Of Steve, and Faith, and Dead Batteries

I sit down to write this post on my mac computer with my i-pod charging nearby.

Steve Jobs was undeniably one of the most influential men of our time. His death and the subsequent release of his biography has put him much in the national conversation lately. He was also merely mortal. A couple of days ago I read with interest his view of Christianity. Steve correctly identified the one thing that sets Christianity apart from every other religion, faith.  Then he rejected it.

He said, "The juice goes out of Christianity when it becomes too based on faith rather than living like Jesus or seeing the world as Jesus saw it ... I think different religions are different doors to the same house. Sometimes I think the house exists, and sometimes I don't. It's the great mystery." (http://www.businessinsider.com/best-steve-jobs-quotes-from-biography-2011-10?op=1#ixzz1c0EZhB3g)


Steve Jobs wanted Christianity to be just like every other religion, teaching people to do the right things, and have the right world view. He was put off by the fact that Christians don't try to work harder, do better, improve themselves. Faith seemed to him to be an abdication of responsibility. 

While Christians do want to live like Jesus and see the world as Jesus saw it, we know this is impossible without first being transformed by faith in Christ, righteousness from relationship. The apostle Paul said, "I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord...not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ." Philippians 3:8-9 ESV


Trying to "live like Jesus and see the world as Jesus saw it" without faith, would be like trying to dance to music on my i-pod when its battery is dead. 

Autumn Color

This time of year the leaves of the aspen trees that dominate the Colorado high country near my home change to brilliant gold.
The color lies hidden within the leaf all summer. When shorter days and cooler temperatures cause photosynthesis to cease, the green fades and the underlying color shines through brilliantly.

It is the same in my soul. When the days in my inner world grow shorter, and the green begins to fade, shifting from summer’s bloom to fall’s dying, I am always disappointed. I react as if something unexpected is happening. These difficult seasons are necessary though. They strip away pretense so that the core of my being, the beautiful redeemed part can shine through.

Jesus said, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.” John 12:24


 As winter approaches each year, I like to watch our large maple in the backyard begin to lose its covering of summer green and take on a funereal brown. As the leaves drop, one by one all of the irregularities and defects of the tree are exposed. The imperfections are always there, of course, but they have been hidden from my view by an emerald blanket. Now, however, it is denuded and desolate, and I can see its real condition. Winter preserves and strengthens a tree. Rather than expending its strength on the exterior surface, its sap is forced deeper and deeper into its interior depth. In winter a tougher, more resilient life is firmly established. Winter is necessary for the tree to survive and flourish.  -- Richard Foster, Prayer

Crushed, Beaten and Threshed

Dill is beaten out with a stick and cumin with a rod.  Grain is crushed for bread; he will surely thresh it, but not forever. (Isaiah 28:27b - 28 ESV)

My family loves to drink homemade chai. Loose leaf tea, water, lots of milk boil happily together on the stove, with one other key ingredient, cardamom. We take a few grains of the cardamom throw them in the mortar and crush them firmly with a pestle. Not much different, I imagine, than the way people have been preparing this spice for thousands of years. As the spicy aroma fills the air we toss the crushed grains into the pot and their delicious flavor infuses the whole brew.

Isaiah 28 uses spices and grains as an extended metaphor of God's work in our lives. Can't you just smell the dusty scent as it describes dill, cumin and wheat being prepared for use? In a couple of poetic verses, Isaiah outlines the ancient processes for preparing spices. Each spice or grain demands unique handling. Each spice or grain must be crushed, ground, beaten or threshed. For some, the process of taking it from raw grain to a substance ready to fill a kitchen with nourishing flavors, requires much patience.

I would like to say that the relational aroma of my chai spiced kitchen is always warm and spicy, enticing and delicious, but it is not. Now several years into our life as a step family we have yet to become the beautiful unified family I envisioned before the wedding. The day each week when my step kids transition from their mother's home to ours is almost always tense and difficult. They are cold, angry, rejecting, and distant. Hurt wells up in me unbidden, like some toxic waste of the soul. Conflicts are frequent and not always constructive.

I long for a perfect home where geraniums bloom, blue birds sing on the windowsills,  and honest warmth abounds. But although am am married to a terrific man, the perfect home of my imagination is still in the realm of myth. Life on this side of heaven involves hard times, conflict, and crushing pain. I often feel like I am the cardamom in the mortar and pestle. Crushed.

During such times, when hope is illusive. It helps me to remember two things: 1. the process of crushing doesn't last forever, and 2. the crushing is happening for a good purpose under the hand of my gracious God. He is releasing the flavor and aroma he planted deep in my being, preparing me for the delicious future he has planned from the beginning for me.

When I remember that, I can rest, sipping my chai, and waiting for the day when my time in the mortar and pestle will be complete.

To Be Like a Raindrop

For eight straight afternoons and evenings violent thunderstorms have possessed the sky over my house with terrifying beauty. The rain falls sometimes soft and silent, sometimes hard and gushing, singing a melody as it falls from the black clouds to nourish then disappear. The lightning bursts forth with pulsating power in its own time, unpredictable, always shocking the senses, nearly always followed by deafening thunder which shakes the very foundations. I watch these storms, letting all my senses absorb the show of power until the clouds move on to the east to expend themselves there.

I am reminded that my call in life is to be like one of those raindrops, always moving lower to nourish, then mysteriously to be invisibly lifted up by the son to do it again. Often I am called to move lower as relational electrical storms rage around me. Jesus said, "...whoever would be great among you must be your servant, and whoever would be first among you must by your slave, even as the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many." (Matt. 20:25)

Most often I fail in this call to give myself. I lack both the courage and the power to continually seek the low place the way a raindrop does.

Just last weekend I had a particularly bad time with one of my step kids and spent the next day busying myself as a way of avoiding him. It was at the end of that day that my stepdaughter sought me out to ask "How do you be so nice to B-- when he is so mean to you?" I almost laughed out loud at the irony of her timing. After a moment I mumbled, "I pray- a lot." I think God was trying to get my attention, again. The words that I heard come out of my mouth were to instruct me more than to answer her. I was reminded of a section in Hannah Hurnard's  wonderful feast of a book, Hinds Feet on High Places.

"Come, oh come! let us away--/Lower and lower every day, Oh what joy it is to race/ Down to find the lowest place ...it is only up on the High Places of Love that anyone can receive the power to pour themselves down in an utter abandonment of self-giving."

I pray that God will help me, and you too, climb to the "High Places of Love" with him and give us the "power to pour ourselves down in an utter abandonment of self-giving."

Mister Twister

These past two months have been a roller coaster ride of highs and lows, the death of a close family member on one hand, a two week long escape with my husband on the other. There have been more mundane, yet emotional twists and turns too. My high school daughter sat on a plane on the tarmac in Guatemala for hours while she missed her connecting flights and her chance to attend her own high school graduation the next morning seemed to slip away. Fortunately, the flight eventually took off, she was able to slide into one of the last 2 seats back that night, and even caught a few hours of sleep before donning her cap and gown.  My older daughter graduated from college the same month my youngest finished high school. Like a rider on the jerky old wooden "Mister Twister" ride at our local amusement park,  my emotions jerk back and forth from effervescent joy over the great accomplishments of my daughters, to a feeling of loss because of the inevitable changes ahead as they each begin a new stage of life farther away.

My step kids take turns swinging, without warning, from friendly to hostile and back again. My level of frustration climbs and falls wildly along with them. I feel a bit shaky after these crazy weeks, the way I feel when I get off a roller coaster somewhat exhilarated, but also a bit dizzy and nauseous.

Thank you for your patience as I have been away living my crazy life instead of thinking and writing about it. I hope to post on this blog biweekly through the rest of the summer. 

For now, I am here, firmly buckled into my seat in life, the twistiest, wildest, ride ever.

"Life shouldn't be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well-preserved body, but rather, to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly shouting, 'Wow! What a ride! Thank You, Lord!'" --Beth Moore

Apologies

I am not sure that apologies make riveting blog reading, but I feel compelled to write an apology to you anyway.

First, an apology for this apology. Generally, when a person feels compelled to explain their actions and attach them to an apology, it isn't a real apology. Maybe I am making excuses here instead of apologizing. Either way here is the reason I haven't posted much at all during the past few weeks.

In the past several weeks I have celebrated my oldest daughter's college graduation in California, and then immediately after our return, my younger daughter's high school senior awards events. At that same time, I was helping her prepare for a missions trip to Guatemala. She was in Guatemala when her grandmother and sister flew in for her high school graduation, and another close relative (she is technically my half-sister since she is my dad's adopted daughter, but she feels more like a niece since she is the same age as my youngest child, but all that is too complicated to explain here so don't even try to understand. The point is, we had more big celebrations going on.) Cassie almost missed her own big day since her flight home from Guatemala the day before graduation was cancelled due to all the severe storms in the mid-west. She made it home just in time to catch a few hours sleep and a shower before graduation. Her teacher and the rest of the group weren't so lucky. They "slept" in the Dallas airport that night and slid into their seats at graduation just after the graduates entered!

Then there was the double graduation party, and 5 trips to the airport that week, and my nephew's wedding in Estes Park...

In the early morning 36 hours after the wedding, my mother-in-law was found with no pulse. We spent a few hours saying goodbye to her in the hospital, and this week has been full of the sad business of grief.  So, though I'm making excuses, I have been unable to post regularly to this blog. Please forgive me. I will be away on vacation for the next couple of weeks.

Look for me to return to posting at least once a week after June 27. Thanks for your patience.

Beth

PS I wrote a bit about my own experiences with the death of a loved one on my other blog: thosewhosee.blogspot.com

Like a Robin...

There is a new robin's nest resting snugly in the aspen tree right outside our family room windows.  The nest is just below eye level so we can kneel backwards on our couch and watch the nest without disturbing the birds doing their bird things, just a foot or two away. Right now there are three little blue eggs in the nest.

We had a cold rainy weekend. For days the mother robin spread her wings to cover the nest as she huddled down over the eggs, rain dripping off her head and tail.

We grilled hamburgers Saturday evening, just a few feet away from the nest. Every time we lifted the lid on the grill, the startled mother bird left the nest, flew to the fence and issued a frantic string of robin obscenities. As soon as we disappeared back inside the house she'd be back on the nest. At the risk of over-anthropomorphizing, she seemed to me to be sitting there sulking.

I think I know how she felt. My stepdaughter had the kind of rough weekend sleep deprived, strong-willed, hormonal, early adolescents are prone to. Every few minutes something angered her, she fluttered away squawking about her own innocence, and the guilt of whoever offended her. Generally, it was me.  I, the "mature", hormonal, PMSing woman, responded by getting my own feathers ruffled. The main difference between us being that I spent the entire weekend making a less-than-successful attempt to do my own seething internally.

Now comes the part of the blog where I draw a nice neat little application, mix in an appropriate Bible verse, and tell you all how to avoid reacting to the pains and frustrations in your life the way mother robins, and I, react to our own pains and frustrations. I can't do it though. That would give the wrong impression that life is meant to be fixed, and if we just find the right formula, all will be well. Many, maybe even most Christians live that way, trying to use Christianity as an antidote to the icky-ness of life.

The truth is there is no Christian magic formula. Life is messy. No one gets through it without some pain. We hurt the people we love the most, protesting loudly that the other person is to blame. I realized at least momentarily, this weekend how very far I have to go before I reach maturity, before I am able to love God and my family the way Jesus loved. I have been told that brokenness is a necessary step toward maturity.  I certainly can't boast, not even boast that I have achieved brokenness.

I can say that it is a good thing that Jesus loves me just because of who he is, and I can rest in that.

Passionate Folly

I am reading the popular book, Eat, Pray, Love.  Right now I am with Elizabeth Gilbert meditating with her guru and Richard from Texas in an Ashram at an undisclosed site in India. I was drawn reading this because there are times when I would love to run away from home and travel around the world for a year. The book is subtitled "One Woman's Search for Everything Across Italy, India, and Indonesia". The author characterized her own quest as "spiritual investigation".  Elizabeth began her quest by spending four months in Italy, eating. I must admit that I am ever so slightly jealous. I can definitely picture myself devoting a full third of a year to eating Italian food. In Italy.

The problem is that Elizabeth Gilbert is on the wrong quest. 

The book made me sad. Not sad is in sorry for myself because I am not reading it over a cafe table in Venice, but sad for Elizabeth. Spiritual investigation is a noble pursuit, but I think she got on the wrong train. As I read, I wanted to gently tap Elizabeth on the shoulder, and tell her I think she missed the one thing that ultimately matters. I can't judge her, all of us, every human being ever, has made the same mistake.

Like kids on an Easter egg hunt we continually overlook the prize that is hidden in plain sight, and hunt where it can't be found.

John Piper, in a personal communication quoted in Larry Crabb's manual to his School of Spiritual Direction, called this syndrome the "treasonous pursuit of satisfaction from the wrong source".  All of us turn to something and demand that it satisfy, or at least numb, our thirsts. We want husbands who faithfully adore us, adventure, financial stability, good health, good looks, gelato, ... Don't get me wrong, these are all good things, but they make poor gods.

The old fashioned, out-of-style, modernly offensive word used to refer to the search for satisfaction in all of the wrong places is sin.  The prophet Jeremiah speaks for God in Jeremiah 2:13 "My people have committed two evils: they have forsaken me, the fountain of living waters, and hewed out cisterns for themselves, broken cisterns that can hold no water."

So, I must ask: where have I, in my thirst, strolled past the fountain of living waters in order to drink from a broken cistern that can hold no water? Have I searched for everything when I should have been searching for one thing, or more precisely one relationship instead?

A Friend to Friend Note to You

First, I would like to apologize for the significant gap since my last real post. I attended a week long conference on spiritual direction with author Larry Crabb and then flew to California for my daughter's college graduation.

The conference was rich. There were just thirty-one students gathered with Larry Crabb, his wife Rachel, and two spiritual directors at beautiful Glen Eyrie near Colorado Springs.  Dr. Crabb did not distance himself from those of us attending the conference, though he certainly could have blown us away with his impressive credentials, intelligence, and his superior spiritual maturity. Instead, he approached us openly and humbly, a man sharing the things he has learned and where he is currently on his journey. It was a rare opportunity for me to sit in the presence of greatness, to listen, learn, be challenged, and soak in wisdom from my remarkable fellow attendees.

We spent the entire week having "conversations that matter" and being challenged with the ways we obscure the truth and put things that should come second in first place, (more on that in a later blog).  I have so much to chew on from what I learned. I was convicted and challenged.

I thought I would blog during the free time that week, but I found myself so deluged by thoughts, and weary from the intensity, that I simply could not do it.  

Now I find myself wishing that I could sink into a comfy chair across from you with my hands wrapped around a comforting cuppa something delicious, and have a conversation that matters with you. I would like to hear where you are in your journey, share where I am, and see if we can encourage each other to focus on what really matters in the midst of it all, loving God with all of our hearts, souls, minds, and strength.

Is it possible to have a "conversation that matters" over a blog? Speaking too much and listening too little kills any good conversation, and that is the nature of this mostly one way form of communication, but I would like to try anyway. In the next days (weeks? months?) I would like to talk about where I am, what I am learning, and where I am stumbling and falling. Maybe there will be something in it that will resonate with you and encourage you on in your own journey.  I would love to have a two way conversation with you, so please comment back if you have thoughts to add, or would like to challenge me to see something that I seem to be blind to. Lets sit here, in the wilderness, together.

Beth

I will be away from the Blog for one more week. See you next week! Beth

Life is Like a Bowl of Zwieback

Until 2 years ago I thought that zwieback (I pronounced it zoo-E-back)was the hard dry toast you purchase at the grocery story in baby blue packages with a smiling little cherub on the cover. I remember giving it to my babies when they were teething, and acting very unlike smiling little cherubs. It was the consistency of a two by four so that the little angels happily could chew on it for hours, never breaking off a single chunk large enough to choke on, before it turned to mush.

In the intervening years I went through a divorce and spent years alone. When my second husband and I married a couple of years ago, rescuing each other from loneliness, celibacy, and single parenthood, I learned some important things. The rock hard stuff in the store is not real zwieback, and it is pronounced swee-baac.

Real zwieback is a tradition dating back so many generations that no one remembers when it started. Fresh baked zwieback is the lightest, softest, sweetest dinner roll ever.

Some brilliant cook invented Zwieback long before I was born and bread machines were invented. My mother-in-law, Marlene, is famous for making the best zwieback on three continents. She is suffering from Alzheimer's, so a few months ago she and my father-in-law invited me to her house to make zwieback with her so that she could pass on treasured generational zwieback secrets. I knew I was in trouble the minute she began warming the utensils we were to use. Making zwieback like hers is a science, requiring precision.  I am a terrible scientist.

This Easter I am making zwieback alone for the first time. Slightly intimidated by Marlene's reputation, I glanced at the recipe, and googled "scald milk". The Cooking-for-Modern-Clueless-Idiots website said that scalding milk began back when milk came from cows instead of from grocery stores. Heating the milk to near boiling killed dangerous bacteria and the enzymes that kept dough from thickening. The website said that scalding is unnecessary now in the days of pasteurization.  Scalding already pasteurized milk is probably a step we take just because it has always been done this way. It is like the story my mother tells. A woman learned from her mother that she should trim the ends off a roast before putting it in the oven. After years of doing this, she asked why this step was necessary. Mother didn't know, so she asked her grandmother. The sage old woman answered. "I always did that because the roast wouldn't fit in my pan!" I scalded the milk anyway, just in case.

I finished the delicate zwieback-made-with-scalded-milk dough mixing it gently in a warm bowl. Getting the right consistency required using more than 16 cups of flour even though the recipe calls for only 4 - 8 cups. It was written down by a person determined to make sure that no one attempting to follow it could possibly succeed.

I gently tucked the finished dough into a pre-warmed bowl, covered it with a fresh towel, and left it to rise in peace and quiet. It grew large, light, and baby soft. The recipe said to let the dough rise to twice its original size then "punch it down".  I obeyed. Laying aside all the earlier gentleness I used the cooking skills I acquired in kickboxing class throwing undercuts and right hooks at my beloved dough. After knocking all the air out of it, I walked away. The ball of dough recovered from its shock, and gradually struggled back up to its former fluffy glory, only to be punched down again. Three times. I felt for the poor dough. I related to it. It couldn't see my perspective or know that the times of being uncovered and punched down are as crucial for preparing it for its delicious destiny as the times of warmth and comfort.

As the scent of baking zwieback fills my kitchen, I realize that God is like an old-style cook. Sometimes He puts us in warm sunny windows to grow in quiet comfort. Sometimes he lets life knock all the air out of us, then seems to walk away. He does it repeatedly, and He does it because he loves us. There is a delicious destiny ahead for us.

That's it. Gotta go take soft golden brown zwieback from the oven.

Beth

This post can also be seen on my other blog, thosewhosee.blogspot.com.

Tales of the Restoration: When God Lets Things Fall Apart

I have a confession to make.
I get discouraged. Frequently. I think there are a couple of reasons for this discouragement.

1. My life is perpetually in a building or rebuilding mode. Here's the rub. What I am trying to build and what God is trying to build are often not the same thing. If I am assisting God to build, I can't fail. If on the other hand I am off on the side building my own little sandcastle, that is another matter.

2. I have a real enemy who really wants disrupt the building God is doing. He is quite good at disrupting.

This is all too much to discuss in one blog, so I will talk about the thoughts I have been pondering over the next couple of posts.

What I am trying to build: (Just for starters, this list could stretch on for pages, for miles, for a long, long time...)- Relationships that are happy and peaceful and intimate. -A family full of individuals who know and love God -A life of financial, physical, relational plenty - A ministry to people who need encouragement...

Here is the catch. Though those are good things to want, they are not the things God wants the most. He wants to form me (and you) into people who desire Him more than anything else. He wants us to know Him, love Him, and enjoy Him even more than he wants us to enjoy having strong families and happy, unselfish, healthy kids, and all that other good stuff. 

Sometimes God's work includes my happiness, peace, and fulfillment. I like those times a lot. Other times His work includes allowing a big wave to wash away everything I have been striving to build.  I don't like those times at all.

When my first husband shattered my world, I railed at God. God believes in strong Christian marriages doesn't he? He is strong enough to keep my family together, isn't He? How, then, could He just stand by and watch, as my marriage and family was reduced to rubble? As I panicked and prayed, wrestled and worked to save my marriage, I learned something very important. While God is pleased by strong relationships and healthy families, He sometimes uses even weak relationships and dysfunction to accomplish his greater purposes. He sometimes takes things Satan meant for evil and uses them for good.

I am very near sighted. Like a small child (or honesty here... a grown woman) who wants ice cream instead of vegetables, I want things that make me feel good now, instead of things that are wildly better long term. I often get distracted, and especially during shattering, painful seasons of life, I forget that I want to desire, know, love, and enjoy God more than anything.

The good news is God has planted his spirit in me and at my core my deepest desire is the same as his.

Philippians 1:6 (ESV) I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.

The Battle Cry of the Weakling (a paraphrase of Isaiah 50, Nehemiah 4, II Timothy 1)

The quarry from which I was dug has no sandstone. I’m hewn of flint, partnered with steel, sparks fly. I fan the flame, the spirit of power, of love, of self-control. Blazing arrow-taunts fly at me, “What does she think she is doing? She is a weakling, the job is colossal. She doesn’t have the resources or qualifications ...” I’m not shamed. Rescue is near. I set my face like flint and shout back, “Who’s next? You want a piece of me?” When my Evil opponent steps up I will wear him out like a rag, a gnawing little moth‘ll finish him off.  They shake their heads. “Lord help her.” They say. But see, he does. The Lord does help me.

Tales of the Restoration: Some Things are Worth Doing Badly

Just as ancient walls around a city protected its inhabitants, people have "walls", or boundaries, we use for protection. When skin is opened through a wound, infections can enter the body. When we are wounded relationally our protection is likewise damaged, and the enemy has easy access to our lives. He uses our wounds to infect us, to rule us, to keep us in trudging along as his good little slaves. He hates it when we rebuild, because if we succeed, he will not longer be able to breach our boundaries, and rule us. We will no longer be slaves, we will be free.
 
When we begin to rebuild, the enemy often attacks with words first. He attacks our strength. (See "Tales of the Restoration: Weakness") He also attacks our capability and spirituality.

When the Jews of Jerusalem began to rebuild their wall, their enemies, local leaders who enjoyed their de facto rule over Jerusalem, began taunting. "Now when Sanballat heard that we were building the wall, he was angry and greatly enraged, and he jeered at the Jews. And he said in the presence of his brothers and of the army of Samaria, 'What are these feeble Jews doing? Will they restore it for themselves? Will they sacrifice? Will the finish up in a day? Will they revive the stones out of the heaps of rubbish, and burned ones at that?' Tobiah the Ammonite was beside him, and he said, 'Yes what they are building--if a fox goes up on it he will break down their stone wall!' Nehemiah 4:1-3  ESV

When Nehemiah's enemies shouted their criticism of the capabilities of his building force, they were most likely telling the truth! The workers were a hodgepodge collection of people from every strata of society, goldsmiths, perfumers, merchants, rulers, temple servants, priests, and entire families including daughters.  Not a single person was specifically identified as a stone mason! "Archaeological evidence confirms that the walls were indeed of inferior construction...By and large the work of God in the world is not done by experts." (Michael Riley, The Spiritual Formation Bible commentary on Nehemiah)   

Nehemiah and his crew of non-professional builders threw up the city wall in record time. The fact that they were not qualified to do the work, did not keep Nehemiah from doing what God was calling him to do. What if Nehemiah had taken Sanballat's words to heart? What if he had said, "You know, he's right. Have you seen that section by the sheep gate? The stones aren't even straight. It won't be anything like Solomon's wall. We'd better back off and wait for real builders to do this." Fortunately Nehemiah did not allow the true, but malicious, criticism that he and his people were neither professionally nor spiritually qualified, to slow him down. He pressed on anyway.

I enjoy dabbling and have extensive experience doing a wide variety of things badly, so this idea doesn't bother me too much. On the other hand, "if it is worth doing, it is worth doing right" people will likely hate this thought. I stand by it. A good insistence on quality can be twisted into discouragement and an excuse to quit. Sometimes, in a season of restoration, God calls us to do things that are outside our training and skills, things we are not capable of doing as well as we would like. In the entire list of laborers in Nehemiah 3 only one group is criticized, the Tekoite nobles who "would not stoop to serve their Lord." (Nehemiah 3:5. ESV)

Blessings,
Beth

For background information about Nehemiah's story, see earlier blogs entitled Tales of the Restoration.

Tales of the Restoration: Weakness

But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, even the things that are not, to bring to nothing the things that are, so that no human being might boast in the presence of God. 1 Corinthians 1:27, ESV

I have been riveted by pictures of mountains of rubble caused by the earthquake and tsunami in Japan. I am saddened by their devastating loss. How will they ever rebuild? How will they even clear so much rubble? Sometimes life feels like that. The destruction is massive and we are not up to the task.

Our enemy, ever an opportunist, uses this discouragement. When Nehemiah began leading a massive rebuilding effort with inadequate resources and inexperienced builders, his enemies attacked with words instead of with weapons. "What are those feeble Jews doing?"

God is creative. Satan isn't. He is still using the same tactics thousands of years later. As soon as we begin rebuilding after a loss he begins attacking confidence. "What dd you think you're doing? You aren't strong enough, physically, emotionally, spiritually, relationally...to rebuild this huge mess."

If the enemy successfully shifts our focus to our own feebleness, he wins, because he is right. We are not strong enough to rebuild desolated lives.

The good news is, we are not the foremen of our own restoration and we are not building alone. I love Nehemiah's phrase "The good hand of my God was upon me". That changes everything. If the restoration project is our own, it is doomed to failure. If it is God's, the end product may look different than our blueprint, but it won't fail.

When the enemy paused to take a breath in the midst of hurling insults, Nehemiah resisted the urge to hurl insults back. Instead, like a bullied younger brother he turned to someone much stronger. He hid behind him begging, "Beat them up for me, God". It was true Nehemiah and his Jews were feeble. But God was not.

We are feeble. God is not.

If the enemy is whispering discouragement to you, saying you are too weak, turn to the good hand of your God. He has his hand on you. Truly.

Until next time,
Blessings,
Beth

For background information about Nehemiah's story, see earlier blogs entitled Tales of the Restoration.

The Pitfall of Success

This entry was also posted on my other blog, http://thosewhosee.blogspot.com

In an earlier blog I talked about the great sacrifices German pastor Dietrich Bonhoeffer made to try to stop the great evil of the Nazis. I wondered whether Bonhoeffer was discouraged when every effort failed. His participation in a plot to assassinate Hitler was rewarded with prison and eventual execution.

Evil continued to run free.

I am reading an excellent new biography of Bonhoeffer by Eric Metaxas. Indirectly, he answers my question. He says that Bonhoeffer was fascinated by the way people worship success. The book quotes Bonhoeffer in his book Ethics,

In a world where success is the measure and justification of all things the figure of Him who was sentenced and crucified remains a stranger and is at best the object of pity. The world will allow itself to be subdued only by success. It is not ideas or opinions which decide, but deeds. Success alone justifies wrongs done...

I find those words convicting and oddly comforting at the same time. I forget that I serve a savior who was crucified before he was resurrected, and calls me to be crucified with him. I am not sure that God cares as much as I do whether I succeed or fail. I think He cares only that through success or failure I love him with all of my heart, soul, mind and strength.

If you want to read more, here are the links to those earlier blogs:
http://doorinthewilderness.blogspot.com/2011/02/accepting-hardship-as-pathway-to-peace.html
http://doorinthewilderness.blogspot.com/2011/02/accepting-hardship-as-pathway-to-peace_10.html

Blessings,
Beth

Tales of the Restoration: Verbal Smart Bombs

Remember the old nursery rhyme "sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me"? Lies, all lies. Words are deadly weapons. When destructive words become lodged in our thoughts, they do great damage. Words can end a reconstruction project before it has really begun.

Rebuilding the wall around Jerusalem was just getting underway when Nehemiah's enemies began lobbing smart bombs at it. The bombs were insidious weapons constructed almost entirely of truth. Truth has explosive power. There was untruth too, subtle and silent, almost undetectable, just enough to penetrate, poison, and kill. Each verbal bomb was carefully aimed, and there was an entire arsenal of them.

Insults were aimed at the builder's strength, capability, and spirituality. He tried to discourage them by pointing out the enormity of the task and that their  resources were limited and inferior. He finished by sarcastically poking fun at the poor quality of the work they had already done.

"What are these feeble Jews doing? Will they restore it for themselves? Will they sacrifice? Will they finish up in a day? Will they revive the stones out of the heaps of rubbish, and burned ones at that?...Yes, what they are building--if a fox goes up on it he will break down their stone wall!" (Nehemiah 4:1-3)

Millenia later, the Enemy is still using the same weaponry. When Christians begin to restore and rebuild he tries to rob us of courage so that we will quit. Ironically, it is only because the project has every possibility of success that he attacks, attempting to convince us it is doomed to fail. 

More next time. Until then keep building!

Blessings,
Beth

Tales of the Restoration: Enemy Attacks

When enemies heard that Nehemiah and the Jews were rebuilding the wall they were livid.

That is what happens when you try to rebuild something. The enemy who tore it down in the first place, or the enemy who wants to invade won't like it.

It is no different if you are rebuilding a relationship or a family than it was rebuilding a wall. You have an enemy who enjoys the destruction. He wants to continue to have easy access in to your life to wreak more destruction. If you are rebuilding I think you can safely assume that someone won't like it.

It is important to know who your real enemy is. You may experience opposition from flesh and blood people, but they are not your real enemies. They have been taken captive by your true enemy. They may be tools in the hand of your enemy, but no human is your true enemy. Your true battle is against "the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. " (Ephesians 6:12, ESV)

More next time...

Tales of the Restoration: Stepmother Superhero

I have a new superhero.

There are plenty of examples of wicked stepmothers. Stepmother heroes are much more difficult to find, but I think I just stumbled across one.

Better yet, my new stepmom hero lived during the time of the restoration, the time I have been learning about, and using as a model.

When Nehemiah was cupbearer to the king, Artaxerxes was the king.  His father was Xerxes, the King Xerxes who made Esther queen.  That makes Esther Artaxerxes' father's wife -- his stepmother!

Listen the this quote from Halley's Bible Handbook, p235.
"Esther most probably was still alive, and an influential personage in the palace, when both Ezra and Nehemiah went to Jerusalem. Our guess is that we have Esther to thank for Artaxerxes' kindly feeling toward the Jews and his interest in having Jerusalem rebuilt."

Picture this, the mild mannered queen stepmother glides quietly along the passages of the women's palace. Few know that sweeping red cape she wears is not merely the royal garb of a queen, it marks her as SUPER STEPMOM! In her role as Super-Queen-Stepmother she changes the course of history, again.

We don't have proof that Esther was the behind the scenes force that moved the powerful hand of the king, but she very well might have been. Nehemiah chapter 2 makes a point of mentioning that the queen was sitting beside the king when Nehemiah asked for leave to go the Judah. Could it be that the older queen Esther was tutoring her young successor in the art of moving the hand of a king? If so, the young queen learned her lesson well. Maybe she took a lesson from Esther, when she diverted the king's attention away from the weighty political issues associated with helping a troublesome ancient enemy rebuild the wall around their city. It was simple. All she had to do was whisper in the king's ear, "ask Nehemiah how long he will be gone". Maybe.

Maybe Esther didn't say a word. Maybe her Jewish identity combined with her winsome personality were enough to give the King a positive feeling toward the Jews and want to help them, reversing the edicts of earlier Persian monarchs. Probably Esther never even realized the full extent of the impact she had. Wouldn't it be great to sit down for tea with queen Esther in Heaven and ask her to tell the whole story, now that she knows it, complete with the details women crave?

No matter how she did it,  I love the idea that Esther's influence extended well beyond the events in the book of Esther, into her stepson's life, and cleared the way for the rebuilding of the wall in Jerusalem.

It is too soon to know what influence we will have. We may never know how our modeling impacts the generations that follow us and influences the choices they make. Our job is to be the simple people God calls us to be in the life he gives us to live.

Futility

fu-tile/ˈfyutl, ˈfyutaɪl/ Show Spelled[fyoot-l, fyoo-tahyl] 

–adjective

1. incapable of producing any result; ineffective; useless; not successful (definition from dictionary.com)

 

 

Futility was one of the evils that rushed into human lives as soon as man sinned in the Garden of Eden. Every human feels ineffective, useless or not successful sometimes. Work feels futile. Trying to restore a relationship feels futile. Parenting rebellious kids feels futile. 

 

Sometimes I think the role of stepmother is a synonym for futile.

 

Step-moth-er  

-noun 

1. a person who is ineffective, useless, not successful

 

As a stepmother I care deeply about my stepkids. I want to be able to nurture them. They are fiercely loyal to their mother, though. In some ways this is good. But, many of my efforts to draw close to them are rejected. Out of loyalty to her, they have erected defensive walls between themselves and me. It is hard to give a tender hug through a thick cement wall. 

 

So, my role is to cook/ clean/ drive/ entertain/ dispense money on demand/ and stay out of their way. They don't believe that correcting them or telling them what to do, is part of the stepmom job description. 

 

From their limited perspective, I came to this party uninvited.

  

The Bible tells the story of another woman who came to a party uninvited. She was a prostitute. She took a valuable vial of perfume and poured it over Jesus' head. The rest of the guests, especially Jesus' closest associates were horrified. "What a waste!" They scolded. But Jesus silenced them. "She has done a beautiful thing." He went on to explain, "She did what she could when she could..."  (Mark 14:3-9 The Message)

Referring to this passage, Joy Sawyer, in her book The Art of the Soul says, "...the real question is not what we're doing, but the art of how we're doing it. Do we do 'what we can, when we can'? In other words, are we pouring out the most costly essence of our souls on the person of Christ? If so, he will live in and through our lives. We share the joy of knowing the story of our 'wasted lives' will definitely not be wasted."

 

The enemy of our souls would love to convince us that the hours we spend loving Christ by pouring ourselves out are wasted. The enemy wants us to stamp "futility" in big red letters all over our efforts, give up, and walk away. But that would be a mistake. Jesus sees the ways we pour ourselves out. He thinks they are tremendously valuable.

 

^"With all this going for us, my dear, dear friends, stand your ground. And don't hold back. Throw yourselves into the work of the Master, confident that nothing you do for him is a waste of time or effort." (I Corinthians 15:58 The Message)  

 

 

Accepting Hardship as a Pathway to Peace, continued

Recently, my curiosity was peaked when I learned that there was a connection between the author of the often quoted, cross-stitched, and hung on the wall, Serenity Prayer, and Dietrich Bonhoeffer. Last week I shared some of the lessons Bonhoeffer is teaching me by example so many years after his death. Today I share a few more.

The Serenity Prayer

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference. Living one day at a time. Enjoying one moment at a time. Accepting hardship as a pathway to peace. Taking, as Jesus did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it. Trusting that You will make all things right If I surrender to Your will. So that I may be reasonably happy in this life and supremely happy with You forever in the next. Amen 
Reinhold Niebuhr

It seems to me that the words of the serenity prayer could be used as an excuse to be passive and concentrate on personal happiness. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a friend of the author of the prayer, did not live passively or for his own comfort. 

He did not choose to accept the advance of the Third Reich across Europe as I would have, a thing "he could not change". Instead he chose to believe that one young German pastor could make a difference against the Nazi machine sweeping Europe. He made the courageous decision to leave his safe seminary post in New York, and return to his native Germany to do what he could. 

Conscience led this Christian pastor to stand against the rush toward Nazism among his colleagues, make tough ethical choices, and accept the consequences. He opposed the weakness of the German protestant church. He broke away totally when the church adopted policies that excluded Jews from becoming members, even if they had been baptized, and helped found the Confessing Church which stood against Nazism. As he witnessed the suffering of the German people, Jews throughout Europe, and among the allied nations, Bonhoeffer's pacifist views receded further. He became a double agent and participated in a plot to assassinate Hitler. The plot failed and he was imprisoned for his efforts.

I wonder how Bonhoeffer felt during the first hours after his arrest. Did he indulge in a few hard earned moments of self pity? He had abandoned safety in order to fight evil. But at that hour, Hitler was still alive and well, wrecking havoc. 

 

He had acted according to his conscience, but in ways that were contrary to his earlier beliefs, and his efforts had failed. During those hours it must have seemed like evil would triumph. Did he struggle to do as the prayer suggests, "Trusting that You will make all things right If I surrender to Your will" Did he doubt the goodness of God? It must have seemed like all of his sacrifice was for naught. Did he regret choosing to suffer alongside his people? Remarkably, what he said indicates the opposite, that he thought he should have done even more.

“First they came for the Communists, but I was not a Communist so I did not speak out. Then they came for the Socialists and the Trade Unionists, but I was neither, so I did not speak out. Then they came for the Jews, but I was not a Jew so I did not speak out. And when they came for me, there was no one left to speak out for me.” Bonhoeffer

A fellow prisoner, British officer Payne Best recalled Bonhoeffer during those dark days in prison while he was awaiting execution.

"Bonhoeffer was different, just quite calm and normal, seemingly
perfectly at his ease... his soul really shone in the dark desperation
of our prison. He was one of the very few men I have ever met to whom God was real and ever close to him"

Best also said, "Bonhoeffer always seemed to diffuse an atmosphere of happiness, of joy in every small event of life, and deep gratitude for the mere fact that he was alive."

Apparently Bonhoeffer's awareness that God was "real and close to him" was enough to give him the strength to be "reasonably happy in this life" even in a Nazi prison after being sentenced to death.

He was executed in April 1945 just 3 weeks before the Nazis surrendered.

I have never faced anything so evil or overpowering as the Nazi machine. My circumstances are infinitely easier Bonhoeffer's, yet I think I can learn from his example. I can learn to shine even in times of dark desperation, because God is real and close. I can maintain joy in every small event in life even though the battle goes on.

May you be surrounded by the real and close God today,

Beth

Gold and Clay

Today I want to share a little wisdom from a century past. It comes from a book I am reading. The book, Aunt Jane of Kentucky, first published in 1907, is a collection of feel good stories about people in rural Kentucky. The narrator, Aunt Jane, weaves delightful tales, full of fun and the occasional word of wisdom gleaned over a long lifetime. Today, I share one of her best tidbits.

"...part of that sermon stayed by me all my life. He preached about Nebuchadnezzar and the image he saw in his dream with the head of gold and the feet of clay. And he said that every human being was like that image; there was gold and there was clay in every one of us. Part of us was human and and part was divine. Part of us was earthly like the clay, and part heavenly like the gold. And he said that in some folks you couldn't see anything but the clay, but that the gold was there, and if you looked long enough you'd find it. And some folks, he said, looked like they was all gold, but somewhere or other there was the clay, too, and nobody was so good but what he had his secret sins and open faults...and that the thing for us to do was to look for the gold and not the clay in other folks. For the gold was the part that would never die, and the clay was jest the mortal part that we dropped when this mortal shall have put on immortality." -Eliza Calvert Hall in Aunt Jane of Kentucky

Most of us need to learn the art of finding the clay-hidden gold in difficult people in our lives. Sometimes, we also need to acknowledge that people who look like they are all gold still have clay in them too.  Always, we need to remember that in the end, the clay will drop away but the gold will last.

Blessings on you today as you pan for gold,
Beth

Accepting Hardship as a Pathway to Peace

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, Courage to change the things I can, And wisdom to know the difference. Living one day at a time; Enjoying one moment at a time; Accepting hardship as a pathway to peace; Taking, as Jesus did, this sinful world As it is, not as I would have it; Trusting that You will make all things right If I surrender to Your Will; So that I may be reasonably happy in this life And supremely happy with You forever in the next. Amen 
Reinhold Niebuhr

A few months ago I mentioned the serenity prayer. Recently I discovered a connection between its author and a hero of mine.

The author of the prayer, was a theologian named Reinhold Niebuhr. In his seminary classes, during the first years of the American great depression, he taught a brilliant young student from Germany. That student, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, returned to Germany in 1931. Before long, darkness gathered. Hitler rose to power, moved against the Jews, began to control the Christian church in Germany, and prepared to sweep over Europe. 


In 1938, war was imminent and Bonhoeffer, still only 32  years old, faced a good possibility of being conscripted into the German army. Refusal would have meant death. He escaped in time, accepting a teaching post at his old seminary in New York.

I can imagine jet-lagged Bonhoeffer's sleepless nights as he began to settle into life in New York. Mental battles must have raged within him. He had chosen to sit out the war in the quiet safety of a seminary professor's office and avoided the dangers of battling the great evil strangling his beloved home country. 

But, in Niebuhr's words, was this a situation that required serene acceptance or courageous action? 


Most people would have whispered a grateful prayer and settled into the seminary professor's office. After all, how could one young Christian pastor change the course of cataclysmic evil sweeping the world?

Dietrich Bonhoeffer was not most people though. After just three weeks in New York he returned to Germany, "accepting hardship as a pathway to peace".

He wrote to Niebuhr: "I have come to the conclusion that I made a mistake in coming to America. I must live through this difficult period in our national history with the people of Germany. I will have no right to participate in the reconstruction of Christian life in Germany after the war if I do not share the trials of this time with my people... Christians in Germany will have to face the terrible alternative of either willing the defeat of their nation in order that Christian civilization may survive or willing the victory of their nation and thereby destroying civilization. I know which of these alternatives I must choose but I cannot make that choice from security." 

What courage it must have taken leave New York and stand with the German people as they faced that terrible alternative!

My daily battles are so small and insignificant in comparison to the ones faced by Bonhoeffer. Yet even my little life sometimes presents me with a choice between safe retreat and the courage to choose hardship as a pathway to peace. 

Only Jesus could give Bonhoeffer that courage. Only Jesus could give us that courage.

More next time...

Tales of the Restoration: The Hidden Reality

Nehemiah 2:8

The cacophony chatters, rings, confuses,
What Good comes of taking all these bruises?
Grasping Hand-holds in the hardened cliff
Slipping stones Of sadness, oh faithless heart, what if?
Reality deceiving, My senses false, but
Gaze at unseen things, God sings silent melodies
Texture of the immaterial; Is that the scent of You?
What whisper hidden, rode Upon the wind?
                                          Touch Me!

The Crazy Quilt of Life

Did you ever think, child...how much piecin' a quilt's like livin' a life?...You see, you start out with jest so much caliker; you don't go to the store and pick it out and buy it, but the neighbors will give you a piece here and a piece there, and you'll have a piece left every time you cut out a dress, and you take jest what happens to come. And that's like predestination. But when it comes to the cuttin' out, why you're free to choose your own pattern. You can give the same kind o' pieces to two persons, and one'll make a "nine-patch" and one'll make a "wild-goose chase," and there'll be two quilts made out o' the same kind o' pieces, and jest as different as they can be. And that is jest the way with livin'. The Lord sends us the pieces, but we can cut 'em out and put 'em together pretty much to suit ourselves, and there's a heap more in the cuttin' out and the sewin' than there is in the caliker. -Eliza Calvert Hall, Aunt Jane of Kentucky 

A quilter making a crazy quilt gathers scraps of fabric of various colors and textures; dark, medium and light colored fabrics in pleasing proportions. The scraps are stitched together in a way that seems random, but isn't. The pieced quilt is embroidered with fancy stitches using scraps of different threads and ribbons. In the hands of a skillful quilter, the finished piece is an astonishingly beautiful work of art.

I am so thankful for the various life-fabrics God has given me. The dark shades, added during the difficult times, are essential to the overall design. My life-quilt wouldn't be as rich without them.  God gives me the pieces, but I choose how to cut and embroider each piece. I think his big hand is cupped over my small one, helping guide the needle and thread, but I feel like I am stitching it together myself.

The quilt of my life is not a nine-patch with straight lines and square corners. My life is a crazy quilt. Crazy and beautiful.




 

Kindling Torches vs. Holding Hands

Let him who walks in darkness and has no light trust in the name of the Lord and rely on his God. Isaiah 50:10

As I write these words I can still hear the voice of my mentor years ago. She patiently listened to me complain for hours about the fact that I had no idea what to do about my messy life.

"That is so good!" She said, her eyes shining with happiness. "You are right where God wants you."

I was, and often still am, the person who walks in darkness and has no light. Anger, disrespect, or conflict erupts between me and my stepkids and I have no idea what to do.

The wise counsel in Isaiah 50:10 is followed by a contrasting scenario and a stern warning.

Behold, all you who kindle a fire, who equip yourselves with burning torches! Walk by the light of your fire, and by the torches that you have kindled! This you have from my hand; you shall lie down in torment. Isaiah 50:11

Isn't that what we do? We find ourselves in a dark place, unable to see the way out. Our natural instinct is to immediately equip ourselves with a burning torch and grope our way out of the problem. This is not God's way. Instead we ought to refuse the urge to kindle a torch by grabbing onto a quick solution, and instead choose to rely on God in the dark. 

I still find myself kindling torches, and stumbling around in the dark.
I want to get better at reaching for God's big hand to guide me through instead.

The Good News About Disappointment

A dark cloud of despondency lingered over our house for a day or two this week. Most of the members of my family were feeling a little blue. To be honest, some of us were feeling more deep indigo blue than lightly sky blue. I am not completely sure if the mood was an after effect of eating too many rich and sugary foods and exercising too little, or if it came from something deeper. Probably it was a combination of things, the ways the holidays touch old hurts caused by the destruction of two families, and the ways those holidays reveal that our blending family is not yet one whole instead of pieces of two in one household. 

On blue days I am tempted to sink in a mire of self pity and "if-onlys". I reason that the presence of disappointments and longings in my soul means that I must find a solution. Fix things. I must find that one piece to the puzzle that would make my life complete. This is a lie, and I have to recognize the evil voice that whispers it in my ear.

The truth is, every human being carries disappointments and unmet longings. I think God lets this happen for a purpose. He knows that if we were able to find deep and lasting satisfaction from our possessions, our pursuits, or our relationships, we would not be driven to the only thing that ultimately matters. Our disappointments actually give us the most precious gift.

John Eldredge says it this way: "Everyone has a cross to bear. Everyone. It serves to remind us every day that we cannot make life work the way we want. We can't arrive. Not completely. Not yet. If we'll let it, the disappointment can be God's way of continually drawing us back to himself. I know that I face a choice. I can feel it down inside, and I watch it take place in my heart. I can let my disappointments define my life. Or I can let them take me back to God, to find my life in him in ways I have not yet learned. The rest remains a mystery. But this is enough to know."