Road Construction, Preparing the Way of the Lord

The voice of one crying in the wilderness: 'Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight. Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be made low, and the crooked shall become straight, and the rough places shall become level ways, and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.'
Luke 3:4-6

 The day after Christmas I took a walk down a twisting little dirt path near my home. The path winds through an open field where tall grass grows and the Colorado foothills and high mountain peaks frame a magnificent view to the west. As I walked, I listened to my favorite jazz/gospel version of The Messiah. As I listened to the triumphant sounds of the song about a voice crying in the wilderness my soul filled with gratitude. 

"Wilderness" and "desert" are my favorite metaphors for difficult seasons in life. We all have them. No one exits this world without experiencing some pain. Though difficult, seasons of life spent in the wilderness can be gifts in disguise. 

As I walked and sang along with The Messiah I realized that for me, time in the wilderness prepared the way of the Lord for me.  God has done so much road construction in me. He chose to prepare the way for himself through the desolate wilderness of divorce and single parenting, and the rough places of step-parenting. And I am so grateful that he has. Even if given the chance, I wouldn't trade the gift of intimacy with him he gives me in the wilderness for the easy life I had planned for myself.

I wish that "every valley shall be filled and ... the rough places shall become level" meant removing all the pain and difficulty from my life. Unfortunately, I don't think that is what it means. That would contradict much other teaching in scripture. But he doesn't leave any of us desolate in the wilderness forever.  He speaks tenderly to us there. He plants vineyards and makes fountains and turns the wilderness into a oasis of hope.

As I walked along I couldn't help contrasting this Christmas to Christmases that have come before. I have spent many lonely Christmases, having kissed my kids goodbye on Christmas morning so that they could go celebrate with their dad. This year when my kids and step-kids were with their other parents, I treasured quiet moments with a handsome husband who loves me. For years, divorce seemed to have robbed me of the traditions that once made the holidays bright. This year, I celebrated with newer traditions my family and I have developed over the years. After my remarriage, the first holidays as a new blending family together were tense, we weren't all comfortable with the tremendous changes that followed putting two broken families together. This year, there was a lot of laughter and ease instead.

There is still have far to go, and I know that there will be more desert times along my path, but God is with me. He is so good to me. He speaks tenderly to me, and gives me vineyards in the desert and makes my valley of trouble a door of hope (from Hosea 2:15).

Immanuel. God With Us.

"Behold a virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall call his name Immanuel" (which means God with us)." Matthew 1:23

I love the word Immanuel. In one word it sums up life.

Immanuel. God with us.

Life is not about living for God. It is about living with God.

I am not sure why humans like to make simple things complicated, but we seem to. We endlessly define and quantify right behavior, but trying to live a good life above all else is not Christian. Every other religion defines right behavior and encourages followers to live good lives. Christianity is different.

God himself came to us. That is Christmas. Jesus paid the highest price possible in order to make it possible for us to be with him with no barrier in between. Because of Jesus' birth, death, and resurrection we get to live life with him. All we have to do is accept the Christmas present God gave us.

Immanuel. God with us.

When we have accepted life with him, we will want to live like lovers committed to a life together. Lovers want to be near their beloved. Lovers want to please their beloved.

God is with us and we want to be as close to him as we can.

Immanuel! God with us!

Merry, Merry Christmas!
 

His Name Shall Be...Prince of Peace

For to us a child is born, to us a son is given; and the government shall be upon his shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the increase of his government and of peace there will be no end. 

Isaiah 9:6

During the Christmas season I sing about silence and peace, but rush around in noise and turmoil. It strikes me that I need to remember that the baby in the manger was also the Prince of Peace.

In contrast to the words of Silent Night, Jesus entered a world that was anything but serene. Politically, Israel was an occupied country with corrupt men in charge. Many of the men in power in religious circles had primarily their own interests at heart. Additionally, there were the daily pressures of relationships and physical survival.   

Have you ever noticed that Jesus' daily life was not easy? Sometimes there was nothing to eat, or hoards of people were vying for his attention, death was imminent because their fishing boat was getting swamped by huge waves, or evil men were looking for ways to entrap and execute him. Jesus never seemed hurried or stressed, even when his disciples were panicking for entirely valid reasons. Jesus lived as an oasis of serenity in the midst of tumult. Jesus seemed to see beyond and beneath what the disciples saw. He knew whose hands held the world, and his daily existence. He relied on his Father in heaven in everything big and small, and calmly walked through his days as a man, and at the same time as the Prince of Peace.

I succumb to turmoil like the disciples did.  I would like to be like Jesus instead, unfazed by hurry, and worry, acutely aware that both the details of my daily existence and sweeping events of my world are in the hands of the Prince of Peace.

The Truth About the Barn

Oh Holy Spirit descend plentifully into my heart. Enlighten the dark corners of this neglected dwelling and scatter there thy cheerful beams. St. Augustine

My family had horses when I was growing up, and so I spent a good bit of time in a barn. I think it is a shame that so few of us in our urban culture spend regular time in a barn. In stories, Christmas stories in particular, barns are charming rustic places filled with light, snowy white sheep and the smell of sweet hay.

Real barns aren't like that unless they are empty, or have been thoroughly cleaned withing the past 15 minutes. Barns are shadowy, dusty, muddy, mucky places. They smell like manure and animal flesh.

The smell of manure, whether it is fresh and steaming or has been sitting around in piles for a while turning into fertilizer, isn't really pleasant, at least it isn't pleasant for people whose noses are used to the stink.

More often than not, this world in general, and many individual lives being lived in it, look and smell like a neglected barn.

The place where the holy God dwells is, by contrast, dazzlingly beautiful, brilliantly bright and absolutely pure.   The miracle of Christmas is that the pure, brilliant, holy light of heaven, in the person of the son of God himself, invaded the stinking darkness of the stable and transformed it.

That is what I celebrate during this season. I celebrate that God himself not only invaded a stable centuries ago with his light, but also, miraculously invaded the stinking stable of my life and of my very soul with his holy light and transformed it into the dwelling place of God himself.

The People who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shined. Isa 9:2

Tales of the Restoration: The Day My Restoration Began

In my last blog I recommended remembering who God is, and what he has promised, as a foundational step for rebuilding a broken life.

I want to illustrate with just one example from my own life. It was an encounter with God so powerful and so private, that I don't believe I have ever shared it before. I hesitate to share it even now because the impact of this encounter with God and the power of His words to me has never diminished.

I choose to share it even though I feel a bit shaky about it, because I hope that God is going to direct these words to a reader who needs them. I hope that hearing about what God did for me, will awaken a desire in you for an equally powerful, though uniquely designed for you, encounter with the God who loves you.

Years ago, I was devastated after my husband sought solace in other arms. I felt abandoned, unloved, unlovely, utterly alone, and tremendously afraid. One day, when my heart felt like lead and my eyes were so swollen and red from crying that I could hardly see, I pulled out my Bible, looking for comfort, not sure where to turn.

My eyes fell on the following words in Isaiah 54:6, "For the Lord has called you like a wife deserted and grieved in spirit, like a wife of youth when she is cast off" says your God.

That's me! I thought. I am a wife of youth. I am a wife deserted and grieved in spirit.

My eyes scanned up a few verses to get the context. Verse 4 says:
"Fear not, for you will not be ashamed; be not confounded, for you will forget the shame of your youth, and the reproach of your widowhood you will remember no more. For your Maker is your husband, the Lord of hosts is his name; and the Holy One of Israel is your Redeemer, the God of the whole earth he is called."

My eyes then fell on Isaiah 62:2-4, another passage I didn't remember ever reading before. "You shall be called by a new name that the mouth of the Lord will give. You shall be a crown of beauty in the hand of the Lord...You shall no more be termed Forsaken...but you shall be called My Delight Is in Her...for the Lord delights in you."

I felt chills run up and down my body. Every word seemed to have been whispered quietly, tenderly, intimately, from God's mouth to my ear. I was fearful, ashamed, and confounded. Here, in words that directly related to my situation, God was tenderly applying His healing touch to the my most deeply wounded places.

Then I stopped. Could it be possible? Could God mean these words for me, even thought they were originally written thousands of years ago in a very different context? The words "husband" and "wife" were meant metaphorically to refer to God and his people. Could it be possible that He really meant them for me as well?

I ached and yearned for it to be true, but precisely because I needed God's intimate reassurance so much, I doubted it.

Then I was reminded of truths I had learned over the years;  God was silencing the voice of the Deceiver in my head. The Jews were God's people. He was their God. Based on New Testament teachings God has called his church, including gentiles, into close relationship with him. In John 17 he said that he no longer called his disciples servants, but instead he called them friends. He even uses the terms "bride" and "bridegroom" to describe his relationship with us, his people.

I stopped to absorb the impact of this reality. I chewed and swallowed it, and let it become part of me as nourishing food becomes part of me.

I was not meant to be defined from that low point forward as an abandoned wife. I was meant to be defined as beloved by God himself. God himself delights in me!

While I would not recommend a steady diet limited to this random Bible study method, I still believe that God was speaking directly to me that day. He was tenderly speaking the truth to me in a words that were so clear that I could hear and understand them even in my broken down state. He was taking the damage done by my abandonment and using it to redefine me, to rename me.

Over the years, those words from the Lord have not only sustained me, they have transformed me into a different person. My identity comes from a God who meets the aching need of my female soul by reassuring me that I am beautiful, delightful, and loved no matter what messages to the contrary I may be getting from the harsh desert environment of this world.

My prayer for you, dear reader, is that the God who loves you will speak to you in ways specifically chosen so that you can hear His voice clearly.  I pray that you will know who He is, and what He has promised you.

Tales of the Restoration Part X: Power and Promise for Rebuilding

No matter how badly your life needs rebuilding, you have a God who has both the resources and the commitment to take the rubble and use it to build something truly beautiful. 


Some time back, as I was praying about the restoration of broken people, broken families, and broken lives, my own included, I noticed startling similarities between the way Nehemiah begins his prayer in Nehemiah 1:5-11 and the way the apostle Peter, centuries later, begins his book 2 Peter 1:3 -4.
Both begin by reminding us of God's power. Compare "Oh Lord God of heaven, the great and awesome God..." in Nehemiah, with "His divine power...his own glory and goodness." in 2 Peter.

Both Nehemiah and Peter move on to remember the way God treats us:

Nehemiah: "who keeps covenant an steadfast love with those who love him and keep his commandments."

2 Peter: "(he) has given us everything needed for life and godliness through the knowledge of him who called us...his precious and very great promises.

So, taking our cues from both Nehemiah and Peter, one key to rebuilding in life is knowledge of God. Start by acknowledging who he is.

I recommend reading this list from the two passages very slowly. Pause after each word. Think about it, create a mental picture, connect it to something tangible.

Start with power. What is the most powerful thing you can think of? A hurricane? A tidal wave? gravity? God is far more powerful. Now take your time as you move through the rest of the list. 

• power
• glory
• goodness
• great
• awesome

Now, that you have an inkling of how really big God is, continue by slowly focusing on how he relates to us.

• calling
• keeping covenant/promises
• steadfast love
• giving everything needed for life

Now take a deep breath and relax. You are in good hands.

You Are Here

Lamentations 3:19 says, "Remember my affliction and my wanderings, the wormwood and the gall! My soul continually remembers it and is bowed down within me." 

During the journey through life we all encounter stretches that are full of "wormwood and gall". It is right and good to be realistic about this. Author Larry Crabb calls it "the red dot", like finding the "you are here" red dot on a map in a shopping mall. You have know where you are before you can find a route to where you need to go. Likewise, it is healthy to realistically assess your situation and honestly own your feelings about it. Some people try to skip this step. They usually waste a lot of time wandering around, not knowing exactly where they are or where they are going.

Once we have figured out where we are, it is time to intentionally move our attention to something, or rather someone else.

"but this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end..." Lamentations 3:21-22

We can focus on our own afflictions and wanderings, or we can focus on "the steadfast love of the Lord".

The need for forgiveness in particular seems to often keep us glued to the red dot. Some people rehearse the wrongs done to them over and over. They refuse to forgive. Other people rehearse the ways they have done wrong and refuse to forgive themselves. Either way, the focus on themselves, instead of on the "steadfast love of the Lord" keeps them glued to the red dot. 

"Hold not our sins against us,

but hold us up against our sins,

so that the thought of you

when it wakens in our soul

should not remind us of what we have committed,

but of what you did forgive,

not of how we went astray,

but of how you did save us."

Soren Kierkegaard

A Good Story

I love good stories. I become so absorbed in them that I almost enter the world of the story and live it along with the characters. Almost. The difference is that I can close the book, or turn off Netflix and exit the story anytime I like.

Our lives are like stories, only in life we don't have a pause button we can use to take a break and go get popcorn. The difficulties in our own lives are somehow not nearly as enjoyable as the conflicts in the lives of characters on the page or the screen.

Our difficulties are not pointless though.

The Author has a reason for allowing them, even when we can't fathom what it is. We can fight with him and tell him that we don't like how this story is going, or we can hold on tight and wait for the next twist in the story line. Either way it is best if we eventually trust that he is writing a really good story.

The worse your problems are, the better your story is going to be. Really.

I'm Dreaming of a Desert Christmas

This time of year is distracting. There is extra noise, extra pressure to spend more money than I should, extra fattening food, extra busyness, and extra expectation that everything in my life should be happy and bright.

If you are lonely, or your family is in turmoil, or broken, the holidays highlight all the things that are not picture perfect. Facing Christmas in the desert can be tough.

I firmly believe that this sort of pain is actually a marvelous gift. A wilderness is often the perfect setting for clearing away the clutter, for encountering the divine in a new way. Acknowledging the reality that this life will never be Heaven, might just be the perfect set up for an epiphany, a chance to suddenly understand and seeing clearly for the first time.

My church is doing a series of sermons on Epiphany. It is not a word I have used often, so I decided to look it up. It means
1. The manifestation of Christ to the gentiles especially the Magi or
2. a manifestation of a divine or supernatural being or
3. a moment of sudden revelation or insight.

This Christmas season I am praying for and seeking epiphany cubed. Just as a cube has dimensionality, height and depth and width, I want this holiday season to be one characterized by three dimensional epiphany.

I want the height of encountering Christ. The Magi traveled through the desert in search of Christ. Maybe modern magi can travel through a difficult, desert season of life with the same aim. 

I want the depth to see the divine. Maybe I will have new eyes to see the divine touch in my ordinary existence or maybe I will encounter the supernatural in an unexpected way, either way I am going to have my eyes and heart searching for the Holy.

I want epiphany number 3 too. I want the width to understand in a new way, to have those "aha" epiphany moments of insight and revelation.

May your December be all about epiphany.

Love,
Beth

When Holidays Feel Like War...

During my travel down the long road of separation and divorce, facing the holidays felt like marching into battle. I hated having to share my kids with my wuzband (I like that term better than "ex"). I hated the TV commercials of happy two parent families sitting down with all of the kids for a big turkey dinner, because I hated being reminded of everything my family wasn't and never would be again. I hated the loneliness of showing up at church services and family gatherings as a one instead of a two. "Celebrating the holiday" sounded like an oxymoron to me.

Holidays are still a challenge with my new blended family. Not only do we have differing traditions and expectations to maneuver, we also have the difficulty inherent in making plans in a step family. As we try to make plans, my husband and I have to coordinate with my parents, my grown children, his parents, and both extended families. This, I suppose, is normal. But, we also have to negotiate with my wuzband, and his wuzwife, and their plans for our children. This often means that my nieces' and nephews' holiday could be altered because of their aunt's husband's wuzwife's brother-in-law's plans. Confused? Me too. That's my point.

A holiday can feel like another battle in a long war, and I don't always come out unscathed. My holidays don't always feel triumphant. That is why I was struck anew by 2 Corinthians 2:14 yesterday.

But thanks be to God, who in Christ always leads us in triumphal procession, and through us spreads the fragrance of the knowledge of him everywhere. 2 Corinthians 2:14

Always leads us in triumphal procession?

In ancient Rome when an emperor or general won a great victory he was awarded a triumphal procession by the senate.  He would march into Rome preceded by the spoils he'd won in battle and followed by the conquered enemy warriors and then his own troops.

The idea here is that though we battle and fight an enemy, Christ has won the ultimate victory. No matter that the battle still rages. The ultimate outcome is already determined. The enemy is defeated. Christ is "triumphator". The struggle is not pointless even though it sometimes feels that way.

When I was separated from my first husband, I was given a wise piece of advice from an older woman. She said, "Your mate is not your enemy. Your mate has been taken captive by your enemy." Whenever my messy family life begins to feel like a war, it behooves me to remember who my enemy is, and isn't. And, to remember that Christ is leading me in triumphal procession, celebrating the victory over the real enemy.

Our suffering, even suffering highlighted by holidays, is not in vain. No matter how messy the battle feels at the moment, we have a place in the victory parade.

Thanksgiving in the Wilderness

Yesterday the pastor in my church who greets the congregation and makes the announcements said, "This week all of us are looking forward to celebrating Thanksgiving."  It occurred to me that his statement is not really true, unless he meant that some people look forward to the day with anticipation and many others look forward to it with deep dread.

The very idea that holidays can be pure torture, seems scroogish to people who love them. However, many people, including several people in my own household, hate them.  The this-is-what-it-should-be-images of a perfect holiday collide with stark the reality of a wilderness season of life. Misplaced guilt over not being happy only adds to the problem.

For years I found myself beginning to feel sad in anticipation by the end of October, and remaining that way until I could breathe a sigh of relief that it was all over in January.

Today, I would like to simply acknowledge that this time of year is difficult. I want to tell you that if your heart is heavy and your stomach churns at the thought of facing this week, I am praying for you.  You are not as alone as you feel, and you will be able to persevere through this season.

In the next couple of posts I plan to share a couple of thoughts that have helped me during wilderness holidays.

Tales of the Restoration Part IX: Opportunity Knocks in Disguise

I have noticed something about praying for restoration.  The breakthrough happens in the strangest ways, at the most unexpected times. God is a master storyteller. His stories are always full of surprise twists. He almost never writes the story the way I would.

I have been studying the restoration that is recounted in the biblical story of Nehemiah and finding startling parallels to the restoration project going on in me and in my family.

Nehemiah had been praying for God's intervention for months. In private, he prayed and wept. In public he hid his anguish, put on a happy face, and did his job. It was a government job; serving the most powerful man in the world, the king of Persia.

I have had seasons in my life when I have trudged through my days with a happy face masking my broken heart. It happened when my parents divorced. It happened again when my first husband told me that he didn't want to be married anymore, and again when I found out why he didn't want to be married anymore. There were times like that as I slogged through years defined by being a divorced single mom. More recently there have been days like that as I have bruised my shins running up against the realities of building a blended family from the pieces of two broken homes.

The only thing that gets me out of bed in the morning on such days is duty. I get up. I do my job. I try to hide the fact that my heart is in excruciating pain. I go home. I hide in the bathroom while I cry and pray. Eventually the day ends. Finally, gratefully, I sleep for a few hours. I get up, get slammed by the sorrow, and do it all again. Sometimes I do this for months.

Nehemiah was a good faker, but not quite as good as he thought he needed to be. He had hidden his distress for four months. Unfortunately, one day, his boss, a very powerful man, in fact the most powerful man in the world at that time, noticed that he did not look good. The king perceived that the problem was emotional and not physical. Nehemiah's immediate reaction was fear. He hadn't meant for things to go this way. He hadn't meant for his distress to interfere with his work. Kings, and this one was no exception, weren't generally known for their patience and understanding with depressed servants. Nehemiah swallowed hard, and shaking in his boots, he told the truth.  This was a very dicey thing since the king ruled the empire, that conquered the empire, that was responsible for the destruction of Jerusalem in the first place.

The best things sometimes happen that way. They enter your life disguised as disasters. The very thing you have been trying with all of your might to avoid, happens, and you just have to go with it.

A few months ago I was struggling with the role of stepmother. I have spent my entire adult life working with kids. I love kids, and almost without exception kids love me. I say, almost without exception.

The notable exception happened after I disrupted already messy little lives by marrying these particular kids' father. A few months ago my stepkids had been sending me not-so-subtle messages that they didn't really want me in their lives, and I was hurting. One morning, the hurt spilled out. It overflowed in a rush. I couldn't stop it in time. My anger and hurt erupted with force all over the place. No expert giving advice about building bonds between stepmom and stepkids ever recommends this approach. I thought I had ruined any chance I was ever going to have of being accepted by these guys.

Nehemiah spilled his guts to the king. Surprisingly the king did not do as Nehemiah expected and summon the executioner. Instead the king asked how he could help, and the opportunity Nehemiah had been praying for appeared out of the blue.

My explosion prompted a discussion with the kids. We talked for hours. It was the turning point I had been praying for.

Sometimes when opportunity knocks, he does it in disguise.

William and Kate and Why We Care

Once upon a time there was a girl. She was very beautiful and smart and athletic. One day a handsome prince noticed her beauty. After a while he asked her to marry him and the common girl became a princess. The prince and the princess got married in a huge old cathedral, with the whole world watching and cheering, and lived happily ever after.

For the past 2 days the engagement of Prince William and Kate Middleton has been all over the news. More than that, there doesn't seem to be any news other than the engagement of William and Kate. It is like the whole world; all of the dark dealings of secret terrorists cells, all of the natural disasters, all of the financial crises, stopped so that the whole world could be caught up in the engagement of these two people. None of those things stopped of course. The news media just decided that no one wanted to hear about the bad stuff as much as they wanted to hear about the prince and future princess.

Why the fascination?
I think it is because deep inside every woman there is a vulnerable little girl who wants to be the princess.

We long to be beautiful and be loved by the prince. We want his love for us to elevate us from commoner to royalty. We want to be at the center of the celebration. We want to live happily ever after. But, that is just a fairy tale. It isn't really real, even for William and Kate.

Except it is. Actually, the real story is even better. Here is the storyboard; the general outline of the story.

We were in a real mess. The handsome prince named Jesus came to the rescue. He wooed us. He asked us to live forever with him in paradise. At the end of the story there will be a wedding feast. He will be the groom and his church (that's you and me!) will be the bride. The whole universe will watch and cheer.

That is our real story. The whole thing is going to happen. Right now we just happen to be in the middle of the story. This is the part where things are messy and ugly and seem like they just aren't going to work out right. All good stories have to have that part. If they didn't, the end of the story wouldn't be as satisfying. Just wait though. The happy ending is coming, and you get to be the princess.

The Problem with Being in the Middle

In the story The Lord of the Rings Frodo and Sam, rather unremarkable small persons, find themselves at the heart of a quest to defeat evil and save the world. About two-thirds of the way through their journey they perch wearily on a narrow ledge overlooking the evil land of Mordor and discuss the state of things. They are alone; separated from  their strong friends. Both food and water are nearly gone. Their strength is failing. The destination is still distant, and the worst part of the journey lies ahead.  They have come too far to turn back, but there seems to be little chance that they will successfully complete their quest.

All good stories have a scene something like that in the middle.

I am pretty sure that all lives have a scene something like that in the middle too. We come to a time when the whole thing feels pointless, even hopeless.

Then we are tempted to quit, or at least to try to jump into a different story.

Frodo and Sam ultimately stand up and trudge on, because the quest is so much more important than the two of them.

Sometimes I make the mistake of thinking that my life is supposed to be about me. I want it to be a nice little story. I want it to have a beginning, middle, and end that all read "And she lived happily every after". But stories like that are very boring stories, and God doesn't write boring stories.

Our lives are part of a big story. The story has big themes. Its themes are about good and evil, the war over the ultimate fate of the universe, and a quest to put everything right again. I am a small and weak character caught up in this big story. You are too. The story is not really about us, but we are important in it.

If Frodo and Sam had laid down and died on that ledge, the Lord of the Rings would have come to a disappointing ending reading something like, "and evil triumphed and misery reigned ever after."

We can't lay down and give up in the middle of the struggle either. The fate of the universe does not hinge on you or on me, but we are part of a much bigger story. Even though we are small in the face of it, we matter. If we give up, we have strengthened the cause of the enemy. If, on the other hand, we muster the courage to trudge on, we might just get to see the triumph at the end.     

Tales of the Restoration: The Gift of Tears (part II) or Go Ahead, Cry If You Want To!

The soul would have no rainbow had the eyes no tears.  ~John Vance Cheney



For the past year, I have been learning a lot about a time of restoration from the Biblical story of Nehemiah. Today I am thinking about the role of crying, and mourning in the process of restoration.

The first thing Nehemiah did when he heard about the shameful state of his homeland was burst into tears. I don't mean he got a little misty for a moment. He "wept and mourned for days". Nehemiah was an important government official and male, but he apparently felt no shame over the depth of his emotion.


As soon as I heard these words I sat down and wept and mourned for days, and I continued fasting and praying before the God of heaven. Nehemiah 1:4 

I decided to do a little research into tears. It turns out that the standard advice, "don't cry", may be very bad advice.

Animals don't shed tears. So why did God create tears in humans?

Dr. William Frey, a "tear expert",  found that emotional tears contain a mood-elevating and pain reducing endorphin, a stress hormone, protein carrying the molecular code for emotions throughout the body, and a mineral involved with our moods. In contrast, irritant tears, (like those produced when dicing onions) were 98 percent water. Apparently, when we "cry it out", we are physically shedding the stress and emotion. Maybe that is one reason the crying makes us feel better. (information from http://smdailyjournal.com/article_preview.php?id=53397&eddate=01/12/2006)

Heaven knows we need never be ashamed of our tears, for they are rain upon the blinding dust of earth, overlying our hard hearts.  ~Charles Dickens, Great Expectations, 1860

Tales of the Restoration: The Gift of Tears

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:...a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance. Ecclesiastes 4:1,4

Growing up and through my early adulthood, I somehow adopted the idea that both anger and crying were bad. To someone who cries easily, I am sure it sounds strange that I was unable to cry. I even quit feeling things. I became emotionally dead, unable to feel either the heights of joy or the depths of sorrow.

As an adult, through the depths of the realization of some of my worst nightmares, and the help of a very patient mentor, I gradually came back to life emotionally. I learned to feel anger, and to cry. Now, when I cry I also feel gratitude for the gift of tears. It is such a relief to be able to cry.

On my other blog, http://thosewhosee.blogspot.com/ I have been writing about developing a habit of happiness. Happiness is important and, for those who draw careful distinctions, joy is an integral part of the life of a Christian. I sometimes wonder though, if there are other Christians, who like me, get the wrong idea. The route to joy is not to overdose on emotional anesthesia. We are not meant to deaden ourselves from experiencing the pain of life. There is a time to weep.

I have a friend who is in the depths of divorce. She cries frequently and easily. I think it is healthy. It is her time to weep. She wonders if it will always be like this. It won't.

Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes in the morning. Psalm 30:5

More on tears next time.

An Open Prayer on a Day of Discouragement

"'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong...I will most gladly spend and be spent for your souls. If I love you more am I to be loved less?" (2 Corinthians 12: 9-10, 15 ESV)

My husband and his wuzwife, (I like the sound of that better than ex-wife) each have responsibility for their kids half the time. Every few days the kids endure cataclysmic change. In the moment it takes to exit a vehicle and walk in the door of a house, the accepted standards of behavior, the priorities, the way people treat each other, the values, and the food all change drastically.

The kids' stress on transition days often manifests itself in rudeness, anger and defensiveness. Intellectually, I think I understand what is going on. Emotionally, I have not yet learned how to steel myself against the hurricane of turmoil and conflict that slams into my peaceful home each week. I get discouraged, deeply discouraged sometimes.

Below is the prayer I prayed on one difficult day when my discouragement collided with Paul's attitude and courage in 2 Corinthians 12.

I share it, hoping that walking with me will encourage someone else who gets the wind knocked out of them on occasion.
If there is someone reading this who also faces discouragement, opposition from within and without, this is my prayer for you too.

A disclaimer: When I talk to God, I pour out my feelings untempered and uncensored. I am pretty melodramatic. It is OK. God already knows the intensity of my emotions. He can take it.  He also knows that he is not going to let me fall, and that just pouring everything out to Him makes me feel better.

My Prayer:

O God,

I feel like an outsider in my own family. My walls of my house are no barrier to the enemy that seeks to undo us. The boundaries are so porous that a cell phone call can penetrate them with flaming darts and wreak havoc.  'Hardship, persecution, and calamity' (2 Corinthians 12:9, ESV) march right through my safest place unfettered.  How can I be content?

"I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me."

The power of Christ...the power of the resurrection. The power that holds all things together. Yet, even you submitted to suffering and persecution for a time.

Lord, I want to be like you. Though you suffered you never panicked. You wept, but you were not anxious. I know that if I had the perfect life, I would not cling so closely to you. These problems and my own inability to change things, create an opportunity.

I have the opportunity to "boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me." Oh Jesus, for your sake, help me to be content with weaknesses (mine and my family member's), insults (from angry stepkids), hardships (undermining, and meddling from the outside), persecutions (unfair treatment), and calamities. I choose to believe that when I am weak, then I am strong.

This battle is not against any flesh and blood person. This battle is against the evil powers in this dark world (Ephesians 6:12). Evil is my enemy.

Oh, Lord, let the power of Christ rest upon me. Help me to continue to hope, to trust, to persevere. I pray that you will give me eyes to see your mighty hand moving. Help me see your fingerprints on this infuriating situation and this day.
Amen

Tales of the Restoration: Burned Gates (continued)

Nehemiah 1:3 The remnant there...is in great trouble and shame. The wall of Jerusalem is broken down, and its gates are destroyed by fire.

The Rubble
Years after their parents' divorce, my stepkids still have broken down walls and burned gates. Pain and confusion keeps their gates barred with rubble. Loyalty to their mother keeps them closed to me as their stepmom. Often they are also closed to even their dad.

I could definitely be wrong, but my guess is it has to do with their perception that loyalty to their mom means they must love her exclusively. If they open up to me, she will not be OK. In their minds, they have to take care of her. She seems vulnerable. This defense of her means that the rebuilding of healthy gates has not happened quickly in the relationship with me.

The View from the Other Side of the Gate
I am also in the other position, that of being the mother of kids who have a stepmom. When my wuzband (isn't that a great word for the-man-who-was-once-my-husband? I found it in Readers Digest.) first remarried, it was very hard for me to think of my precious children developing a relationship with their new stepmom. I felt threatened and fearful that she might replace me in their hearts. When I get angry at my stepkids' mom, I try to force myself to remember how difficult it once was for me to be in her position, to share my kids. Over the years, I learned that even a good stepmom-stepkid relationship is not the same as a mother-child relationship. There is room in my kids' hearts for both of us.

Knocking on the Gates
A few days ago, I visited the school where I taught for many years. A number of kids ran up and gave me suffocating bear hugs. Their gates were open to me.
I long for that same spontaneous affection and openness to me, from my stepkids. Even though we have been a family for over 2 years, it has not happened. While I wait and maintain hope for the gates to open a smidgen,  my challenge is to keep my own gates well oiled and in working order. It isn't always easy.

Tales of the Restoration Part VII: Burned Gates

Nehemiah 1:3 The remnant there...is in great trouble and shame. The wall of Jerusalem is broken down, and its gates are destroyed by fire.

Photo from http://www.biblewalks.com/Photos4/ZionGate4.JPG

Walls and Gates
City walls bar entry to enemies who seek to destroy. Gates control access so that people who seek to enter for good may come in. A restored, healthy person must have both strong walls and working gates.

The Siege
The siege  and destruction of a family not only destroys walls, it also burns the gates. Until their walls and gates are restored, people who have been hurt have burned gates are blocked with mounds of rubble. After a divorce, parents and children alike often have heart-gate issues.

Burned Gates
You can recognize a person with burned gates. They are angry. Depending on personality, the anger may simmer underneath the exterior. It may be painted to make it look like something besides anger, or it may be explosive and obvious. No matter what it looks like, the anger is shouting "This gate is closed! Keep out!"

Restoration means not only rebuilding healthy boundaries, "walls", but also rebuilding the gates so that good can enter your life again.

More on burned gates later...

In Her Own Jail

Some sat in darkness and the deepest gloom...for they had rebelled against the words of God... Then they cried to the Lord in their trouble, and he saved them from their distress. He brought them out of darkness...and broke away their chains. Psalm 107:10-14(NIV)

In the novel The Help by Kathryn Stockett there is a character who believes she is superior to the women who serve her. She is hateful, even to the point of having innocent women incarcerated. At the end of the book the wise protagonist rightly perceives that the awful "Miss Hilly" is the one in the darkest jail.

Self-constructed soul prisons are even more confining than the physical kind. There is no end to the prison sentence and no parole board.

Soul prisons are constructed from bricks of fear, of addiction, of bitterness... For years I suffered in a prison built of pride and the fear of abandonment.

I once had a friend whose husband had an affair with a woman in their neighborhood. My friend was quickly imprisoned by her own hatred for the neighbor who wronged her. At first her vengeance felt good. If she hadn't broken away from it, it would have kept her locked up for life.

Another woman I know is locked up by a ravenous need to be loved. On the surface she is a giver, but thinly masked by the veneer of sacrifice is a core of self-service. 

Cannot Escape Alone
The only way to escape from a self-constructed prison is to cry to the lord. He can bring us out of the deepest gloom.

Prayer: Lord, I am in trouble again. I built a prison and now I am trapped in it. Free me Lord. Break away my chains. Amen


Work Cited: Stockett, Kathryn. The Help. New York: Amy Einhorn, 2009. Print."She in her own jail, but with a lifelong term." Kathryn Stockett, The Help

Tales of the Restoration Part VI: Broken Walls

Nehemiah 1:3 The remnant there...is in great trouble and shame. The wall of Jerusalem is broken down, and its gates are destroyed by fire.

Photo of Jerusalem From The Cutting Edge News

http://www.thecuttingedgenews.com/uploads/cmimg_12886.jpg

Walls
Walls were built around ancient cities to keep out enemies who sought to destroy.

As I struggled years ago through the siege and fall of my marriage, I did not have strong boundaries. I wanted so badly to please, and preserve the peace in my home, that I accepted breaches in my boundaries with only weak resistance.

My wall was broken down.

Still today I fall back into the same pattern sometimes. I try very hard to please, and in the process I fail to enforce healthy boundaries. Someone, even someone I love, pushes through the weak area. I feel violated. I become very angry. I have a difficult time forgiving.

My wall is still broken down in places.

Prayer
Lord, help me to understand the role of the wall in the restoration you are working.

For more on healthy boundaries in relationships I highly recommend reading Boundaries by John Townsend and Henry Cloud.

Gates that let in the good, are just as important as walls that keep out the bad. More about the role of gates in the next post.

Risk Assessment

When I was growing up we raised Arabian horses and broke them for riding. Actually, I use "we" very loosely. My dad did all the work.

When I was little he would sometimes set me on the back of a young horse before it was ready to bear the weight of an adult. The colts and fillies had to gradually adjust to having something on their back. First a blanket, then a saddle, then me. Some horses were scared by the feeling of having something on their back. Some of them were just plain angry.

I vividly remember one horse. Her name was "Lacey". She was skittish. Daddy worked for weeks just to get her to accept the blanket on her back. Finally the day came that he judged her to be ready for me. He gingerly put me on her back. He had one hand on Lacey's halter and the other on me. The horse startled and took one long sideways leap about 10 feet across the corral, taking both me and my dad with her. A moment later, as we blinked in stunned surprise at suddenly finding ourselves on the opposite side of the enclosure, we both burst out laughing.

I wasn't really scared, even though we really could have been badly injured by that crazy horse. I think the reason was that my dad had a tight grip on me throughout the entire flight.

Choosing to love is like riding on the back of that crazy horse. I might get thrown off. I could even get seriously injured. However, I believe that Jesus was the one who put me here and he still has a tight hold on me. Wherever I go, He will still be right there with me.

Jesus never sat down with his disciples and said, "Now listen, you guys be careful out there. Otherwise you could get hurt..." Actually he did the very opposite. He promised them that if they were following Him, they would get hurt. And, He promised them that He would be with them in it.

Loving deeply is a very dangerous thing to do. It is going to hurt. Sometimes it is going to hurt a lot.
We should be wise and thoughtful about our choices; what we choose to do, who we choose to love. Goggles and safety helmets definitely have their place. I think a person should pray constantly and be sure of what God is calling them to do.

After that, it is time to let Him lift you onto the back of that horse and hold on.

This post was also published on http://thosewhosee.com/

A Spirit of Fear

My husband's company requires a safety talk at the beginning of every meeting. They talk about why people should never stand on chairs to reach things and why they should always wear safety goggles. Honestly, sometimes I am surprised that those accountants and engineers don't sit pecking at their computers wearing helmets and safety goggles. I suppose that the company is trying to cut workman's compensation expenses, but the extreme emphasis on safety annoys me. I'm not even the one who has to listen to the talks!

I think that people are too fearful and too careful already. Sometimes I want to bust out and do something dangerous.

I watched this "balance beam" video clip by Francis Chan this morning. It is worth watching.

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LA_uwWPE6lQ

The temptation to just hold on tight until I reach the end of life is strong. But, I think Mr. Chan has a point. I doubt God is going to be greeting me with an enthusiastic "well-done!" if all I do is hang on tight and stay safe until life is over.

"For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control." 2 Timothy 1:7

Tales of the Restoration Part V: Enemy Tactics

Predictable Tactics
The enemy uses predictable tactics against most people who have been wounded by the unfaithfulness of a husband or wife.

If-Onlys
Unwelcome thoughts scream for attention inside a betrayed spouse's head. She wonders what she could have done to prevent her partner's infidelity. The "if onlys" camp on her front lawn and ring her doorbell constantly. "If only I was younger and prettier... if only I was a more interesting person...if only I weighed 10 pounds less...if only I was stronger..." These if-onlys are lies, a scheme of the evil one.


Last week I wrote that I had to learn to see my own sinfulness from God's perspective. I was not talking about opening the door to these insidious if-onlys. Saying that I had to admit to being a sinner in need of grace, may sound like I blame myself for the adultery that eventually ended our marriage.  That is not my intention.

A Second Favorite Tactic
A second favorite tactic of the evil one is to entice a person to see herself as a victim. Without intervention, victims become entrenched in their own helplessness, imprisoned by bitterness at the person who wounded them. Being willing to see herself as a co-recipient of God's grace, is a necessary step toward freedom from the chains of bitterness.

For me, seeing my own sinfulness, even though I have always excelled at being a good girl, was an important step toward freedom.

Admitting that I am a sinful person did not relieve my ex-husband of responsibility. It did not mean that his choices were my fault.  Instead, confessing my own need for forgiveness freed me from one of the traps set for me.

Step-mothering: A Walk in the Twilight Zone

Stepmothering is a kind of twilight zone between two worlds.

I have many of the responsibilities of a mother, but almost none of the authority. I love my stepkids, but even that is a twilight zone, because they feel a powerful loyalty to their mother. Affection toward me, or even gratitude for the things I do, seems like a threat to her. 

The process of gluing together a new family out of the shards of two broken families is tediously slow, and your fingers get cut on the sharp edges.

Yesterday, at my stepson's request, I took some homemade Chai to school for a project. I was thrilled to be asked. It felt like a gesture of acceptance from him. It was the first time I have dared to step foot in the school without the legitimatizing presence of their father beside me.

From the moment I called the reception desk to try to find out what time class began, it was clear that I was an outsider. My husband takes responsibility for school related parenting obligations for his kids. I take care of those things for my daughter. So, when the receptionist asked the name of the homeroom teacher. I panicked. My mind went completely blank. I could not remember the teacher's name! I felt stupid, worse that stupid. I felt like I was trespassing by even thinking of walking into the building.

The receptionist must have thought that I was worse than stupid too because from the moment I admitted that I didn't know the name of the teacher, she treated me with great suspicion. I am pretty sure that she thought I was a stepmother after the tradition of Snow White's step-mother, likely to show up to class with a whole bag of poison apples. It seemed more like I was mounting a hostile invasion then like I was just dropping off a treat.

It all worked out ok. I gathered my courage to walk into the school and face the receptionist. I must not look as dangerous as I sound, because after she used the computer to confirm that I really was the stepmom, she let me take the treats to the classroom. Reportedly, the kids liked the Chai. Some even asked for the recipe so they could have it at home.

I agreed to do this because I wanted to do something nice for my step-son. I wanted to take another baby step toward finding my place in his life. It was a small thing, no different from the dozens of other ways my husband and I work toward gluing our new family together each day.

It was hard. It was risky. It was emotionally costly. And, it was worth it.

Tales of the Restoration Part IV: Spiritual Far-sightedness

Spiritual Far-sightedness
For many years I was relationally far-sighted.  I could see other people and their flaws and sins clearly, but I had a much more difficult time seeing myself.  This became obvious during the time my first marriage was disintegrating.

My then husband (I will call him E) had been unfaithful, and my world was crumbling around me.

I had a wonderful mentor who walked very closely with me during that time. She is a beautiful older woman. She has chocolate brown eyes that reflect the fathomless depth of a beautiful soul. She wept with me. She listened to me.  She loved me. Most important of all, she stubbornly refused to allow me to stay on the path I was on.

Speeding Toward Bitterness
I was speeding toward intense bitterness. From my point of view I was the of victim of my husband's gross infidelity. The way I saw things, I was innocent and he was guilty.  It sounded reasonable enough to me, but staying on that course would have led me to ruin. My mentor saw where I was headed and refused to allow it. For hours each week we would sit together.  I would pour out my heart and she would listen. Then gently, but with supernatural precision, she would catch me in my pride. "Do you see how arrogant that point of view is?" she would ask. She had to stay after me for ages before I could see my own sinfulness. 

I will always be grateful to her.  If it weren't for her relentless intervention I would have become a very ugly person.

Nehemiah's Confession
Nehemiah must have been faced with a similar temptation. After all, he was too young to have been responsible for the sin that led to the nation's captivity in Babylon. He was not among the first exiles to return to the land with the priest Ezra either.

In prayer, Nehemiah first reminded himself that God was big enough to handle the job of rebuilding and rescuing the nation from their current crisis, and that God loves them and keeps His promises, and that He is listening.

Then, right away Nehemiah began confessing. He confessed his own sins, but he didn't stop there. He also confessed his family's sins. Then, he confessed the nation's sins. He looked at himself, his family, and his people from God's point of view and specifically listed the ways they had fallen short.

Restoration Begins with Confession
In a time of suffering, particularly if that suffering is caused by the betrayal by someone you love, it is very tempting to become spiritually far sighted. You see the sin of the betrayer, but none of your own.  No rebuilding project can be successful if it is undertaken by people suffering from this kind of blindness.

During the beginning of my marriage crisis, and for many years after, I prayed fervently for God to restore our marriage.  God was unbelievably tender and present to me during those times of prayer. He spoke to me, sometimes dramatically, in ways I could hear and understand. He repeatedly reframed the discussion. Every time I prayed for him to break down strongholds of evil in someone else's life he would reveal a stronghold in my own life instead. Every time I prayed for change, He would gradually change me before eventually changing my circumstances.

God had to restore my vision before he would restore my life. I will always be thankful that he did. 

More About the Crazy Woman in My Shoes

A few days ago I wrote about the fact that I massively overreacted to my husband and step daughter last weekend.  I was mystified by my own reactions.  These days when I confuse myself I always blame my hormones.  Hormones truly could be playing a part in it, but I think there might be something more here that warrants a closer look. My over-the-top feelings of anger and hopelessness could be symptoms of something in me that needs to be addressed. This morning I read something about this topic in the book Walking with God by John Eldredge. If the book wasn't copyrighted in 2008, I would have thought John wrote them directly to me.

When you see in others-or find in yourself-reactions and responses that seem way out of proportion, that's a clue that something else is going on. Other things are at play.  We usually just write such reactions off to immaturity, when in fact God may be using them to surface deeper issues so that we can deal with them.  Or the enemy may be up to something.  Quite often, both are going on. But what usually happens is that we're embarrassed by our overreaction, and we do what we can to quickly get past it.

I still don't understand what deeper issues God is addressing in me or if my reactions are a form of spiritual attack.  I am praying and asking others who pray for me to pray that I will be able to hear what God has to tell me about this. 

Friendly Fire

I totally blew it last weekend.

A little background is in order. I used to be an exceptionally steady person, steady to a fault.  I almost never got angry and think I can truthfully say that for years I never reacted outwardly in anger. It wasn't really a healthy way to be, but that is another story.

So, I was shocked by the appearance of the crazed woman standing in my shoes over the weekend. I inwardly fumed at my husband. I exploded at my stepdaughter when she made a small and predictable mistake.  I may have set my hard earned better relationship with her back by many months.
How did I become this irrational maniac who makes no sense even to myself?  Can I blame it on hormones?

Whatever the cause, I ended up deeply discouraged. I felt like an injured soldier who reacted by firing a wild shot, wounding someone in my own regiment. I wanted to dessert.  I wanted to run from the front lines of the battle and hide.

I am not sure how I became a soldier in the first place. I hate conflict. I am afraid of it. I am afraid that conflict will destroy my most precious relationships.  It takes me a long time to recover from an argument. My husband, often the much needed voice of reason in my life, tells me that I have this all wrong.  He says that conflict gives us a chance to confront our weaknesses. He says that we emerge from these conflicts better than we were before because we have identified and addressed problems. I have a lot to learn from him.

Anyway, like it or not, I am in a battle. I have a real enemy who is seeking to destroy me and the people I love. Fortunately, none of us is alone in this.  We have a God who is high and powerful but, not far away.

I dwell in the high and holy place, and also with him who is of a contrite and lowly spirit, to revive the spirit of the lowly and to revive the heart of the contrite.       Isaiah 57:15  

God himself came down to be with me in this low place.  Just listen to what that word "revive" means.  It means to give life, nourish, recover, repair, restore. He knows that I feel beat down and depressed.  He is here to in the trenches to help me become whole. Maybe I can get up and jump back into the fray after all.

My husband is right again.  Conflict can make us stronger.

 

The Lesson I Learned from a Flower

I want to be like these flowers; flourishing, blooming, colorful and joyful even in a hard place.

Tales of the Restoration Part III: How to Avoid Handyman Syndrome

I am part of the microwave generation. I am not very patient. When I am hungry, I want my meals hot, tasty and now. When I am hit with a problem, I want it banished immediately. I don't usually panic. Rather, I scheme. When a relational crisis erupts, I leap into handyman mode. I analyze the problem and how it can be fixed quickly. I grab whatever tools are within my grasp and begin banging around with my wrench and duct tape. There are many flaws in this approach. I am sloppy. I have no idea what I am doing. And, I serve as my own strategist, army, and clean up crew. I act like I am on my own. 

The master of the universe loves me. He is listens to me and yet, I act like I have to do it myself?  This is silly.  It is more than silly.  It is stupid. 

I need to react more like a body reacts. When I stub my toe, does it immediately run off by itself for a splint and some ibuprofen? No, of course not! How would a disembodied toe take pain medication? It sends a distress signal to the head in the form of pain. I guess pain is a form of prayer, a cry for help.  

I Corinthians 12 compares Christians to a body. Christ is the head and each of us is a small but vital part of the body. When crisis hits, the best thing to do is to slow down, remember that I am connected to the rest of the body, and send a pain signal to the head. The thing to do is pray.  

Nehemiah was hit with a crisis. Instead of leaping into action, he leaped into intense prayer. He prayed for four months. He didn't do anything to fix the crisis in all that time. He didn't even allow himself to look sad at work. 

The bigger the crisis, the more I need to resist the urge to scheme. Instead, I need to throw my energy into praying and waiting. Often I need to pray and refrain from all forms of the handyman syndrome. I might be called to do nothing at all, except pray for months. In the process, I remember that I am not alone. I am not created to be Atlas, trying to hold the world on my shoulders. Praying reminds me that it is God, and not me, who holds all things together. 

Shining a Little Light on the Monster Under the Bed

"If there is one door in the castle you have been told not to go through, you must."  Anne Lamott

The phone rang yesterday morning just as I was settling in for my first cup of tea.  It was someone begging me to think carefully about what I am doing here. He strongly warned me that people I love might get hurt.  He stopped short of asking me not to continue writing this blog; probably because he knows that would push me to write even more.

I have a tube of makeup in my drawer labeled "concealer".  It promises to cover up dark spots and blemishes.  It promises to give the illusion that I have perfect skin.  It doesn't work.  Instead, it makes me look as if I have some kind of scary disease.

We try to use concealer on more than just our skin.  We spend precious energy trying to conceal the dark and ugly parts of our lives, of ourselves.  What would happen if we threw away the concealer? Is it so terrible to be real?

It is certainly not my purpose to hurt people by honestly telling my story.  I would never intentionally hurt my children, my step-children, or my husband. There has been a lot of forgiveness and healing since my divorce. I do not have any desire to hurt even my ex-husband.

Actually, my purpose for this blog is the opposite.  It is to grab my LED flashlight and point it at that dusty place under the bed where the monsters hide. Good will come of shining light into the darkness.

Anne Lamott says, "When people shine a little light on their monster, we find out how similar most of our monsters are.  The secrecy, the obfuscation, the fact that these monsters can only be hinted at, gives us the sense that they must be very bad indeed.  But when people let their monsters out for a little onstage interview, it turns out that we've all done or thought the same things, this is our lot, our condition.  We don't end up with a brand on our forehead.  Instead, we compare notes." 

The thing is, when we shine light into the dark places we find out that we are not alone anymore.  Not only are there other people who relate to us, God is there in the light.

God is light, and in him is no darkness at all.  If we say we have fellowship with him while we walk in darkness, we lie and do not practice the truth.  But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus cleanses us from all sin.  If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us.  If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. 1 John 1:5-9

Confession leads to forgiveness, but it also leads to cleansing.  Maybe it is no mistake that telling the truth is sometimes called "coming clean".

It is much better to live in the light than in the dark.

I would like for this blog to become a dialog (Would that make it a dia-blog?).  Please bring your thoughts out into the light by sharing them, even if you disagree. 


"And it's wonderful to watch someone finally open that forbidden door that has kept him or her away.  What gets exposed is not people's baseness but their humanity.  It turns out that the truth, or reality, is our home. " Anne Lamott

Walk with Me

Have you ever been blindsided by a crisis?  I have.  In the beginning, I always live in denial.  It takes me a little while to grasp the reality of the situation.  The longer this, "what just happened?" phase lasts, the worse it is going to hurt when reality hits.  

Have you ever noticed the pause between when a baby gets hurt and the cry that comes out of her mouth?  If the the cry comes immediately, the injury is probably not too serious.  If she holds her breath, and is silent for several seconds before she lets out an ear piercing shriek, it might mean a trip to the doctor.  It is the same with me.

One night my now ex-husband broke down my carefully constructed wall of naivety about the true state of our marriage, by confessing that he had had an affair. The numbness lasted for weeks.  When the shock finally wore off, I was totally paralyzed by pain and fear.  I felt like no one in the history of the world had ever suffered as badly as I was suffering.  I was sure that no one could endure this pain and live.

At that time, I longed to hear a similar story from someone who had been where I was and lived to tell about it. I didn't really want advice, I just wanted hope that there could still be a future for me.  I especially wanted to hear a story about infidelity that ended with "and they lived happily ever after." Infidelity is such a private devastation that few people are willing to tell their story.  Many, many people suffer through it alone.  If they successfully repair the relationship, in all likelihood, no one on the outside ever knows there was a problem.

If you have been hit with the stunning blow of infidelity or with another no-one-has-ever-hurt-this-badly kind of crisis, I invite you to walk with me for a while.  I want to tell you my story bit by bit.  I want to tell you of the pain and God's faithfulness. I want to share some of the things I learned; truths that strengthened me and brought me comfort. God did the unimaginable for me.  He allowed me to live through my worst nightmare, but he turned it around and used it to bless me.  In the middle of my years-long darkest night I would not have imagined that the story of my life could be anything but a tragedy.  But it isn't a tragedy at all.  It is a good story.  Really.  I promise.

Tales of the Restoration Part II: Eavesdropping in the Throneroom

When things are really bad, sometimes it helps to follow another person's lead. 

Nehemiah was blindsided by a crisis.  The situation seemed hopeless.  Nehemiah was far away and isolated*.   When the crisis hit, Nehemiah reacted with intense grief.  Then he turned to fasting and prayer.  Nehemiah's prayer is written out for us in Nehemiah 1: 5-11.  It is a great model to use in times of crisis.

If I had been in Nehemiah's place, I would probably have gone straight to telling God what to do.  I would tell him how to fix my problem, and demand that he take care of things immediately. Nehemiah didn't do that.  His prayer doesn't even mention the problem for quite a while. I picture the harried cupbearer taking a very deep breath, and slowing himself down.

The first thing Nehemiah says is, "O Lord God of heaven, the great and awesome God who keeps covenant and steadfast love with those who love him and keep his commandments..."  Wait a minute.  God already knew all that. Why did Nehemiah have to use the long title?

It reminds me of the old stories where commoners must bow their foreheads to the ground and recite a very long list of the king's flowery titles before being allowed to ask the king for justice. But why? The king's title isn't repeated because the king can't remember his own job description.  The title is used because it is good and right that the commoner respectfully acknowledge who he is addressing before he dashes right in. Maybe that is exactly what is happening here. I don't think God needed to be reminded that he was a great and awesome God.  I think Nehemiah needed to remember that God was bigger than his present crisis, even though it was a big crisis.

After addressing God as a great and awesome God, Nehemiah identifies God as the one who keeps his promises, especially one promise. God promised to love his people steadfastly, loyally, stubbornly. I think Nehemiah needed to remember that God was not indifferent in the face of the crisis.  God could be trusted to act in love.

Finally, Nehemiah asked God to listen. God wasn't distracted. He wasn't waiting for someone to catch his attention. These words were also for Nehemiah's benefit. He needed to know that God was listening.

It is a good starting point isn't it?  When we are confronted with a crisis, we'd best run straight to the throne room.  After all, the king is our dad.  We can run crying to him, but it is a good thing to take a deep breath and remember 3 things.

Number 1:  God is big.  He is really, really big.  He is more than powerful enough to handle your present crisis.  No matter what it is, even if it is a devastating, suck-all-the-air-out-of-your-lungs, this-is-the-end kind of crisis, God is bigger than it is.  

Number 2: God's steadfast love has never left you.  No matter how bad it is, God will always love you, even if no one else does.

Number 3: The God who holds together heaven and earth is paying close attention to you.  He knows your words.  He even knows your heart and your heartache.  He is watching over you; you have His attention.  Spill it all out to him.  God is listening.  Really!

*For more background see the blog post from September 16, Tales of the Restoration Part 1.

The View from Under the Dirt

I sat down with the apostle Paul this morning to confide in him.  I was feeling a bit cranky. "Paul," I complain, "my life is tough.  Nothing I do lasts.  I am weary, worn down.  And, I admit it, sometimes I would like a little attention.  I long for a pat on the back, a plaque on my wall, something, anything I could point to on bad days and say to myself,  'See?  I am a good person!'" 

Paul changes the subject.  I wonder if he was listening.  "Do you ever garden, you know, grow things from seeds?"

"Sure, well, not very often."  I admit.

"It's like this,"  Paul switched to his patient parent voice to explain. "There is a mystery here that is escaping you.  There is much more to this than you see on the surface."

"You are like a seed, planted by a master gardener. This life is the soil you grow in.  Later, looking back on it, you will be able to see what grew under the dirt, out of your little seed. If you look at it today, nothing seems to matter, but when your little seed sprouts, the beautiful thing that grows will live forever.  You may not get any respect now, but someday people will marvel.  You are weak now, but then you will be powerful.  Your body is just a natural body, of course you have sickness and aging to deal with.  Someday though, you will have a wonderful spiritual body so different from this one that you can't imagine it.  The first man was made of the stuff of earth, dust.  You are like him.  Someday though you will be like the man of heaven instead.   So, don't get discouraged.  Just wait.  You'll see."

As he walks away he gives me a parting word of advice.  "Beloved, don't give up.  Stand straight and tall and strong and refuse to give in to discouragement. Live the life the Lord has given you to live.  I promise you, your hard work is not a waste of time."  I nod soberly.  "Yes, sir.  I will remember that God is doing something good under the surface.  I won't give up."

"Good girl."  Paul gently pats me on the head and disappears.

See this conversation as it was originally told, in 1 Corinthians 15:42-49, 58.

Tales of the Restoration Part 1: Broken Walls and Burned Gates

God speaks to me in many ways. Frequently he directs my way with stories.  For almost a year now God has been teaching me about my own life through the fascinating story of Nehemiah.  
The events in Nehemiah fall into a season of Jewish history that my study bible labels, "The People of God in Restoration". Isn't it a hopeful title for an epoch in history, or for a season in life?  For some time now, my family has been in a season that could bear the same title.

Restoration implies that there has been some sort of destruction.  It may be sudden and traumatic, like the unexpected death of a loved one or a grievous breach of trust. Sometimes destruction happens through gradual erosion, as in the destruction wreaked by alcoholism.  Years ago evil breached the walls of my life.  By breaking my first marriage, it destroyed my home, scattered and wounded its inhabitants, tore down its walls, and set fire to its gates.  The stories of brokenness I hear in other people's lives can be eerily similar.  The youngest and the weakest members of the family are often the most wounded.   

Imagine the book of Nehemiah being like a dramatic play.   The central character is a man named Nehemiah, a middle aged Jewish man who holds a prestigious position in Babylon. His job comes with a lot of fringe benefits.  Nehemiah protects the king from poisoning.  In return, he wears luxurious clothes, consumes the best food and wine, and lives in the palace.      

The curtain opens.  Nehemiah and his Jewish brother, who recently arrived from Judah, are sitting in an isolated corner of the palace, catching up.  Nehemiah expects a glowing report from Hanani.  70 years after the destruction of Babylon people were finally allowed to return to their homeland to begin rebuilding a society.

Nehemiah innocently asks his companion how things are back home.  The answer is like a punch in the gut.  The reconstruction that began with such promise is in danger of collapsing back into the rubble from which it came. 

"The survivors there...are in great trouble and shame; the wall ...is broken down and its gates have been destroyed by fire." Nehemiah 1:3

Nehemiah reels as if he has been punched.  He sits down heavily and begins to weep.  Time passes.  Scene 2 opens on Nehemiah days later, eyes red and swollen, clothes hanging loosely on his thin frame.  He has been mourning, weeping, refusing food, and praying all this time.

I wonder if did Nehemiah regretted asking that polite, "how are things back home?" question.  If he did regret it, he didn't think it was worth mentioning.  He moved in the space of a comma straight to a higher throne room, fasting and praying before the king of heaven.

All restoration begins in that throne room.  He is the only one with the resources necessary for any restoration project.

Weak, but Indispensable!

I am inept at sports that involve a ball.  I have an eye condition that was originally identified by the P.E. teacher.  She knew there had to be some physical issue.  No one could have such terrible depth perception unless there was something wrong.  

My worst elementary school nightmare repeated itself every time we were forced to play basketball, volleyball, t-ball or any other game whose name ends in ball.  The two best kids were named team captains and they took turns choosing which of the other kids would be on their team.  I started to sweat right away.  The tall, strong, fast, athletic kids were chosen one by one.  Then the average, but not outstanding kids were chosen.  That left me and the one or two other uncoordinated, slow, or fat kids waiting to be picked.  Finally the other losers were reluctantly chosen and some unlucky team was stuck with me.  No one ever wanted me.  Why would they?  I was not an asset to the team.  In fact, try as I did to stay out of the way, I usually found a way to help my team lose.  It is still that way.  My family tries to be nice about it, but nobody, except my tenderhearted self-sacrificing husband, ever really wants me to play on their team, even when we are playing Wii with virtual balls.  I am pretty sure that I have never been indispensable to my team in any sport that involves a ball.

Fortunately for me, after elementary school, a person can pretty much avoid playing with balls if they try hard enough.

There are other kinds of weakness, though.  A few years into my first marriage, my world fell apart.  I was airlifted out of my chosen role as perfect wife and mother in the perfect Christian home and deposited into a barren desert world of broken family.  Once again I found myself to be the weakest.  All of my loudly spoken formulas for life and ideas about making life work were smashed. I felt like my failed marriage made me a detriment to my Christian brothers and sisters, kind of a loser on the team. I offered to resign from the board of the ministry where I served.

Fortunately for me, the Kingdom of Heaven is like a body and not like a sports team.

I have read 1 Corinthians 12 about how Christians of every race and rank make up one body many times.  Somehow I never really thought about the wonderful little verse sandwiched in the middle of the passage though.

On the contrary, the parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable.  I Corinthians 12:22

The human body has prominent, visible parts, and hidden interior parts.  It has beautiful parts and not so beautiful parts, but it doesn't have any spare parts.  Likewise, the body of Christ doesn't have a single unnecessary part.  The Bible calls me "indispensable".  Each of us, no matter what our story, is needed in the body of Christ.  Weak or strong, as long as I am connected to Jesus, the head, I am indispensable.

No Interference

Don't allow anything to interfere with your love for Jesus.  You belong to Him.  Nothing can separate you from Him.  That one sentence is important to remember.  He will be your joy, your strength.  If you hold onto that sentence, temptations, and difficulties will come, but nothing will break you.  Remember, you have been created for great things.  -Mother Teresa

'What must we do, to be doing the works of God?' Jesus answered them, 'This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent.' John 6:28 - 29

That's it.  No matter what is going on don't let anything interfere with your love for Jesus.  Trust Him no matter what.  What are you supposed to do?   Believe. 
 

Tiptoeing through Minefields Instead of Tulips

Living my life is often a lot like tiptoeing through a minefield.

There are dangers and hazards.  A word misspoken can set off an explosion that almost blows me in two.

I wish my life had followed the happily ever after story line I expected when I said "I do" at 19 years old.   I hate divorce.  It rips everyone involved in two.  It is embarrassing to be divorced, an obvious and glaring failure.  I feel like I am demoted to the rank of second class Christian the moment someone discovers that I am divorced.   I imagine I see it in people's eyes.  It is in that split second glance away that happens while they wonder what happened to my marriage, whose fault it was, and what lack of commitment or mental illness prevented me from being able to keep my husband in my bed.

My new husband is a tremendous gift from God to me.  I am so, so very thankful for him.  Being remarried does not erase divorce though.  It complicates everything instead.  Now I not only have my own scars, hypersensitive wounded areas, kids' pain, ex and his neurosis; I also have my husband's scars, his kids' pain, and his ex's neurosis to deal with.

I sometimes wonder.  Where did I get off track?  Where did I miss the road sign and turn left off the highway of God's wonderful plan for my life?
Answer:  I didn't.   Not that I haven't made mistakes, but that fact that the path of my life has minefields along it does not mean that I have been abandoned by God.

1 Corinthians 7:17 says, Let each person lead the life that the Lord has assigned to him, to which God has called him.

God's assignment for me includes hardship and pain.  It does not include making me stunningly-beautiful-covergirl of Perfect Woman with the Perfect Life magazine.  This is it.  The messy life I lead is my calling.

Mother Teresa once said, "If you are discouraged, it is a sign of pride because it shows you trust in your own powers.  Never bother about people's opinions.  Be humble and you will never be disturbed.  The Lord has willed me here where I am.  He will offer a solution."

That pretty much says it.  The years of battles have wounded my pride, but that is a good thing.  I can't trust in my own powers, the challenges are too much for me.  I can't bother about people's opinions, they don't walk in my combat boots.  As I tiptoe through minefields instead of tulips, I must trust God to guide me.  He has willed me here where I am.  He will offer a solution.   What a relief!  Maybe that is a tulip I see over there beside the path after all.

When I am Weak

If there is no struggle, there is no progress.  -Frederick Douglas

My son called this morning.  He was struggling.  He and I probed and wrestled with the issue.  Ever so gently, God, I think, led me to understand.  Some of the roots of his struggle stem from mistakes his father and I made when he was growing up.  At times Ethan* was too harsh, correcting his son out of his own rage.  I was too weak to stand up and make it stop.  Other times, I did harm directly.  I dealt with Cal's* normal teenage boy struggles out of my own pain instead of out of God's grace.  This morning I asked for his forgiveness with tears streaming down my face.  I am deeply sorry for my part in his pain.

Cal feels like he has to be perfect.  Intellectually he knows better, but to him, it feels like struggling equals being a failure.  This of course, is a lie from the pit.

I, on the other hand, do not really struggle with perfectionism.  In fact, just a dash more perfectionism in my personality might be healthy.  There is only one arena, where I always wanted to be, strove to be, thought I was, nearly perfect.  Parenting.

Now I see with razor sharp clarity that my parenting is far from perfect.  I am even a source of insecurities that continue to plague my son.  Even in my one area of strength, I am deeply flawed and weak.  My pride is wounded.  In fact, I have to acknowledge that I have no cause for pride at all.  

This morning I reminded Cal that it is good to reach higher, to stretch beyond the things we could easily grasp, even if this means that we struggle.  The struggle is a positive part of the process.  I want him to treat himself with grace.  That mini sermon is from God to me, too.

I must also receive God's forgiveness, and forgive myself for my failure.  I am so, so glad that God is bigger than my struggle.  He is big enough to take my sin and my failures on himself.  He has forgiven me.  He has even gone beyond forgiveness.  He has taken what was evil, what the evil one wanted to use to wreak havoc, and used it for good.  Right now, today, he is using it to strengthen.

I find it comforting that the apostle Paul went before me in struggling with weakness.  Maybe in Paul's case the weakness was a physical one rather than a failure, but the principle is the same.  God's power is made perfect in weakness.  He can use even "a messenger of Satan" for His good purpose.

...a thorn was given to me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to keep me from becoming conceited.  Three times I pleaded with the Lord about this, that it should leave me.  But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness."  Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.  For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities.  For when I am weak, then I am strong.  2 Corinthians 12:9  

So, I will confess my sins, acknowledge my failures, accept forgiveness, and learn to be content with weakness.  I will even join Paul and boast of my weaknesses.  "For when I am weak, then I am strong."

The struggle is a positive part of the process.

*Names have been changed to protect both the innocent and the guilty.

Dealing with Garbage and Exes

I am procrastinating.

I need to reply to an email from my ex-husband about money.  Discussing money with my ex is my least favorite thing in the world.  Discussions about money tend to deteriorate quickly into accusations and arguments.  We have wildly different viewpoints about what is fair.  He is a powerful negotiator, able to spin any situation to his advantage. I am a financial ignoramus.  I always wind up feeling like I have been verbally beaten up.  I hate discussing money with him more than I hate picking up dog poop.  I hate it more than I hate cleaning up vomit.  All I have to do is think about discussing money with him, and my shoulders contract into rock hard little knots; my head begins to ache, my stomach gets upset.  I am clearly too sick to do this now.  I will have to put it off until later...

Now that I am remarried I have not one "ex" to deal with, but two.  My husband and his ex-wife have established a better way of dealing with money than my ex-husband and I have, but they have other stuff to deal with.  From my perspective, she intrudes on our time with the children via cell phone.   She tries to tell Stuart how thoroughly he must do the kids' homework for them so that the teacher will think they are perfect students, and when to wash their clothes.  When a conflict arises between one of the kids and Stuart or me, she is always available to assure them that their dad and step-mom are wrong and she is the one who really loves them.

I hesitated to be fully honest here, for fear that my ex-husband and my husband's ex-wife might read this and think that I am trying to slander them in public.  That is not my intent.  To be fair, most of the time, to almost everyone, they are very nice.  Sharing precious children with an ex brings out the worst in all of us.  I am sure that either of them could talk for a long time about the excrement of dealing with Stuart and me.

People who are contemplating divorce and have a choice about whether to try to save their marriage or walk away, need to know this.  Divorce, if there are children in the picture, does not end a bad relationship; it merely changes it a bit.

The struggle with dealing with an ex is universal among divorced parents.  The temptation is to try to draw the child away from their other parent and toward yourself.  You have been hurt.  They do not deserve good treatment.  There are two problems with this thinking.  First it destroys the kids.  Second, it is wrong.  Revenge and reviling sure feel good at the moment though.

So, I am amazed and convicted when I read what the apostle Paul, who was dealing with loyalty issues of his own said, "...and we labor, working with our own hands.  When reviled, we bless; when persecuted, we endure; when slandered, we entreat.  We have become, and are still like the scum of the world, the refuse of all things." (1 Cor. 4:12)

What divorced parent couldn't relate to being reviled, persecuted, and slandered.  What divorced parent could not say "I am still like the scum of the world, the garbage of all things!"  This being so, Paul sets a very high standard.  I must not succumb to the temptation, or encourage my precious husband, to revile, persecute, slander.  For the sake of the kids we love, if not merely because it is the right thing, we have to learn to endure, entreat, and even bless the exes in our lives. 

Being the kind of person who would go to any length to run away from conflict, I think it is interesting that Paul did not say that when he is slandered he just shuts up, seethes with anger and takes it.  Nope, he "entreats".  His example does not give me permission to hide under the covers and hope the money discussion will go away.  Rats. 

So here is my prayer for my husband and myself, and anyone else trying to figure out what a godly relationship with the ex looks like.

Lord, give me the strength
                  to labor with my own hands,
                  to bless when I am reviled
                  to endure when I am persecuted
                  to entreat when I am slandered.  Amen