Him in faith, see that God could fulfill His Words without his help. God is good and it is His goodness that led Jacob to repent and in this case the goodness that would draw Jacob to His heart and the center of His will came in the form of the discomfort of seeing his sin mirrored.
And there was a lady I've come to love--the precious Samaritan lady Jesus met at the well. She was living in a pain-filled place, having been married five times and having each marriage end as she was dragged to the middle of town and declared unfit. Five times she'd been crushed by rejection and five times publicly labeled "not good enough." She'd was unable to live down her reputation and her loneliness ran deep, being ostracized by a community who judged her and made her the focus of gossip to deflect from shortcomings of their own. But Jesus sought her out at the right time when she was at the end of herself and the pain of her unmet needs ran so deep that she knew He and only He could meet her there.
I am thankful the Bible is honest about the stories people lived, especially the painful places in which they landed. The enemy wants us to believe pain is proof that God doesn't care. But, His Word shows repeatedly He sees us and He walks with us us through those tough places. He witnesses every tear spilled and every tear choked back. He's listening to every word cried out and every silent prayer our hearts can't find words to express. It is His goodness that allows us to come and to sit in the painful places--
--places designed to expose unbelief and mature faith
--places designed to allow His character and power to shine
--places designed to expose and excise sin
--places designed to bring us to the end of ourselves
--places designed to surface longings etched deeply in hearts by God
--places designed to show us the purpose of our pain
--places designed to draw us to the center of His will and His heart.
Maybe one of the reasons God chose not to remove pain from this life is so that you and I can understand the love of God through the pain of the cross. It was at Calvary that Christ was beaten for us. It was at Calvary that He bore the shame for the sin we commit and the pain that that sin inflicts on Him and others. It was at Calvary that Christ died so that He could exchange our filthy rags for His righteousness. God is the author of redemption stories, not fairy tales. Every redemption story leads us back to Christ, where we have the joy of finding purpose in pain.
Tuesday, August 23, 2016
The Tendency to Judge
One of the concepts in Scripture with which I have wrestled long and hard is the concept of judging. It is something we all do whether we admit it or not. We judge one product as being better than another. This kind of judgment can be beneficial and create accountability for companies to offer better products. As a boss we may judge one person as better than another when we compare the way they do their jobs. That can help a boss make decisions on who to promote or to hire the best person for a job. After all, what boss wouldn't wants to hire a person who demonstrates good performance, a strong work ethic, and a willingness to learn new things to help a company grow? We, as consumers, may also judge professionals. For example we may judge one doctor as better than another because he listens to his patients, is considerate of their time, and continuously makes wise decisions for them. We may judge others' words as either helpful and uplifting or as wounding and soul-crushing. These kinds of judgments help us foster relationships with those who are more nurturing and less apt to continuously hurt us. We may judge the actions of others and even ourselves as either good or bad. These kinds of judgments can be useful when they are aligned with Scripture to help us to choose not to sin.
There are judgments that are not godly. John 7:24 says, "Do not judge by appearances, judge with right judgment." The judgments that are not godly are many. This can apply to how we look at situations, events, people, ourselves, and our relationships. We might judge a circumstance as bad, when really it is orchestrated by God; designed to mature us. Some judgments become ungodly when we choose to judge someone's heart and not value them as an image bearer because of external things we see--things like skin color, educational level, the part of town in which a person lives, a person's dress, they way they speak, the way they act, their religion or lack there of, or their denomination. Many of us even harshly judge ourselves.
I confess I have been one who judged other people and myself without even realizing it. I had to become more mindful of what was going on inside of me to realize I did it. I think the concept of judging first came up in a counselor's office when I expressed the anger and hurt I had been stuffing for years. In the beginning most of the anger and judgments were turned inward, judging myself so harshly that I silently screamed hateful names at myself--names I would never say to someone else--names that crushed my spirit far more than any other person had. I didn't like who I'd become. I didn't like how I related to others. And I hated myself because I couldn't change faster. I hated me for not being the perfect me I always envisioned me to be.
A few years ago I broke my knee and spent the night on a gurney in the emergency room. They were busy and didn't have a room for me so my gurney was pushed up against the wall between two doors. Late in the night my exhausted husband leaned his head against the gurney and nodded off. I couldn't sleep and it seemed like every nurse who entered one of the rooms near by bumped the gurney, increasing my pain. When my husband woke up, I told him I didn't understand how he could sleep with them bumping the gurney so hard. He looked puzzled and said he hadn't noticed them bumping it. I realized it was because I was already in pain that the bumps and brushes seemed bigger than they were.
I also realized the way I perceived life, how much pain I emotionally experienced in the present, and how I related were greatly impacted by emotional wounds from my past that had never healed. We all get knocked around. Some are fortunate and able to express pain, have it acknowledged by others, and healed. But for many their emotional pain gets stuffed and remains unhealed, impacting them in such away they either overreact or under react to each new 'bump" experienced in the same way my husband and I perceived and reacted differently to the bumps experienced in the ER.
As I faced past pain, I was able to grieve what I'd never grieved before--broken relationships, wounding actions of others, losses incurred through death, hurtful words that shaped my view of me, and the losses incurred as a result of an isolating eating disorder. I realized I'd dealt with life by denying the story I lived—the very story authored by God. As I began to come out of denial and accept the story God was writing, I learned to grieve and let go of pain of the past. It gave me insight as to why I reacted to life, people, God, and myself as I did. As I healed, I accepted myself without judgment and looked at myself with curiosity, allowing me to face sin graciously and grow faster than I did when I heaped harsh judgments on myself. Understanding myself helped me see why I have made choices I made, said the things I said, and did the things I did—the good, the bad, and the down right ugly. It, helped me reach a point I was able to be gracious to myself and as I’ve gained more compassion for myself, I dwelt less on my sin. When I gave up the self-contempt and confessed sin I was able to let go of shame and move past it more quickly. As I grieved and let go of emotional pain, I found the hurts of today more bearable.
I also realized I was often confused by the way people acted or reacted. After being bumped on that gurney, I realize I didn’t understand because I didn’t know their stories. I didn't know the traumas they had endured that had shaped their view of themselves, others, God, and life. I didn't know the resources and support they had or didn't have to help them recover. I didn’t know about the biting words they heard that crushed their spirits and deflated their hope of being who God created them to be. I didn't know the history behind the different relationships they had that from the outside looked great, but grieved their hearts deeply. I didn't know about the losses they experienced and never grieved that created a relational starvation a long with an enormous fear of abandonment keeps them from what their heart desires.
The sense of curiosity I've gained from counseling enabled me to not only be able to look at myself with curiosity, it enabled me to look at others with it, too. I want to know what makes them laugh, cry, cringe, scream, become angry, and love instead of assuming they are “crazy,” “immature,” or “bad.” I want to know how they view their Creator and what it would take for them to trust Him with their whole being. I'm less apt to judge their worth from the external and more apt to ask about their stories enabling me to learn what drives their decision making, their actions and their reactions, and what triggers their defenses or lowers them enough to allow one to peek inside.
Letting go of wrong judgments enables me to love more like Jesus loved. It enables me to speak the truth more gently. It enables me to point someone toward a godlier path without triggering shame that could deepen the wounds their bear. I am much more apt to listen to someone's pain than to hand them empty platitudes that falsely imply they are less spiritual for struggling.
Most importantly, I am honored when someone shares their story with me. Instead of judging them for how they have lived their story, I find myself thanking God that He has allowed me to be given the sacred trust of listening as I ask Him to give me the discernment to know when to be silent, when to speak, and what words would be honey to their wounded heart. Hopefully, God will continue to remind me that He is the only just judge and use me to encourage others when they need hope the most.
There are judgments that are not godly. John 7:24 says, "Do not judge by appearances, judge with right judgment." The judgments that are not godly are many. This can apply to how we look at situations, events, people, ourselves, and our relationships. We might judge a circumstance as bad, when really it is orchestrated by God; designed to mature us. Some judgments become ungodly when we choose to judge someone's heart and not value them as an image bearer because of external things we see--things like skin color, educational level, the part of town in which a person lives, a person's dress, they way they speak, the way they act, their religion or lack there of, or their denomination. Many of us even harshly judge ourselves.
I confess I have been one who judged other people and myself without even realizing it. I had to become more mindful of what was going on inside of me to realize I did it. I think the concept of judging first came up in a counselor's office when I expressed the anger and hurt I had been stuffing for years. In the beginning most of the anger and judgments were turned inward, judging myself so harshly that I silently screamed hateful names at myself--names I would never say to someone else--names that crushed my spirit far more than any other person had. I didn't like who I'd become. I didn't like how I related to others. And I hated myself because I couldn't change faster. I hated me for not being the perfect me I always envisioned me to be.
A few years ago I broke my knee and spent the night on a gurney in the emergency room. They were busy and didn't have a room for me so my gurney was pushed up against the wall between two doors. Late in the night my exhausted husband leaned his head against the gurney and nodded off. I couldn't sleep and it seemed like every nurse who entered one of the rooms near by bumped the gurney, increasing my pain. When my husband woke up, I told him I didn't understand how he could sleep with them bumping the gurney so hard. He looked puzzled and said he hadn't noticed them bumping it. I realized it was because I was already in pain that the bumps and brushes seemed bigger than they were.
I also realized the way I perceived life, how much pain I emotionally experienced in the present, and how I related were greatly impacted by emotional wounds from my past that had never healed. We all get knocked around. Some are fortunate and able to express pain, have it acknowledged by others, and healed. But for many their emotional pain gets stuffed and remains unhealed, impacting them in such away they either overreact or under react to each new 'bump" experienced in the same way my husband and I perceived and reacted differently to the bumps experienced in the ER.
As I faced past pain, I was able to grieve what I'd never grieved before--broken relationships, wounding actions of others, losses incurred through death, hurtful words that shaped my view of me, and the losses incurred as a result of an isolating eating disorder. I realized I'd dealt with life by denying the story I lived—the very story authored by God. As I began to come out of denial and accept the story God was writing, I learned to grieve and let go of pain of the past. It gave me insight as to why I reacted to life, people, God, and myself as I did. As I healed, I accepted myself without judgment and looked at myself with curiosity, allowing me to face sin graciously and grow faster than I did when I heaped harsh judgments on myself. Understanding myself helped me see why I have made choices I made, said the things I said, and did the things I did—the good, the bad, and the down right ugly. It, helped me reach a point I was able to be gracious to myself and as I’ve gained more compassion for myself, I dwelt less on my sin. When I gave up the self-contempt and confessed sin I was able to let go of shame and move past it more quickly. As I grieved and let go of emotional pain, I found the hurts of today more bearable.
I also realized I was often confused by the way people acted or reacted. After being bumped on that gurney, I realize I didn’t understand because I didn’t know their stories. I didn't know the traumas they had endured that had shaped their view of themselves, others, God, and life. I didn't know the resources and support they had or didn't have to help them recover. I didn’t know about the biting words they heard that crushed their spirits and deflated their hope of being who God created them to be. I didn't know the history behind the different relationships they had that from the outside looked great, but grieved their hearts deeply. I didn't know about the losses they experienced and never grieved that created a relational starvation a long with an enormous fear of abandonment keeps them from what their heart desires.
The sense of curiosity I've gained from counseling enabled me to not only be able to look at myself with curiosity, it enabled me to look at others with it, too. I want to know what makes them laugh, cry, cringe, scream, become angry, and love instead of assuming they are “crazy,” “immature,” or “bad.” I want to know how they view their Creator and what it would take for them to trust Him with their whole being. I'm less apt to judge their worth from the external and more apt to ask about their stories enabling me to learn what drives their decision making, their actions and their reactions, and what triggers their defenses or lowers them enough to allow one to peek inside.
Letting go of wrong judgments enables me to love more like Jesus loved. It enables me to speak the truth more gently. It enables me to point someone toward a godlier path without triggering shame that could deepen the wounds their bear. I am much more apt to listen to someone's pain than to hand them empty platitudes that falsely imply they are less spiritual for struggling.
Most importantly, I am honored when someone shares their story with me. Instead of judging them for how they have lived their story, I find myself thanking God that He has allowed me to be given the sacred trust of listening as I ask Him to give me the discernment to know when to be silent, when to speak, and what words would be honey to their wounded heart. Hopefully, God will continue to remind me that He is the only just judge and use me to encourage others when they need hope the most.
The Tendency to Judge
One of the concepts in Scripture with which I have wrestled long and hard is the concept of judging. It is something we all do whether we admit it or not. We judge one product as being better than another. This kind of judgment can be beneficial and create accountability for companies to offer better products. As a boss we may judge one person as better than another when we compare the way they do their jobs. That can help a boss make decisions on who to promote or to hire the best person for a job. After all, what boss wouldn't wants to hire a person who demonstrates good performance, a strong work ethic, and a willingness to learn new things to help a company grow? We, as consumers, may also judge professionals. For example we may judge one doctor as better than another because he listens to his patients, is considerate of their time, and continuously makes wise decisions for them. We may judge others' words as either helpful and uplifting or as wounding and soul-crushing. These kinds of judgments help us foster relationships with those who are more nurturing and less apt to continuously hurt us. We may judge the actions of others and even ourselves as either good or bad. These kinds of judgments can be useful when they are aligned with Scripture to help us to choose not to sin.
There are judgments that are not godly. John 7:24 says, "Do not judge by appearances, judge with right judgment." The judgments that are not godly are many. This can apply to how we look at situations, events, people, ourselves, and our relationships. We might judge a circumstance as bad, when really it is orchestrated by God; designed to mature us. Some judgments become ungodly when we choose to judge someone's heart and not value them as an image bearer because of external things we see--things like skin color, educational level, the part of town in which a person lives, a person's dress, they way they speak, the way they act, their religion or lack there of, or their denomination. Many of us even harshly judge ourselves.
I confess I have been one who judged other people and myself without even realizing it. I had to become more mindful of what was going on inside of me to realize I did it. I think the concept of judging first came up in a counselor's office when I expressed the anger and hurt I had been stuffing for years. In the beginning most of the anger and judgments were turned inward, judging myself so harshly that I silently screamed hateful names at myself--names I would never say to someone else--names that crushed my spirit far more than any other person had. I didn't like who I'd become. I didn't like how I related to others. And I hated myself because I couldn't change faster. I hated me for not being the perfect me I always envisioned me to be.
A few years ago I broke my knee and spent the night on a gurney in the emergency room. They were busy and didn't have a room for me so my gurney was pushed up against the wall between two doors. Late in the night my exhausted husband leaned his head against the gurney and nodded off. I couldn't sleep and it seemed like every nurse who entered one of the rooms near by bumped the gurney, increasing my pain. When my husband woke up, I told him I didn't understand how he could sleep with them bumping the gurney so hard. He looked puzzled and said he hadn't noticed them bumping it. I realized it was because I was already in pain that the bumps and brushes seemed bigger than they were.
I also realized the way I perceived life, how much pain I emotionally experienced in the present, and how I related were greatly impacted by emotional wounds from my past that had never healed. We all get knocked around. Some are fortunate and able to express pain, have it acknowledged by others, and healed. But for many their emotional pain gets stuffed and remains unhealed, impacting them in such away they either overreact or under react to each new 'bump" experienced in the same way my husband and I perceived and reacted differently to the bumps experienced in the ER.
As I faced past pain, I was able to grieve what I'd never grieved before--broken relationships, wounding actions of others, losses incurred through death, hurtful words that shaped my view of me, and the losses incurred as a result of an isolating eating disorder. I realized I'd dealt with life by denying the story I lived—the very story authored by God. As I began to come out of denial and accept the story God was writing, I learned to grieve and let go of pain of the past. It gave me insight as to why I reacted to life, people, God, and myself as I did. As I healed, I accepted myself without judgment and looked at myself with curiosity, allowing me to face sin graciously and grow faster than I did when I heaped harsh judgments on myself. Understanding myself helped me see why I have made choices I made, said the things I said, and did the things I did—the good, the bad, and the down right ugly. It, helped me reach a point I was able to be gracious to myself and as I’ve gained more compassion for myself, I dwelt less on my sin. When I gave up the self-contempt and confessed sin I was able to let go of shame and move past it more quickly. As I grieved and let go of emotional pain, I found the hurts of today more bearable.
I also realized I was often confused by the way people acted or reacted. After being bumped on that gurney, I realize I didn’t understand because I didn’t know their stories. I didn't know the traumas they had endured that had shaped their view of themselves, others, God, and life. I didn't know the resources and support they had or didn't have to help them recover. I didn’t know about the biting words they heard that crushed their spirits and deflated their hope of being who God created them to be. I didn't know the history behind the different relationships they had that from the outside looked great, but grieved their hearts deeply. I didn't know about the losses they experienced and never grieved that created a relational starvation a long with an enormous fear of abandonment keeps them from what their heart desires.
The sense of curiosity I've gained from counseling enabled me to not only be able to look at myself with curiosity, it enabled me to look at others with it, too. I want to know what makes them laugh, cry, cringe, scream, become angry, and love instead of assuming they are “crazy,” “immature,” or “bad.” I want to know how they view their Creator and what it would take for them to trust Him with their whole being. I'm less apt to judge their worth from the external and more apt to ask about their stories enabling me to learn what drives their decision making, their actions and their reactions, and what triggers their defenses or lowers them enough to allow one to peek inside.
Letting go of wrong judgments enables me to love more like Jesus loved. It enables me to speak the truth more gently. It enables me to point someone toward a godlier path without triggering shame that could deepen the wounds their bear. I am much more apt to listen to someone's pain than to hand them empty platitudes that falsely imply they are less spiritual for struggling.
Most importantly, I am honored when someone shares their story with me. Instead of judging them for how they have lived their story, I find myself thanking God that He has allowed me to be given the sacred trust of listening as I ask Him to give me the discernment to know when to be silent, when to speak, and what words would be honey to their wounded heart. Hopefully, God will continue to remind me that He is the only just judge and use me to encourage others when they need hope the most.
There are judgments that are not godly. John 7:24 says, "Do not judge by appearances, judge with right judgment." The judgments that are not godly are many. This can apply to how we look at situations, events, people, ourselves, and our relationships. We might judge a circumstance as bad, when really it is orchestrated by God; designed to mature us. Some judgments become ungodly when we choose to judge someone's heart and not value them as an image bearer because of external things we see--things like skin color, educational level, the part of town in which a person lives, a person's dress, they way they speak, the way they act, their religion or lack there of, or their denomination. Many of us even harshly judge ourselves.
I confess I have been one who judged other people and myself without even realizing it. I had to become more mindful of what was going on inside of me to realize I did it. I think the concept of judging first came up in a counselor's office when I expressed the anger and hurt I had been stuffing for years. In the beginning most of the anger and judgments were turned inward, judging myself so harshly that I silently screamed hateful names at myself--names I would never say to someone else--names that crushed my spirit far more than any other person had. I didn't like who I'd become. I didn't like how I related to others. And I hated myself because I couldn't change faster. I hated me for not being the perfect me I always envisioned me to be.
A few years ago I broke my knee and spent the night on a gurney in the emergency room. They were busy and didn't have a room for me so my gurney was pushed up against the wall between two doors. Late in the night my exhausted husband leaned his head against the gurney and nodded off. I couldn't sleep and it seemed like every nurse who entered one of the rooms near by bumped the gurney, increasing my pain. When my husband woke up, I told him I didn't understand how he could sleep with them bumping the gurney so hard. He looked puzzled and said he hadn't noticed them bumping it. I realized it was because I was already in pain that the bumps and brushes seemed bigger than they were.
I also realized the way I perceived life, how much pain I emotionally experienced in the present, and how I related were greatly impacted by emotional wounds from my past that had never healed. We all get knocked around. Some are fortunate and able to express pain, have it acknowledged by others, and healed. But for many their emotional pain gets stuffed and remains unhealed, impacting them in such away they either overreact or under react to each new 'bump" experienced in the same way my husband and I perceived and reacted differently to the bumps experienced in the ER.
As I faced past pain, I was able to grieve what I'd never grieved before--broken relationships, wounding actions of others, losses incurred through death, hurtful words that shaped my view of me, and the losses incurred as a result of an isolating eating disorder. I realized I'd dealt with life by denying the story I lived—the very story authored by God. As I began to come out of denial and accept the story God was writing, I learned to grieve and let go of pain of the past. It gave me insight as to why I reacted to life, people, God, and myself as I did. As I healed, I accepted myself without judgment and looked at myself with curiosity, allowing me to face sin graciously and grow faster than I did when I heaped harsh judgments on myself. Understanding myself helped me see why I have made choices I made, said the things I said, and did the things I did—the good, the bad, and the down right ugly. It, helped me reach a point I was able to be gracious to myself and as I’ve gained more compassion for myself, I dwelt less on my sin. When I gave up the self-contempt and confessed sin I was able to let go of shame and move past it more quickly. As I grieved and let go of emotional pain, I found the hurts of today more bearable.
I also realized I was often confused by the way people acted or reacted. After being bumped on that gurney, I realize I didn’t understand because I didn’t know their stories. I didn't know the traumas they had endured that had shaped their view of themselves, others, God, and life. I didn't know the resources and support they had or didn't have to help them recover. I didn’t know about the biting words they heard that crushed their spirits and deflated their hope of being who God created them to be. I didn't know the history behind the different relationships they had that from the outside looked great, but grieved their hearts deeply. I didn't know about the losses they experienced and never grieved that created a relational starvation a long with an enormous fear of abandonment keeps them from what their heart desires.
The sense of curiosity I've gained from counseling enabled me to not only be able to look at myself with curiosity, it enabled me to look at others with it, too. I want to know what makes them laugh, cry, cringe, scream, become angry, and love instead of assuming they are “crazy,” “immature,” or “bad.” I want to know how they view their Creator and what it would take for them to trust Him with their whole being. I'm less apt to judge their worth from the external and more apt to ask about their stories enabling me to learn what drives their decision making, their actions and their reactions, and what triggers their defenses or lowers them enough to allow one to peek inside.
Letting go of wrong judgments enables me to love more like Jesus loved. It enables me to speak the truth more gently. It enables me to point someone toward a godlier path without triggering shame that could deepen the wounds their bear. I am much more apt to listen to someone's pain than to hand them empty platitudes that falsely imply they are less spiritual for struggling.
Most importantly, I am honored when someone shares their story with me. Instead of judging them for how they have lived their story, I find myself thanking God that He has allowed me to be given the sacred trust of listening as I ask Him to give me the discernment to know when to be silent, when to speak, and what words would be honey to their wounded heart. Hopefully, God will continue to remind me that He is the only just judge and use me to encourage others when they need hope the most.
Monday, August 15, 2016
A Dissatisfied Heart
Our church has started a series of sermons on the little, but important book of Haggai. Yesterday I could hear two sermons at one time--the one the pastor was speaking from the pulpit and the one being impressed on my heart by God through His Word.
Haggai was a prophet who lived during Darius' time and Israel was neglecting their responsibility of rebuilding the temple while building themselves luxurious homes. God told Haggai to tell them they were sowing much and harvesting little, eating a lot and never satisfied, clothing themselves and not warm, and gaining money that didn't last. It was like they were caught in this cycle of wanting more and never feeling satisfied, causing them to be so focused on themselves they neglected God's calling to rebuild. He also told them their struggle with dissatisfaction was caused by God's discipline on their lives. He tells them that because His house was still lying in ruins, though they sowed much the small harvest they experienced was due to the rains He withheld and the fruit of their labor that didn't go far was because He was blow it away.
I could relate to this passage on so many levels. There are times I have this deep seated dissatisfaction smoldering in my heart. It can be quite uncomfortable and I've tried many things to fill it. At times I thought a new house would fill it and it did. Temporarily! Then I wanted a house with a bigger kitchen, hardwood floors, or a swimming pool. There were times I believed a new car would satisfy my heart and it did. Temporarily! The satisfaction was short lived and I wanted a smaller car, then a bigger car, and now a sports car with a convertible top that I know would play havoc on these old dry eyes. There are times I've bought clothes, thinking I'd be more satisfied with my appearance only to glace in the glass doors at church and instantly want a different dress. Even food has exposed this dissatisfied heart of mine. Some nights I think I'm hungry and look for the food I'm craving. I grab it and eat it and realize it didn't satisfy. So I go back, look for something else, then something else after that. There were times, I even played with the idea that a different husband could make me happier.
When I look at the list, I realize not one of those things is bad. Each one of them brings some measure of pleasure and I don't think experiencing pleasure is sin or God would not have created me with a brain designed for pleasure. The problem is God created me with a heart designed to find its deepest satisfaction, fulfillment, pleasure, and joy in an intimate relationship with Him. When I neglect that relationship, my heart-hunger for God gets stirred and I tend to turn to the things that bring easy pleasure and find myself feeling more and more frustrated, looking for the one thing that satisfies.
But God--God knowing my heart was never designed to find deep soul satisfaction in a dwelling made with hands, in cute sports cars, in a new hair colors, in a new dresses, in different cookie flavors, or a different man has always intervened. He first intervened by inviting me into this loving relationship with Him by exposing my sin and my tendency to search for satisfaction apart from Him. Second, He' faithfully and graciously disciplines me when I begin to look for satisfaction apart from Him. As our pastor, Matt, said yesterday the discipline of God is a grace--a grace that prevents the sin in my heart from running rampant in my life. Without it, I would keep buying things that can't satisfy, I would be divorcing my eighth husband, I would be continually run from hard relationships instead of learning to love well, I would be looking for satisfaction in things, titles, jobs, and people that have no ability to satisfy the deepest desires written on my heart by the Creator, Himself.
Oh, there are signs I see, telling me I am going down the old path of dissatisfaction again. I find myself frequently window shopping for stuff not needed. I find myself thinking I'd be happier with________________. (You can fill in the blank!) I find myself going into the kitchen for the umpteenth time, stuffed but still looking for what can satisfy. I find myself living with an ungrateful heart, instead of thanking God for His gracious gifts. I find a slow burning anger dwelling within that comes from never feeling completely satisfied because I'm looking for satisfaction in what can't satisfy. These signs all tell me I've neglected my relationship with God. I've not spent time in His Word, not practiced His presence, not fostered a life of continual prayer, and not faithfully fulfilled the ministry to which He's called me.
So why do I tend to find myself dissatisfied? Sometimes I do it because my relationship with Him, like all relationships, takes time and effort and I tend to be a lazy soul. Sometimes I do it because I am selfish and I ten to want immediate gratification. Sometimes I do it because of unbelief and shame that causes me to forget God can and does use broken people like me who trust Him. Sometimes I do it because I don't want to face the pain I feel and obey God in confronting sin to stop the pain. Sometimes I do it because I don't want to face the discomfort of acknowledging sin to God and to others. Sometimes I do this because in the pursuit of pleasure and joy, I forget that the easy pleasures of this world are like a sugar high that feels good initially and then quickly drops me, leaving me more miserable than before.
But Grace! Grace is having a God who reminds me to "consider my ways!" Haggai (1:5) It is having a God that reminds me when I seek to fill myself apart from Him I will "never have my fill." (Haggai 1:5) Grace is having a God that wants me to experience true satisfaction that comes from intimacy with Him, loving others well, and doing what I was created to do--bring pleasure to His heart and glorify His name! (Haggai 1:8)
Haggai was a prophet who lived during Darius' time and Israel was neglecting their responsibility of rebuilding the temple while building themselves luxurious homes. God told Haggai to tell them they were sowing much and harvesting little, eating a lot and never satisfied, clothing themselves and not warm, and gaining money that didn't last. It was like they were caught in this cycle of wanting more and never feeling satisfied, causing them to be so focused on themselves they neglected God's calling to rebuild. He also told them their struggle with dissatisfaction was caused by God's discipline on their lives. He tells them that because His house was still lying in ruins, though they sowed much the small harvest they experienced was due to the rains He withheld and the fruit of their labor that didn't go far was because He was blow it away.
I could relate to this passage on so many levels. There are times I have this deep seated dissatisfaction smoldering in my heart. It can be quite uncomfortable and I've tried many things to fill it. At times I thought a new house would fill it and it did. Temporarily! Then I wanted a house with a bigger kitchen, hardwood floors, or a swimming pool. There were times I believed a new car would satisfy my heart and it did. Temporarily! The satisfaction was short lived and I wanted a smaller car, then a bigger car, and now a sports car with a convertible top that I know would play havoc on these old dry eyes. There are times I've bought clothes, thinking I'd be more satisfied with my appearance only to glace in the glass doors at church and instantly want a different dress. Even food has exposed this dissatisfied heart of mine. Some nights I think I'm hungry and look for the food I'm craving. I grab it and eat it and realize it didn't satisfy. So I go back, look for something else, then something else after that. There were times, I even played with the idea that a different husband could make me happier.
When I look at the list, I realize not one of those things is bad. Each one of them brings some measure of pleasure and I don't think experiencing pleasure is sin or God would not have created me with a brain designed for pleasure. The problem is God created me with a heart designed to find its deepest satisfaction, fulfillment, pleasure, and joy in an intimate relationship with Him. When I neglect that relationship, my heart-hunger for God gets stirred and I tend to turn to the things that bring easy pleasure and find myself feeling more and more frustrated, looking for the one thing that satisfies.
But God--God knowing my heart was never designed to find deep soul satisfaction in a dwelling made with hands, in cute sports cars, in a new hair colors, in a new dresses, in different cookie flavors, or a different man has always intervened. He first intervened by inviting me into this loving relationship with Him by exposing my sin and my tendency to search for satisfaction apart from Him. Second, He' faithfully and graciously disciplines me when I begin to look for satisfaction apart from Him. As our pastor, Matt, said yesterday the discipline of God is a grace--a grace that prevents the sin in my heart from running rampant in my life. Without it, I would keep buying things that can't satisfy, I would be divorcing my eighth husband, I would be continually run from hard relationships instead of learning to love well, I would be looking for satisfaction in things, titles, jobs, and people that have no ability to satisfy the deepest desires written on my heart by the Creator, Himself.
Oh, there are signs I see, telling me I am going down the old path of dissatisfaction again. I find myself frequently window shopping for stuff not needed. I find myself thinking I'd be happier with________________. (You can fill in the blank!) I find myself going into the kitchen for the umpteenth time, stuffed but still looking for what can satisfy. I find myself living with an ungrateful heart, instead of thanking God for His gracious gifts. I find a slow burning anger dwelling within that comes from never feeling completely satisfied because I'm looking for satisfaction in what can't satisfy. These signs all tell me I've neglected my relationship with God. I've not spent time in His Word, not practiced His presence, not fostered a life of continual prayer, and not faithfully fulfilled the ministry to which He's called me.
So why do I tend to find myself dissatisfied? Sometimes I do it because my relationship with Him, like all relationships, takes time and effort and I tend to be a lazy soul. Sometimes I do it because I am selfish and I ten to want immediate gratification. Sometimes I do it because of unbelief and shame that causes me to forget God can and does use broken people like me who trust Him. Sometimes I do it because I don't want to face the pain I feel and obey God in confronting sin to stop the pain. Sometimes I do it because I don't want to face the discomfort of acknowledging sin to God and to others. Sometimes I do this because in the pursuit of pleasure and joy, I forget that the easy pleasures of this world are like a sugar high that feels good initially and then quickly drops me, leaving me more miserable than before.
But Grace! Grace is having a God who reminds me to "consider my ways!" Haggai (1:5) It is having a God that reminds me when I seek to fill myself apart from Him I will "never have my fill." (Haggai 1:5) Grace is having a God that wants me to experience true satisfaction that comes from intimacy with Him, loving others well, and doing what I was created to do--bring pleasure to His heart and glorify His name! (Haggai 1:8)
Thursday, July 21, 2016
These Precarious Times
The last few weeks have been pretty unsettling. As I read articles, watched the news, and viewed the videos people that made to express their opinions and their rage, I searched for words to say. Over and over the word precarious came to mind, and to be honest I could use the word in a sentence, but I couldn't really concisely define it. So, I looked it up and google defines it as "not securely held or in position; dangerously likely to fall or collapse and the synonyms given were "uncertain, insecure, unpredictable, risky, hazardous, dangerous, unsafe, unsettled, unstable, unsteady, shaky." Yep, those words pretty much describe what this world feels like right now, especially from the view down here.
Cancer, diabetes, debilitating viruses, infections, and autoimmune diseases are making life tough for precious people and the medical system with delayed appointments, information and misinformation, and insurance battles add to the uncertainty people experience as they struggle with health issues.
PTSD, depression, anxiety, addiction, eating disorders and other mental illnesses rob people of peace, hope, and joy and a recent suicide left many of us wondering at what point her hope completely died and at what point did her ability to make choices that could lead to healing could no longer be made.
Family units, once haven's of stability, are radically changing as marriages break down due to long work hours that exhaust, isolate, and separate.
Marriages that were designed to be safe havens for two people doing life together crumble as porn allures men and women into false relationships with fake images that turn people into even more selfish, self -centered, demanding people instead of people trying to learn to love well as it normalizes the victimization of women and children and feeds the hatred of the rape culture.
And gender? It's now considered something to be assigned rather than Creator-designed. And marriage? Its been redefined to a contract between people rather than a life-long covenant between a man and a woman.
Terrorists attacks both here and abroad make this world scary; Places once dreamed about now seem less inviting. And, while I've thought the US to be a safe haven for people from all over, I am now finding myself fearfully contemplating the personal cost of welcoming the masses when the risk may be increased sexual violence of women and children as it was in Germany, increased risk of terrorists entering our country as it was in France and Turkey, and increased risk of the recruiting our own sons and daughters to do hateful deeds and even in just the writing of these things fear rises inside.
Mass shootings here at home make malls, theaters, schools, places of worship, and other places of social gatherings no longer feel safe, lending to the the break down of unity.
And gang violence, racial uprisings, and brutal attacks on our law enforcement have added to the insecurity felt as the ugly rhetoric on these things makes the stomach churn, especially when people evoke the name of Christ either verbally or through the jewelry they wear as they spout evil and hate, both so contrary to the character of the Savior.
I, like many others wonder how we are to live brave in a world that feels precarious and all I can do is come back to what I know to be more real than what I see. From the time Adam and Eve took the bite we have been living in a fallen world with a propensity to sin, a propensity to be driven by pride, a propensity to demand, and a tendency to clamor for some type of stability apart from God. The truth is Jesus warned us of precarious times, but we tend to forget His warnings. believing we deserve more, thinking He has abandoned us, doesn't really love us, is irrelevant, or doesn't even exist. But the truth is He was, He is and He is to come.
One of the stories we can draw wisdom from for days such as these is found in Luke 8:22-24. It is the story of Jesus getting into a boat with His disciples and saying, "Let's cross to the other side of the lake." As they sailed, He slept, and a strong wind arose, the waves grew, and the boat began to sink, causing great fear. The disciples frantically woke Him up and He rebuked the wind and raging waves and turned to His disciples and asked, "Where is your faith?" And they marveled at the One who could calmed the storm.
The storm they were facing wasn't a simple storm, it was hurricane-sized and even the seasoned fisherman were frightened because the boat was about to sink. The disciples fear moved from a healthy fear to frantic panic because they forgot one important thing--Jesus was in the boat with them! His question about their faith wasn't a judgement about their fear because God created them to feel this God-given, life-preserving emotion. It was a question as to why they waited to wake Him. They could have cried out to Him when the storm first started to become violent or when the stirring of fear began to rise. I wonder what kept them from crying out to the Lord sooner?
There are several reasons people wait to cry out to God in the face of storms. Sometimes it is because we are prideful, thinking we can handle storms by ourselves; but the truth is that some storms were never designed to be experienced alone.
Some of us fail to cry out, because we've been taught to ignore fear rising in the gut to warn us that something is growing dangerous--that fear that should be driving us to our knees on behalf of our families, our churches, our communities, our country, our world, and ourselves gets turned off or numbed when it is ignored.
Some of us have been taught that fear is sin, so we swallow it, we hide it, and we bury it deep and we feel so alone and so ashamed, weathering the storms through which Jesus wants to display both His peace that passes understanding and His magnificent power, and His heart loves us through through the storms.
Sometimes we don't cry out, because we're afraid of what others might think. This can be due to pride, but it is often because we've been shamed by believers for fear we experience, and the unbelief with which we struggle in face of huge storms. The fear one feels in the face of cancer, the loss of loved ones, debilitating accidents, acts of violence, growing terrorism, explosive hate groups, and the rising and falling nations is not sin. It is a call for the church to unite and encourage one another and to fall to its collective knees because the storms we are facing are not of this world; they are spiritual in nature and beyond our power to navigate. The unbelief we experience as we weather storms isn't sin; it is normal and it is healthy and it is being surfaced so it can be overcome. But sadly, Jesus image bearers often make it unsafe for unbelief to be expressed as was in Jesus day when the father of one sick child honestly cried out, "I believe, help my unbelief!"
We must not forget that we are people who are in the process of being transformed and we are all people who live with the reality of a faith that can be ambivalent. Ambivalent faith is faith that dwells first in head then moves to the heart where it can calm fear and anxiety and give peace. We must never forget that the movement from head to heart is sometimes a supernatural act that God performs, but at other times it is a process that takes place when the ambivalence is recognized, acknowledged, and confessed. To be like Jesus we are called to be people who allow each other the grace to be transparent with ambivalent faith and encourage one another to cry out to Him in our desperate need during these precarious times.
Cancer, diabetes, debilitating viruses, infections, and autoimmune diseases are making life tough for precious people and the medical system with delayed appointments, information and misinformation, and insurance battles add to the uncertainty people experience as they struggle with health issues.
PTSD, depression, anxiety, addiction, eating disorders and other mental illnesses rob people of peace, hope, and joy and a recent suicide left many of us wondering at what point her hope completely died and at what point did her ability to make choices that could lead to healing could no longer be made.
Family units, once haven's of stability, are radically changing as marriages break down due to long work hours that exhaust, isolate, and separate.
Marriages that were designed to be safe havens for two people doing life together crumble as porn allures men and women into false relationships with fake images that turn people into even more selfish, self -centered, demanding people instead of people trying to learn to love well as it normalizes the victimization of women and children and feeds the hatred of the rape culture.
And gender? It's now considered something to be assigned rather than Creator-designed. And marriage? Its been redefined to a contract between people rather than a life-long covenant between a man and a woman.
Terrorists attacks both here and abroad make this world scary; Places once dreamed about now seem less inviting. And, while I've thought the US to be a safe haven for people from all over, I am now finding myself fearfully contemplating the personal cost of welcoming the masses when the risk may be increased sexual violence of women and children as it was in Germany, increased risk of terrorists entering our country as it was in France and Turkey, and increased risk of the recruiting our own sons and daughters to do hateful deeds and even in just the writing of these things fear rises inside.
Mass shootings here at home make malls, theaters, schools, places of worship, and other places of social gatherings no longer feel safe, lending to the the break down of unity.
And gang violence, racial uprisings, and brutal attacks on our law enforcement have added to the insecurity felt as the ugly rhetoric on these things makes the stomach churn, especially when people evoke the name of Christ either verbally or through the jewelry they wear as they spout evil and hate, both so contrary to the character of the Savior.
I, like many others wonder how we are to live brave in a world that feels precarious and all I can do is come back to what I know to be more real than what I see. From the time Adam and Eve took the bite we have been living in a fallen world with a propensity to sin, a propensity to be driven by pride, a propensity to demand, and a tendency to clamor for some type of stability apart from God. The truth is Jesus warned us of precarious times, but we tend to forget His warnings. believing we deserve more, thinking He has abandoned us, doesn't really love us, is irrelevant, or doesn't even exist. But the truth is He was, He is and He is to come.
One of the stories we can draw wisdom from for days such as these is found in Luke 8:22-24. It is the story of Jesus getting into a boat with His disciples and saying, "Let's cross to the other side of the lake." As they sailed, He slept, and a strong wind arose, the waves grew, and the boat began to sink, causing great fear. The disciples frantically woke Him up and He rebuked the wind and raging waves and turned to His disciples and asked, "Where is your faith?" And they marveled at the One who could calmed the storm.
The storm they were facing wasn't a simple storm, it was hurricane-sized and even the seasoned fisherman were frightened because the boat was about to sink. The disciples fear moved from a healthy fear to frantic panic because they forgot one important thing--Jesus was in the boat with them! His question about their faith wasn't a judgement about their fear because God created them to feel this God-given, life-preserving emotion. It was a question as to why they waited to wake Him. They could have cried out to Him when the storm first started to become violent or when the stirring of fear began to rise. I wonder what kept them from crying out to the Lord sooner?
There are several reasons people wait to cry out to God in the face of storms. Sometimes it is because we are prideful, thinking we can handle storms by ourselves; but the truth is that some storms were never designed to be experienced alone.
Some of us fail to cry out, because we've been taught to ignore fear rising in the gut to warn us that something is growing dangerous--that fear that should be driving us to our knees on behalf of our families, our churches, our communities, our country, our world, and ourselves gets turned off or numbed when it is ignored.
Some of us have been taught that fear is sin, so we swallow it, we hide it, and we bury it deep and we feel so alone and so ashamed, weathering the storms through which Jesus wants to display both His peace that passes understanding and His magnificent power, and His heart loves us through through the storms.
Sometimes we don't cry out, because we're afraid of what others might think. This can be due to pride, but it is often because we've been shamed by believers for fear we experience, and the unbelief with which we struggle in face of huge storms. The fear one feels in the face of cancer, the loss of loved ones, debilitating accidents, acts of violence, growing terrorism, explosive hate groups, and the rising and falling nations is not sin. It is a call for the church to unite and encourage one another and to fall to its collective knees because the storms we are facing are not of this world; they are spiritual in nature and beyond our power to navigate. The unbelief we experience as we weather storms isn't sin; it is normal and it is healthy and it is being surfaced so it can be overcome. But sadly, Jesus image bearers often make it unsafe for unbelief to be expressed as was in Jesus day when the father of one sick child honestly cried out, "I believe, help my unbelief!"
We must not forget that we are people who are in the process of being transformed and we are all people who live with the reality of a faith that can be ambivalent. Ambivalent faith is faith that dwells first in head then moves to the heart where it can calm fear and anxiety and give peace. We must never forget that the movement from head to heart is sometimes a supernatural act that God performs, but at other times it is a process that takes place when the ambivalence is recognized, acknowledged, and confessed. To be like Jesus we are called to be people who allow each other the grace to be transparent with ambivalent faith and encourage one another to cry out to Him in our desperate need during these precarious times.
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