Rules for Relationship

  Christmas seems to juxtapose the holy and the hectic, gratitude and grumbling; reflective worship and stressful frenzy.  I so desperately want to keep my focus on the gift of Christ.  Yet Jesus drifts to my periphery while demands and tasks occupy my focus.  I'm a first born "Martha" who works like crazy in the kitchen, doing all the responsible stuff and resenting those who seem so nonchalant, relaxed. . . and unhelpful!!  Yesterday was Christmas Eve and my prayer from the moment I woke up was "Jesus, let me worship.  I have a mountain of work to do, but let me worship You even as I work.  Let me not succumb to stress and driven-ness."

      But, there is a crazy prerequisite to worship and that is repentance.  I suspect that my reluctance to worship is rooted in the my reluctance to repent.  You see, even though I want to worship Jesus, there is something that I love more than Jesus:  my rules.   Although grace has freed me from the rules of religion, I am still imprisoned by the rules for relationship that I have created for myself.  Ironically, these rules are never more apparent than at Christmas!  Somehow that toxic mix of family togetherness, expectations and busy-ness often brings more disappointment than joy, anger than gladness, isolation than intimacy.

     My rules are subtle and seem justifiable, and not easily recognized.  But, when anger and judgementalness rear their ugly heads, I can follow their trail and find they originate in my rules for relationship.  Here is just a sampling:  "It must be nice for ________ to sit and watch t.v., while I have been on my feet all day."  "Why am I the only one working?"  "After all I've done, not a single person has said thank you."  "I'm just a commodity -- people only value me for what I do."  "I can't believe how selfish _______________is!"

      I don't think my rules are unreasonable.  (Don't all reasonable people keep these same rules?!)  But, when these rules are broken, even inadvertently, by those close to me, I explode or escape.  Sadly, those closest to me experience my anger as I try to shame them into living by the rules.   But just as ugly is when I am silent.  I retreat with my "friends" self-pity, resentment and cynicism.  I isolate myself and let my heart shrivel under the urging of my false friends.   I choose the seeming safety of self-protection and withdrawal, but it is death to my heart.  I am imprisoned by my rules. 

     I need to be rescued.  And THIS is the essence of Christmas:  Jesus came to rescue me. . . from my failures, my hurtfulness, my sin AND from my rules.  Jesus came because rules are not enough.  The Ten Commandments could not save the Jews and my "rules for relationship" cannot save me.  Paul says it so clearly when he writes to the Romans:

      "Therefore no one will be declared righteous in his sight by observing the law (RULES!); rather 
       through the law we become conscious of sin.  But now a righteousness from God, apart from law, 
       has been made  known to which the Law and the Prophets testify.  This righteousness from God 
       comes through faith in Jesus Christ to all who believe. . . . for all have sinned and fall short of the 
       glory of God, and are justified  freely by His grace through the redemption that came by Christ 
       Jesus."  (Romans 3:  20-24)

     I think I like living by my rules, because it makes me feel in control.  I get angry when my rules are broken, because I'm not in control.  To repent and receive grace is to lose control.  It feels like jumping out of a plane without a working parachute.  Such helplessness seems crazy, ill-advised, foolish!  But I am never jumping alone.  Jesus is taking the jump with me and guiding me to a safe landing.
      So on Christmas Eve, as my heart was filled with a the pressure of "things to do" and a litany of injustice done to me, I felt Jesus pulling me out of the plane.  I didn't want to repent, but I did want to worship.  I wanted to exchange my critical spirit and anger, for joy and peace.  And Jesus so kindly replayed for me how I constantly violated His rule of love.  Simply by judging others, I was a rule-breaker.  I repented -- "Jesus I am sorry.  Show me how to love.  Show me how to serve without expectation."  I jumped out of the plane and landed in a sweet place of worship.

    And it occurs to me that Jesus not only came to save me from my rules, but He came in a way that broke all of the rules.  It wasn't fair that He  had to come to earth to save people who had repeatedly turned their back on God.   He didn't deserve being born into a poor Jewish family in a barn.  He didn't deserve the scorn of religious leaders and the rejection by so many people.  Ultimately, he didn't deserve death.  But Jesus loved mercy more than justice.  He broke the rules, so I could have a forever relationship with God.  The realization makes me want to worship again and again.  I'll keep jumping out of the plane of my safety to know a God who loves me that much.

       "Joy to the World, the Lord has come;
        Let earth receive her king;
        Let every heart prepare Him room;
        And heaven and nature sing, and heaven and nature sing,
        And heaven, and heaven and nature sing.

        He rules the world with truth and grace
        And makes the nations prove.
        The glories of His righteousness
        And wonders of His love, and wonders of His love
        And wonders, wonders of His love."

Miracle Moments

     It is a miracle when a bad day ends well. 
     Yesterday morning I exchanged my agenda for God's.  I asked Him to help me be intentional with my kids, to help me love them well and pursue their character over completion of school (although the two often go together).  Evidently, this was an invitation to let all sorts of disruptions and craziness into the day.  While there issues all around, Graciela was the biggest source of angst.    The simple goal of helping her use her words and not cry for what she wants, became a herculean task (mind you, she is six!!).  It seemed the more patient I was with her, the more emotionally explosive she became.  Every task was met with resistance and tears.  Even the most innocuous situations, evoked anger and accusation from her -- "everyone is making me cry!"
     The first miracle was that I didn't follow my natural impulse of yelling at her.  Patience is always a miracle for me.  By the end of the day I felt like I'd been home with a crying infant all day -- that kind of exhaustion that leaves you moving like a robot with no energy for emotion.  I was glad, no eager, to leave at 5:30 to take Joshua to basketball practice!  And despite the cumulative fatigue, I pulled on some workout clothes and ran around the track while Josh practice.  I exchanged my emotional fatigue for physical fatigue and somehow I felt better.
     When I came home, the demands ensued.  Graciela didn't want to go to bed.  She wanted to print a picture off of the computer.  No, I couldn't do it for her in the morning.  She didn't like my pictures.  She wanted it now.  Why wouldn't I print the picture?  Could she just color one before bed. . . . ad nauseum.  Every impulse in me just wanted to throw her in bed, turn off the lights, close the door and RUN!!  But, God showed up with another deposit of patience.  Books were read, prayers were said.  And then Graciela pierced my heart. . .
     "Mommy, why did the babies die in your tummy?"  Sometime in recent months, Graciela had learned that I had miscarried three babies at different times.  Gracie is passionate about babies and of course this stirred her tender heart.  But, we had never had this conversation.  "Were they sick?  What were their names?  Do you miss them very much?"  Her sweet face was so earnest and compassionate.  And I was struck by the inexplicable mercy of God.  Graciela was here with us, because Baby Hope had died.  One life exchanged for another.  Death bringing life.  Pain giving way to joy.  A baby living a thousands of miles away, born of another mother, miraculously brought to us. 
     At the end of a bad day, God reminded me.  Pain is always redeemed in the story He is writing.  Good can come of tragedy.  And mercy is always raining down on us, even when we don't see it.  A bad day and a good God who can speak to a tired mom through the words of a six year old.