Tired Women

         Last week everywhere I turned, it seemed like I was looking in a mirror. I was seeing Tired Women and hearing in their voices the strain of living a too-large-life. These women were smart, organized, super-responsible. All were married and had kids. Some were balancing a career. Some were homeschooling. But all were carrying tremendous weights, pulled in a multitude of directions everyday. Each time I would listen to them and find myself  saying, “How do you do all that you do?” And each time a small voice inside of me would echo the question back to me: “How do you do all that you do?” To listen to another person talk about working a job, shuttling kids to activities, cooking, doing laundry, helping with schoolwork, serving at church, reaching out to neighbors, caring for sick parents. . . it seems crazy. How can one person do so much? How can other people (the not-so-ultra-responsible types) stand by and watch the Tired Woman carry so much? Why do others not help?

        Perched outside of someone else's life, I can assess and advise. But living inside my own story of weighty responsibility and chronic over-extension, I know it is hard to live any differently. My own compassion seems to have betrayed me and taken me prisoner. I care deeply. Compassion is a beautiful, God-given quality. But when it operates as an independent agent, even Compassion can be a cruel dictator.

My friend has cancer. She is illiterate and sub-functioning in this country. Her adult children are not caring for her in a consistent way. I sacrifice my time to manage her meds, arrange transportation to doctor's appointments and often accompany her. That is compassion. That is faith, I think.

Or is it fear? Fear that something bad will happen if I'm not involved. Fear that I will “be a bad friend” if I'm not on the front lines of advocating for her?. Fear that if I am not reflecting the love of Christ to a broken world, someone might not find Jesus?   Fear of who I will become if I do not respond to the reflex of compassion?

The ugly underside of this responsible, compassionate woman is that I am angry and resentful. These are not the fruits of living out of faith. These are the fruits of living out of my flesh. I want to scream to the people I serve, “Why can't you take more responsibility for yourself? Why do you depend on me so heavily? Why do I sacrifice for you and yet you live selfishly?   It is not just with my Liberian friend. This is the internal dialogue with my children, my husband and sometimes my friends.

I know I live out of my flesh, because when there is no thanks or worse, complaint, indignation rises up inside of me. How dare you? Look at what I have done! Compassion morphs into a critical, callous spirit. I want to run. I want to shed myself of all responsibility. Some days I just want to stay in bed and never answer my phone again.

Can a soul be sick from too much caring? It seems like compassion has mutated into some beast that brings destruction more than life. What is the anecdote? Where is the cure?

I read an old-time favorite verse in Galatians 5:1 “For freedom Christ has set us free; stand firm therefore and not not submit again to a yoke of slavery.” I think of Christ freeing me from bad behaviors – lying, impatience, selfishness, a critical spirit. Is it possible that Christ wants to free me from my strengths as well? Do I need to be freed from compassion and responsibility?

Paul is writing to the Galatians who have embraced Christ, but who are also telling each other to be circumcised. Circumcision is a good thing. It has been a long-standing tradition of Jews – a sign given by God to mark His people. And yet, Paul is telling the Galatians to stop it: “I testify again to every man who accepts circumcision that he is obligated to keep the whole law. You are severed from Christ, you who would be justified by the law; you have fallen away from grace.” (5:3,4) Resting on traditional virtue is actually an impediment to walking with Christ. Could my compulsive compassion actually separate me from the grace of Christ?

“For through the Spirit by faith, we ourselves eagerly wait for the hope of righteousness.” The Spirit stops me. The Spirit prompts me to wait. This seems passive. It seems like an excuse. How do I “wait” when people need me? And how do I wait eagerly?

It is passive. I am to be waiting for righteousness. I am not to be working it out. I am not to be constructing righteousness in my own life, even with a foundation of compassion. The truth is compassion is a faulty foundation. That is why my “good works” are fraught with anger and resentment.

“For in Christ Jesus neither circumcision nor uncircumcision counts for anything but only faith working through love.” I guess I could also say, “. . .in Christ Jesus neither compassionate works or no compassionate works counts for anything. . .” It seems so counterintuitive. It is hard to discard a very fundamental Christian virtue. This is where I get stuck over and over again. It seems un-Christlike. But anything that I depend on for my identity more than Christ, ceases to be a virtue. Compassion-apart-from-Christ, becomes a spiritual godzilla that destroys.

“For you were called to freedom, brothers. Only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love serve one another.” Christ wants to free me from the prison cell of Compulsive Compassion. Ironically, the fruit will be serving others in love. But right now, I am called to wait, to refrain from what seems most natural, to sink myself to God's love for me and the movement of His Spirit. My brand of compassion must die, so that Christ might grow in me His Compassion. It feels like death. But I suspect it is really the path to life and freedom.

Passion

   
     Passion is a nice student, but an overbearing teacher.  Passion is a beautiful child, but an unfit parent.  Passion is a lovely backdrop, but a center-stage disaster.  Passion is beautiful walls, but a lousy foundation.
     Passion brings color to my days and puts wind in my sails.  It inspires me and propels me forward.  It breaths hope and joy into life.
    But given too much power and  passion becomes a cruel taskmaster.  Passion puts me on  a chain and pulls me places I don't want to go.  One moment, I am happy, excited, in control.  The next moment, I am overwhelmed and despairing.  One moment, I am moving fast.  The next moment I am dead in my tracks.  I do not control my choices.  I have let passion take charge and the result is sure disaster.  Life presents a challenge.  Passion says, "You can't do this.  Don't even try."  And I despair.  People don't cooperate with me or treat me poorly.  Passion says, "You don't deserve this."  And I am angry.  Passion says, "People don't really like you."  And I am insecure.
     When passion is given supremacy, I am dropped down as easily as I am picked up.  I am jerked from joy to dismay with the click of a circumstance.  Passion becomes a prison that I feel incapable of escaping.  The gift becomes a curse.
      How can passion be restored to its rightful place in my life?  An occupant, but not the landlord.  A friend, but not a dictator?
     Paul felt passion when he writes to his Corinthian friends, ". . . we were so utterly burdened beyond our strength that we despaired of life itself.  Indeed, we felt that we had received the sentence of death." (2 Corinthians 1:8,9)  Even the apostle Paul was overwhelmed by that hardness of life and felt the strong pull of emotional despair.  How does he counter passion?  How does he walk out of the prison of despair?
     The only antidote to passion is faith.  We counter passion with the truth of our faith.  The truth is that we belong to Christ.  The truth is that "with God all things are possible."  The truth is that "God chose us in Him before the foundation of the world" (Ephesians 1:4).   The truth is that every one of us is "His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works" (Ephesians 2:9).
     Paul counters with truth when he writes, "But that (our struggles) was to make us rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead.  He delivered us from such a deadly peril and He will deliver us.  On Him we have set our hope that He will deliver us again." (2 Corinthians 1:9b, 10)
    Unbridled passion is a bully who crumples in the face of truth.  Passion is a straw-man that is easily knocked down by faith.
    Let Christ be supreme and let passion have it's rightful place:  a palette of colors in the hand of the Supreme Artist.  Let us trust in Him and not our passions.

The Canyon of Desire

We wait in the gap of wanting what we do not have.  That canyon of unmet longing is both deep and wide.  From where we stand, we can glimpse the other side and with all of our hearts, we long to be there.  It beckons us with its promise and beauty.

But the canyon is a formidable obstacle.  We hate it. . . and at times pretend it isn't there.  We  hug the periphery and look beyond at the loveliness of the other side.  We imagine ourselves there. . . no more pain, no more longing.  But inevitably our eyes return to the canyon.  Our enemy, it seems, threatens to consume us.

To descend into the canyon, to embrace our unmet desires,  seems the worst pain of all.   Beauty is swallowed up by darkness.   We descend and desire rises.  The tension seems unbearable.  Will we ever emerge from this canyon?  Will we ever reach the other side?  Every step echoes futility.

But deep in the canyon of desire, there lies a river.  Unseen by those standing at the top of canyon walls, this river lies deep in the dark bottoms.  It is a river that brings unexpected refreshment to the weary traveler, the discouraged soul.  It quenches thirst, revives hearts and imparts hope.  In the deep dark, desire becomes a door and hope lies on the other side.  Drink deep and linger in this place.  The walls of the canyon are still high, but here at the bottom of unmet desire, the paradox of peace envelops you.

The journey resumes. . . but you are not alone.  Desire has led you to the One who holds all desire.  And now, He holds you, supports you, steadies you and leads you.  The path is unclear and demanding; but you are held.  You cling and are comforted.  This "God-of-the-other-side," this "God-of-happy-endings" is with you in the dark.  The dreaded canyon has become holy ground.  You find hope rising in the midst of pain.  Desire has brought you here and now Love holds you.  You climb with your destination unseen; but each step is sacred.  You believe the One who leads you can be trusted.  And somehow, the journey itself takes on a bit of the beauty of your destination.

"There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,  the holy place where the Most High dwells."  Psalm 46:4

Giving Up Control

     It is July and thoughts of my "words for the year" are a distant memory.   But today I returned to my January entry and realized that God has not forgotten and that He has not stopped plowing up cynicism and cultivating joy and expectancy in my life.  Two events have hugely impacted me in the last month.  One was returning to Guatemala for another missions trip; the other was coming home and being sick for a week.
    This year, Mark and I were given the amazing gift of being able to lead a missions trip to Guatemala out of our church.  We had gone with our family last year, but to lead a trip placed a whole new responsibility on our shoulders.  My hyper-responsibility glands went into high gear as I so desired to make this a great trip for everyone involved.  But from the beginning, it seemed like nothing quite went the way I planned.  The date was changed from what I wanted; the team make-up was smaller than what I wanted; the travel arrangements were hard. . .   There was no easy button to be found.  Maybe that's how it is whenever you embark of missions, but in my "got to get this right" worldview, it was frustrating to try so hard and have everything seem disappointing.
     Nonetheless, three weeks ago, our team embarked on our trip. . . albeit from two different airports!!  (Our family on two planes = major anxiety!)  We flew to Eagle's Nest in Solala, Guatemala where we led a morning camp for orphans living at Eagle's Nest and an afternoon camp for kids from the nearby village.  God decided to underscore for me over and over again just how capable He is!  The week we went was our second choice, but it ended up being the best choice, because the kids were out of school all week.  That allowed us to do 2 camps instead of one giant camp and gave us much more time with the kids!  I desired to have more musicians on our team, especially a drummer.  A couple and their son were staying at Eagle's Nest.  The father and son turned out to be drummers and helped teach the older kids drumming during our camp!  I had wanted some Spanish speakers on our team; God provided two college interns who not only translated for us, but were wonderful in directing the kids.  Further, the Patlans (missionary family who run Eagle's Nest) have 3 kids who stepped up and helped us in big ways.
     The sum total is that God gave us an amazing week.  He provided exactly what we needed.  Every member of our team proved valuable and indispensable.  and then God went beyond in knitting our hearts to one another, to the kids and to the Patlan family. 
     Perhaps one source of my cycnicism is my ultra-responsibility. . . which is really just code for "control freak"!  God took control away from me in many areas and then provided more abundantly than I ever could.  In His artistic way, at the end of the week, He gave me the experience of ziplining.  I had to let go of my fear of heights and trust I could survive being dangled from a cable thousands of feet in the air (okay, maybe just hundreds)!  It was terrifying, but it was ultimately glorious to experience something like flying through the air.  It was freedom. . . which is scary, but also very exhilarating.  And that is a life lesson for me.  Joy comes when I abandon the need to control.
    Coming home I had a week of illness.  I was "weak as water" to quote my mother-in-law and unable to do much besides sleep and sip sprite.  Again, I lost control.  I couldn't jump back into life.  And God provided through friends and family who stocked our fridge and filled it with meals to make our transition back easier.  My teenagers took over driving.  Friends watched my kids at the swim meet.  It was hard, but it was good.
    So joy comes in yielding to God's very capable hands and believing that He can be trusted with the details of my life.  And hard and beautiful aren't really that far apart.

A Bouquet of Peace

"May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit."  Romans 15:13

As I ask God to combat my cynicism, today I am struck by this gift of peace.  I equate peace with comfort and long for that to be the norm of my life.  Sickness, arguing kids, panicked phonecalls, thwarted goals, burning green beans -- these are interruptions that I resent because they seem abnormal.  Comfort is pierced by chaos and disorder.

But today it occurs to me that I've inverted reality.  Perhaps chaos is the norm.  The backdrop for life is more black than white. The hardness of life prevails with occasional interruptions of comfort.

Rather than deepening cycnicism, this reverse perspective fills me with gratitude.  When I expect that each day will be full of stretching and stuggle, I am awed that God offers to fill me with "all joy and peace" and cause me to "overflow with hope".  I am looking and listening for His small gifts that pierce the hard with His joy, His peace, His hope.

Today God dropped moments of peace into my day.  Sitting quietly with a cup of coffee and His Word.  Having my cat sprawled across my lap, purring with contentment.  A gray day that seemed to slow the pace.  Soul connection with a friend.  Listening to my son play cello.  My busy girl, sitting still enough to read with me.  My big girl asleep on her bed, still wearing her boots.  An hour at the library. . . working in front of a fireplace.  Lots of crazy, lots of chaos in between, but periodic infusions of peace that defy the hardness of life and cause gratitude to well up in my heart.

Words for a New Year

     Six days into 2013 and I am still contemplating what my "word" for the year will be.  At the suggestion of a friend, last year was the first time I exchanged a  list of resolutions for a single word.  The word for 2012 was "yieldedness" and I suppose God gave it to me as a life raft for theyear.  At the beginning of the year it was a quality I felt like I was lacking in my relationship with God.  It was something I desired, but did not possess.  And quite  honestly I could not muster up the wisdom and stamina to make it happen.  But God very generously and creatively wove circumstances that gave me repeated practice at yielding. I can't check a box.  I won't say "I've mastered yielding to God".   But I am in process and I loved seeing the artistry of God in carrying this theme throughout the year.
     So far no single word has pierced my heart with utter clarity.  What I keep coming back to, however, is the ugly word "cynicism".  If I could clean the closets of my soul, I would take this dirty word and kick it to the curb (along with its friends "negativity" and "dread").  For me, cynicism is a soul cancer that expects little of people and God, that sets expectations so low, that they can never be disappointed.  Cynicism feels safe, but it is a lens that drains the color out of life and reduces all to grays and beige. 
     As I've thought about what would displace cynicism, I keep thinking of a pair words:  "joy" and "expectancy".  I want to change the lens.  I want to be able to lift my eyes to see the joy moments.  To stop and wallow in them.  To be willing to part with efficiency and laugh more and longer.  To celebrate little victories that are too often eclipsed by looming goals and deadlines.  "Joy in the journey" is cliche, but I was to smile at the process as much as I strain for the accomplishments. . . and maybe more.
     Expectancy feels very risky.  I can remember my broken, 16-year-old heart drinking the koolaid that would numb my heart and relieve pain:  "Lower your expectations" became my mantra.  Anytime people disappointed me, I could take control by lowering my expectations of them.  Thus I kept my heart protected.
     But the containment of pain was bought by the forfeiture of hope.  It is impossible to protect the heart and nurture hope.
     Hope is wild and unpredictable.  It springs at the most unpredictable times and in the most unlikely of places.  Hope is tied to expectation. . . specifically expectation that the God of this universe is really who He says he is.  That He loves me, chooses me, forgives me, redeems me and in all things is advocating for me.  Expectancy is eager, anticipating and optimistic -- believing that God is writing a very good story through my life and the lives of those I love.  I can labor in relationships and endure messy disappointments, because God is the consumate midwive, bringing forth new life from all pain.  I can safely rest all my expectations for myself and those I love on Him. . . and let Him breath hope and joy into my heart.
     Joy and expectancy casting out cynicism and dread.  This is what I would love for God to do in my heart this year.

Facing the Mountain

     It is never a good sign when, after drinking two cups of coffee, I am dozing off as I pray.  This morning I read two chapters in Tim Keller's Reason for God, closed my eyes to pray and woke up 45 minutes later under a quilt on the couch!  (This is no indictment of Tim Keller -- his book is excellent!)  Sadly, this happened has happened before. . . in my recent past. 
    Right now I am facing a mountain and rather than feeling exhilarated by the climb ahead, I am flat exhausted.  Tired before I even start, looking for a chairlift, wondering if I could find a coffeehouse and just enjoy the mountain from a distance, hot drink in hand.  I have had people tell me I don't need to climb this mountain.  There is an easier way to the same destination.  There are other people more skilled and conditioned to do the climbing for me.  I agree with all of their words and have explored every escape option.  But it is clear and unavoidable:  God wants me to climb this mountain. . . and I don't have the skill or strength.  This is where God steps in and provides the supplies I need.  As usual God is not conventional, so instead of physical strength and a detailed mental map, He is giving me rations of courage (I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength), hope (all things work together for good for those who love God and are called according to His purposes) and unquenchable love (greater love has no man than he lay down his life for his friends -- or kids or husband).
     My mountain has many names, but I am calling it "Fool's Peak" or "The Mountain of Teenage Angst".  Lots of other people have climbed it and lots of others are climbing it now.  But this is my teenager and so this mountain is very personal for me.  To climb it means to engage with a teenager who seems to want nothing to do with engagement.  The destination is his God-given potential, so to climb the mountain is to believe every day that God is working in him.  He is in process and every day is a new page, not the end of the story.  To climb means to speak words that affirm his worth.  To extend respect when he does nothing to deserve it.  To respond with kindness when he is surly and belligerent.  To hold him accountable with words of hope, not condemnation.  But most of all, to climb this mountain means to stay in relationship with him when my natural impulse is to run, distract and distance until he's "come through" these turbulent years (translation:  don't sit in the coffee house!).
    My energy bar is God's word.  God loves my teenager more than I do.  His life is a miracle that God orchestrated.  God is a master at working out stories of redemption.  No one is too foolish or messed up for his redemptive work.  I need to be reminded every day that there is more in play than I can see with my eyes.  I see the steep climb; God sees the beauty.  I see the rocks; God sees the destination.  I see foolishness; God sees His image.     
     God also sees me.  He equips me.  He travels with me.  He gives me what I need.  I am climbing a mountain, but I'm not alone.  And God knows when I need to rest under a quilt.

   "The LORD is the everlasting god, the Creator of the ends of the earth.  He will not grow tired or
     weary and his understanding no one can fathom.  He gives strength to the weary and increases the
     power of the weak.  Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall;
     but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength.   They will soar on wings like eagles;
     they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint."  Isaiah 40:28-31
   

25 Days of Mercy

     I am always looking for a means of breaking away from the frenetic, consumer-oriented pace of the Christmas holidays!  If it is possible to love and hate a holiday, that describes my annual angst with Christmas.  So I was readily captivated this week when one of my friends casually mentioned doing 25 days of kindness.  It was no more than a passing comment, but it made a quick inroad into my heart.  The idea took shape the next day as I talked about it with some of the kids in the car.  "Let's think of some people we could encourage with kindness this Christmas.  We can plan some acts of kindness, but let's pray that God would show us a spontaneous act of kindness that we can do each day."  We had a "soft start" on Thursday when we went to bake cookies and play checkers with one set of grandparents.  Friday we  had some friends over.  But sad to say, the kindness train derailed today on the FIRST DAY OF DECEMBER!!  What do you do when your act of kindness (towards unnamed children) is rejected and their response is complaint?  This is "advanced kindness" and I don't have the syllabus! 
       Or do I?  Paul writes, ". . . that God's kindness leads you to repentance." (Romans 2:4)  I've read enough of the Bible to know that God's kindness has not always been well-received.  When God rescued the Jewish people from slavery in Egypt, the Jews returned God's lavish provisions with complaint and unbelief.  To read Exodus, it is almost embarassing how much God's people whine and complain.  It's the same words, different verse throughout the entire Old Testament.  It seems that human beings are bound by a common desire for "more" and inclination to complain and rebel against God.  And how does God respond?  He disciplines His people in a variety of ways, ultimately letting them lose their country's independence, all in an effort to turn their hearts back to Him. 
      But God's consumate kindness takes the form of a baby.  He sends a personal representative, His only son, to come into a terminally broken world and show God's love to a chronically stubborn and rebellious people.  But we don't usually call this breathtaking act an "act of kindness".  We call it an act of mercy -- God not punishing mankind for their rebellion against Him. . . even though they deserve it.  Instead God gave a gift, which cost Him greatly.  He withheld punishment and provided a means of redemption. 
     This is advanced kindness -- withholding judgment when judgment is deserved.  Mercy is a challenge to my justice-minded nature.  I trip over the unfairness of life far too often.  It is much easier to be kind to people whom I deem deserving.  Mercy is showing kindness to those who don't deserve it, again and gain and again, leaving the response and the outcome to God.
    Today began 25 Days of Mercy -- I just didn't know it until my act of kindness was thwarted!

A Gift

The best book I have read this year is called Seven by Jen Hatmaker.  If it is possible to be both deep and hilarious while talking about the Christian's response to poverty, Jen manages to hit the mark.  Jen journals about what it is like to give up the excess in seven areas of her life and how she presses into God's heart for the poor and broken by intentionally becoming poor in these areas.    This book stirred me to my core and made me laugh out loud.  It also fueled in me the desire to  better live out God's heart of love for those who are marginalized and impoverished in the world.  And frankly, it contributed to the growing tension in my heart that I wrote about in the last blog!

I am a woman of many ideas, many passions and limited energies.  But while reading Seven, God whispered an idea into my heart. . . and He actually birthed this dream into a reality!!  This last weekend, our 16-month old church, had a clothing giveaway for the poor.  We called it Dare2Share.  About 350 people showed up to receive free clothes, free food and free prayer.  The people in this group were our guests and they each had a face and a story.  They were refugees from Liberia, Uganda, Bhutan, Burma and Vietnam.  They were men and women who have found themselves without a permanent place to call home.  They were people who were unemployed.  They were recovering drug addicts.  They were children, representing their parents' best hope.  Side by side with these guests were members of our church and members of other churches.  They were serving food, helping people shop, holding babies, reading books to children, carrying bags and praying with and for people.   It was beautiful.   A picture of God's family doing what they should do best -- generously sharing the love of Christ that has been lavished on us, extending our hands toward reconciliation, displaying God's compassion toward the poor.

For me, however, the miracles began long before October 27th.  After planting the seed this summer, God allowed me to see another church put on a similar event.  He gave me a team of amazing women with many gifts and compassionate hearts.  He gave my husband -- the practical one -- an excitement for the idea.  And even though we only had 10 weeks from the time we received church approval, He opened doors and moved the preparations along at a breath-taking speed.  Repeatedly, we would come up against an obstacle, pray to God for help and then watch Him move.

But we knew that no amount of planning could guarantee that we would have enough clothes, enough volunteers and most importantly, enough recipients.  We were at God's mercy. . . and that, I learned, is a beautiful place to be.  God lavished us with clothes, lavished us with volunteers and lavished us with recipients.  I like control so much, but Dare2Share took that away from me.  Control stymies faith and God not only wanted to bless the poor; He wanted to grow my faith.  It was like standing on a diving board, scared to jump, but landing safely in my dad's arms.  Each answered prayer was God catching me and after awhile I was excited to jump.  On the morning of the giveaway, we still didn't know how many people would show up; but I woke up excited, like it was Christmas morning and I couldn't wait to open my presents.  When I arrived at the church and saw refugee families lining up an hour early to get in and when I saw so many people show up to volunteer, it was better than any Christmas morning gift.   I felt invited, privileged and loved to be a part of God's initiative.  It made me fear dependency less and actually long for more of those helpless situations.  It made me thankful to be a part of a community of believers who also respond to faith adventures.

Pulled

Guatemala seems to have wrecked my life.  It is crazy to come home, surrounded by so many comforts, but miss a place of struggle.  Only ten days in Guatemala and I feel out-of-place in my city, in my life, in my country.  Of course, I love my bed and cooking my own food and having running water available 24/7!  I love the wide streets, orderly driving (well, compared to Guatemala!), classical music in Panera, green yards and lots of space in the grocery store.  I love understanding people and having conversations that use more than the 40-or-so words of Spanish that I know! 

But despite the creature comforts and the familiarity of home, my heart is upheaved.  I have longings that I can scarcely define; and I don't know what to do with them.  I miss the kids; I miss the beauty; I miss living in community; I miss days devoted to living out the love of Jesus.  In short, I feel pulled:  pulled between two worlds that I love, pulled between the needs in front of me and the needs of 42 orphans on a mountain in Guatemala, pulled between the frantic demands of life in front of me and the longings for a more intentional life.

A better word for what I am experiencing is tension.  Tension is created by a pull between two opposing forces.  I picture kids on either end of a rope, pulled against each other or two opposing magnets pushing away from each other.  On a daily basis I feel the tension of my kids pulling against my directives or my husband advancing an agenda different from my own.  Sometimes I have tension in relationships. . . like when someone says something so outrageous I wonder if we live on the same planet. . . or I have such a strong emotional response to a situation  to which others seem indifferent!

But there is a deeper soul tension that is much harder to experience.  In the core of my soul are longings that reflect the image of my Maker.  There is a part of my soul that knows I was made for Garden-living:  perfect, whole, unity with others, creation and God.  That part of my soul KNOWS that God is writing a story of redemption that advances His kingdom. . . and I want to be a part.  I also know that I am living in one of the most privileged, richest countries in the world, while the majority of the world suffers for clean water and regular nutrition.  The amount of stuff I have is soul-numbing.  What I spend at Target alone in a month could sustain a family in Guatemala!  The inequity of life creates a tension in my soul. 

In short, I long to be tied into God's purposes and His story.  This longing creates a strong undertow in my soul that goes against the current of my culture.  I am left struggling, confused and tired.

I work so hard to resolve this ongoing tension.  Strategy #1 is to blame others.  If people around me would change, if they cared more, if they gave more, if they tried. . . the world would be a better place.  God's love wouldn't be so obscured in the lives of His people.  I am frustrated by complacency and resignation in others.  I keep my southern smile in place, but inside I criticize the lack of passion in others.  Strategy #2 is to blame myself.  Why am I so intense?  Why do I have to analyze things to death?  Why can't I be more submissive to the status quo and accepting of others? There is the sharp pain of feeling like I don't fit into the conservative, evangelical people group any  more than I fit into the liberal, psuedo-tolerant people group.  These are feeble, but enticing strategies that make me feel like I can diminish my soul tension.  But, neither leaves me feeling very hopeful or loving.

Into this hot mess, God sent a wise friend several weeks ago, who cut to the crux of my tension when she said, "Maybe this is just how its suppose to be.  Maybe we're suppose to feel pulled.  Longings show us we are made for more."  Without removing the tension, my friend handed me a pair of glasses with which I could see more clearly.  I'm made for another world than the one I live in.  Tension testifies to the fact that there is more than what this world offers.   In a way, tension is divine kiss; a reminder that there is a bigger story.  I'm not suppose to fit here.  A sinful world filled with brokenness, povery, disease and suffering should not lend itself to a comfortable life. 

Another wise man, Brendon Hatmaker, writes in his book, The Barefoot Church:

"Tension always accompanies an opportunity, a challenge or a thing to consider.  When we place our focus on eliminating the tension, our primary focus becomes the tension itself, instead of the thing we should be considering.  This reveals our  nature to eliminate the thing causing the tension instead of dealing with much-needed change."  (pp. 123-134)

So I am trying to learn how to make tension my friend.  How to navigate between the pull of this world and world-to-come?  How do I press into the tension and listen to what God wants me to consider?

Guatemala: Last Day

We're packed and ready to leave early in the morning. . . but I can't sleep.  Maybe it's the Guatemalan coffee I had earlier in the evening, but I know that it's partially this feeling that when I go to sleep and wake up this experience will be over. 

Today has been a FULL day of ministry:  doing devotions at the school this morning, helping in the 3-year-old class again (having the kids for an hour and a half without their teacher --- Ay karumba!), doing pedicures for the mamas in the orphanage and completing our final day of camp.  Even in a foreign culture, my friend, "overcommitment" seems to accompany me!  But I wouldn't have it any other way.  I've taken in this week as deeply and intentionally as I could.  My body is exhausted, but my soul feels alive and deeply satisfied.

My heart, however, is stirred by conflicting emotion.  I am SO happy to have had this experience and so grateful that our entire family could serve together.  I have loved seeing my kids engage and have their hearts captured by Guatemalan children.  I love being here with part of our church community and serving should-to-shoulder with friends.  Yesterday ended with Mark and I lying in bed with  Graciela and Joshua, talking in the dark about our favorite parts of the day.  It was sweet beyond words.  Joshua and Audrey have especially connected with the kids here.  Interestingly, our whole family has overlapped in some of the kids we are drawn to.  Joshua had brought a lunchbox he wanted to give to one boy while he was here.  He chose Rolando, a 9-year-old deaf boy he had bonded with.  Audrey had brought a small stuffed bear she wanted to give to one girl while she was here.  She chose 3-year-old Estella, Rolando's sister who is also deaf.  Together we pooled some goodies for their other sister, Candi.  Last  night my heart was so full of gratitude to see Audrey and Joshua's compassion and to see God's artistry in drawing them to the same family group.

But my heart is also very sad to say good-bye.  This morning at school devotions, I got choked up as I looked at so many beautiful faces and thanked the children for having us.  We are one team of 45 teams who have come in 2012.  These kids will most likely forget us.  But I  hope we will not forget them.  I want to believe that God loves them so much that He brought us here and placed certain kids on each of our hearts so that we will continue to pray for them in the months, maybe years, ahead.  I want to believe those prayers, offered for specific children can really make a difference in their lives.  In my heart, I have a photo gallery of pictures that includes Rudy, Yuma, Marvin, Raul, Gavriel, Daniel, Suceli, Rolando, Candi, Estella, Lupe, Yuli, Marisol, Javier and Arturo.  I want to remember and pray.

But I also fear that I will forget.  There is so much at home that distracts me; so much that occupies my vision and blocks what is truly of eternal importance.  I want to go home different.  I want our family to be different.  But I worry that we will lapse back into what is easy and comfortable. . . i.e. serving ourselves.  Even if our family is not called to full-time missions, I would like for us to do life differently so that we could free up more money to invest in those who are called.  I hope that we carry home with us a passion for caring for "the least of these" both in Guatemala and Greensboro and around the world. 

This one thing I know:  God care more about these children than I do.  He cares more about spiritual and physical redemption that I do.  He is incredibly persistent and creative in bringing us in line with His purposes.  I fear becoming complacent and preoccupied with the wrong things.  But God is generous in both igniting and sustaining passion for His kingdom. 

GUATEMALA: Day 7 - 8

Yesterday was our third day of camp. . . and it RAINED!  This is the rainy season, but we have been blessed by lots of sunshine during our first few days.  Yesterday (and this morning) we are embraced by clouds and can see nothing off of our deck.  If we didn't remember Monday and Tuesday, we would have no idea that there is a beautiful lake beneath us encircled by mountains.  But even with the clouds we can hear the sounds of music from neighborhoods below.  The constant music from locals is one of my favorite parts of being here.  I'm thinking that all of this is such a picture of our faith journey:  pursuing what we can't see, remembering God's faithfulness and even in the dark, hearing the music of the gospel.



Sweet baby Dulce

 Yesterday Graciela and I were able to spend a few hours with the babies in the orphange.  Be still my heart!!  Five little girls with chocolate chip eyes, black hair and impish grins.  Audrey has spent a lot of time with the babies and it is her favorite place at Eagle's Nest.  Yesterday it was my happy place.  I had a little 2-year-old named Marisol fall asleep on me.  I rocked her for over an hour and kept praying for her little life to be marked by God's love and provision.


Marisol has captured everyone's heart



This evening, me and Audrey and three other girls went to watch the babies and toddlers at the orphanage so their mamas could go watch The Jesus Film with the older children.   We are sooo impressed with this orphanage and the care these children receive.  The mamas are loving and engaged with the children.  Still, it was very sad for me to lay 5 babies in their cribs and prop their bottles.  It was hard to see rows of beds in the other rooms and realize that these kids generally move  about in a group.  They don't get to be rocked at night and snuggled and read a book.  Eagle's Nest is giving them a sense of family, but its a different type of family than I would wish for them. 



Lively Lizzie



One of the family groups who has captured our hearts this is Marvin, Yrma and Rudy.  I learned more about their story today.  Their parents are alcoholic and their grandfather was abusing them when their parents would go to work.  Marvin at age 9 had taken his siblings to live under a tree to protect them.  This is where they were found only 6 weeks ago.  I am so grateful that Eagle's Nest is safe place for them to live, where all three seem to be blossoming.  Marvin has gone from tackling me to hugging me multiple times a day.  I can't tell you how sad I am to say good-bye to this family group.



Graciela and Miram



Another thing that tugs at my heart each is to see how older girls (as in 8 or 9) will care for their younger siblings.  They are so nurturing and protective.  Because my team at camp has the youngest kids, everyday I have witnessed the big girls trying to separate from their little brothers and sisters.  They have loved camp and I have loved giving them a break from their childcare responsibilities. One of the girls, Suceli, has stayed with me and the younger kids every day.  She has also captured my heart, because she is so quick to serve and so kind to her siblings.  Yesterday and today, Lainey and I have mainly played games with our younger kids. I have been amazed and how responsive they are to simple games like Ring-Around-the-Rosies, Duck-Duck-Goose (Pato-Pato-Ganzo) and Doggie-Doggie-Where's-Your-Bone.  Sucelia has come alive during these games and I have loved seeing her so carefree.  Our group was also totally captivated when I brought in watercolor paints and Crayola markers!!  They take such delight in art.



Suceli



This morning I spent a second day helping in the preschool with 3-year-olds.  Many of these kids I have in camp in the afternoon and they are absolutely precious.  One of the most animated is Guadalupe or "Lupe".  Today I was amazed to learn that Lupe, who is an orphan, does not have a sponsor for school!  She is one of the most attentive and responsive in class, plus she exudes joy.  But evidently many of these kids desperately need sponsors to help with their education.  Eagle's Nest school is so good that there are many prominent families who pay to send their kids there.  But a large percentage are either orphans or from very poor families.



Me and Marvin



Lupe



GUATEMALA: Days 5-6



Audrey and friend

      Our ministry week kicked off yesterday and what a day it was!  The Patlans are a "come and see" family, so we were invited to participate in the school and orphanage.  I led a devotional at the beginning of school. . . the first time I've ever spoken with a translator!  Afterwards our team fanned out.  Mark and the boys moved rocks, cleared the soccer field and prepped an area in the school to be painted.  Audrey spent the morning helping with the babies in the nursery (probably the BEST job!).  And Graciela and I helped in a classroom of 10 3-year-olds.  I was asked to read them a counting book and teach them how to say English numbers.  We labored through that book, counting to ten and including 20, 50 and 100.  I was totally humbled when the teacher spent the rest of the morning teaching them numero "5"!!  But it was truly wonderful to see how she taught and reinforced that number through so many activities!
     Eagle's Nest is also the site for a feeding program that feeds children from the community.  Three times a week, over 60 kids are served a hot and nourishing meal.  I did the same devotional there and then our team served them lunch.  Many of these kids would come to our camp, so we hung out with them and then walked them over.

Ymera

    But everything was building to camp!  We didn't know how many kids were coming, but we were prepared for about 100.  The camp was designed for ages 4-16, but Pedro suggested that many of the "mamas" from the orphanage might like to participate, so some of our team volunteered to watch the babies, so these women in their late teens and twenties could have some fun.  About 90 kids arrived and were divided into 3 age groups, which would rotate through volleyball, soccer and art.  It was a wonderful turnout albeit very chaotic!!  My team had the younger kids, which ended up including many 2 and 3-year olds, whose older siblings had brought them.  Trying to engage them in organized activites was like herding cats!  Probably the highlight for them was throwing a beach ball on the volleyball court.  There was one little deaf girl named Estella who was very unengaged. . . until we started throwing the beachball.  The best part of my day was seeing her face light up and hearing her giggle as she ran after that ball.  We also had 3 siblings that absolutely captured my heart:  Rudy (2), Ymera (3) and Marvin (8).  I learned



"Spiderman"



afterwards that they had recently been removed from their parents' home, because both parents were alcoholics.  Marvin had an impish smile and would hurl himself at me like a human torpedo!  But thanks to Josh and Caleb I understand this type of energy!  I kept calling him my friend and telling him how much I like him and how nice he was. . . and that he was "muy loco"!  Ymera has a very flat affect, but when she smiles you feel like you've won the lottery!  And Rudy is the energizer bunny until he sits still and the he can fall asleep sitting up. . . or sprawled on the concrete floor like yesterday.  We could tell you a bunch of stories, but suffice it to say these kids have captured our hearts.

     Today our team had a fun outing.  Half of us went ziplining (Mark, Audrey, Caleb and Josh included); and the other half took a boat ride across Lake Atitalan (Evan, Graciela and me).  We all had a great time, but those of us on the boatride were subjected to Guatemalan vendors at their worst!  They met us at the dock, thrust their items into our faces, begged us to buy.  When I said "mas tarde" (later), one woman said, "My name is Michelle.  Your remember me and buy from me."  Michelle proceeded to follow our group all the way up a street of vendors.  When I bought a trinket from a 3-year-old, she and a horde of other Guatemalans pounced on me.  They followed us into an ice cream store and they followed us all the way back to the boat, saying things like, "You said you would buy from me.  You lie.  It's not good to lie;"  "Please buy from me.  I need food."  "Give me money and I will leave you alone."  To say it was awful is an understatement!  We couldn't wait to get on the boat. . . and even then they were thrusting things in our faces, begging us to buy.  I hate pressure sales!  But it felt awful not to help needy people. 



Caleb and friend

On the upside, camp seemed like a walk in the park for me!  One of the blessings of today was watching some of the older girls on our team. . . older as in 8!  Here children start caring for their siblings at a young age and so a few of the girls on our team are watching their younger siblings or cousins.  They grow up fast and evidently their opportunities for fun are few.  Candi and Suceli are two of these responsible sisters and today they were having a blast!  I loved seeing them so animated and engaged!  Candi is Estella's older sister and together with their brother, Rolando, they live with their 83 year old grandmother.  They just began school at Eagle's Nest in January and are learning Spanish as their family speaks a Mayan dialect.  Their lives have been very hard and it was wonderful to see Candi enjoying herself so fully!





    

GUATEMALA: Days 3-4

     I wish I had made time to write during the last three days.  The days are incredibly full and we all fall into bed exhausted!  The CCG team arrived in Guatemala City on Saturday afternoon and we made a 3 hour bus ride (school buses are THE main form of transportation here!) to Eagle's Nest:  Nido de Aguilar in Spanish..  Safe to say we were unprepared for the breath-taking beauty!  Eagle's Nest is perched on a mountain (about 7000 ft.) overlooking Lake Atitilan which is surrounded by mountains, many of which are volcanoes.  We look out at the mountains, the lake and small communities.  We can hear church bells and the sound of music  from town.  And the air is so cool and dry!  Esta muy bonita aqui!!
    Most of us have felt the effects of high altitude -- i.e. tiredness -- and were thankful for an easy start on Sunday.  We worshipped in a Spanish evangelical church that meets in the Eagle's Nest School.  It was so beautiful to sing worship songs in Spanish with Guatemalan brothers and sisters.  Most were songs that we knew and thankfully they had the Spanish words on a projector.  The family of God was so big to us that morning!  I think most of the team, including us, felt compelled to honor the Latin tradition of afternoon siesta on Sunday. . . and we needed it!  Later in the afternoon a group of us walked through the nearby community to invite people to the sports camp we will be conducting Monday-Friday.  We walked through fields of maize, green onions, brocoli, bean and cilantra.  We saw incredibly humble homes, but beautiful flowers and kind , welcoming people.  We walked past a home where a family was having a funeral for their adult son who had died in a motorcycle accident.  We were invited in to pay our respects and pray with the mother.  Another family invited us into their home and shared their testimonies with us.  We watched a bunch of men and boys playing soccer.  Women and children walked past us in traditional Guatemalan dress.  It was an incredibly beautiful time and gave us such a picture of village life in Guatemala!  Here there were no tourists and we were told that the community has intentionally left road unpaved so to discourage people from moving to their community! 

The view from our room

     The family who runs Eagle's Nest is Pedro and Felis Patlan.  They have three children:  Audrianna, Dorian and Anika.  They are a dynamic family who have been amazingly gracious to us and incredibly helpful!  Felis' parents Claire and Larry Boggs started planting churches in this area of Guatemala 35 years ago!!  Felis grew up here, but only returned 2 years ago with her husband and kids to take over the administration of Eagle's Nest.  Eagle's Nest is an orphanage for about sixty children.  It also houses a school, grades pre-school through 7th, for both the orphans and children from nearby communities.  We will helping in the school most mornings and running a sports/art camp for children in the afternoon. 

Mi amiga, Maria



GUATEMALA: Day 2

Today was a day we will long remember.  It was such a privilege to travel outside of Guatemala City to the countryside!  We were so surprised by the beauty.  It is very dry here, but rolling hills were spotted with trees among fields.  Corn was growing on the sides of mountains!  Cows, goats and burros were grazing along the roads.  And men were cutting grass with machetes!  Our family decided we like the country much better than the congestion of the city!  We drove 87 kilometers (about 50 mi.) and it took 3 hours!!  We were so grateful to our driver, Mariano, for getting us there and back safely!  Neither Mark nor I would EVER want to   drive in Guatemala! 

It was amazing to be able to visit a Compassion center.  We were so humbled to see the place where children learn.  There were no enclosed windows and the desks and chairs were circa 1950s!  But the classrooms were decorated with art and there was such a spirit of love.  We learned so much about Compassion and are more passionate than ever about this organization.  Compassion  International partners with local Guatemalan churches to provide a place where children can come for tutoring and discipleship after school.  Older students also receive vocational training and some enrichment classes.  Additionally, students are provided with the necessary school supplies at the start of every school year.  Every center has one paid administrator, but is largely powered by volunteers.  And the sponsoring church cares for these kids and their families even after the kids have aged out.  There are 35,000 children enrolled in Compassion programs in Guatemala!

We met Donai, age 15, and his mother and 4-year-old sister, both named Maria.  Donai is a handsome, polite boy who met us with a huge thank you card.  He and his mother and sister captured our hearts!  They invited us to their home which was a 15 minute drive and then a 5 minute walk down a mountainside.  His "village" is a cluster of homes on the side of a mountain, accessed only by walking paths.  When we walked, we cross a small creek where a girl was washing dishes in the water.  His mother has to walk 15 minutes to haul fresh water back their house!  And cooking occurs on open fires. Evidently, Donai's home washed away 2 years prior during an exceptionally rainy season.  They were living in a nicer adobe home, provided by friends who had moved into San Pedro Pinula.  Our time with them was such a blessing.   We prayed together and while Mark prayed, Donai's mother prayed and Cruz, the center director prayed.  Our interpreter, Lucia, told us that the entire time that Mark was praying for Donai's family, his mother was praying for ours.  Isn't God amazing to bridge people across cultural, language and economic divides?  His mother radiated the love of Christ even when we couldn't understand what she was saying.  We all drove to the town of Jalapa to have lunch at Pollo Camporo. . . Guatemalan fastfood!!  The day was very eye-opening for all of us.  We are so grateful to our Compassion host, Lucia, who interpreted for us and taught us so much about Guatemala and Compassion in our two days with her.  I am amazed at how so many children's lives are made fundamentally better by being in a Compassion project.

GUATEMALA: Day 1

This morning at 5:30 a.m. our family left on our grand missions adventure to Guatemala!  We have run on adrenaline all day and are so thankful to be in our hotel rooms, in our pajamas and headed for bed soon!  I am also thankful to report that I had not panic attacks flying.  Evidently children are a strong distraction from emotional collapse (although we all know they are sometimes the cause of it, too!).  Our big talk with Graciela this morning was about how she needed to be holding a hand AT ALL TIMES. . . unless she was sitting down.  The consequence for not holding our hand would be the purchase of a child halter and leash.  We had been at the Greensboro airport for ten minutes, when she asked me if we could just go ahead and buy her a leash!!  Gladly, we did not need to and she is getting use to holding hands.  The other kids have been great and protective of her. 

The highlight of the day was meeting with our Compassion child, Kimberly!  Within an hour and a half of landing, we had rendevoused with our Compassion host, Lucia, who took us to the Metrobowl, where we met 19-year-old Kimberly and her chaperone, Griselda.  It was amazing to meet the person whose picture has been on our refrigerator for the last six years!  She was beautiful and gracious and we loved spending the afternoon eating and bowling with her.  She and Griselda both bowled for the first time in their lives!!  Thanks to the interpretation of Lucia, we were able to really engage.  At the end, we stood outside on the sidewalk and prayed for Kimberly.  She gave a very heartfelt "speech," thanking us for choosing her and telling us what a difference sponsorship has made in her life.  It was very poignant since she has aged out of the Compassion program and we will no longer be able to correspond with her as easily.  (We can e-mail her in English and she can e-mail us in Spanish, but there is the sticky problem of interpretation on both sides!)  We are so, so thankful for the time spent with Kimberly.

Tonight we went to a nearby Guatemalan restaurant which the kids really enjoyed.  The mark of a good hispanic restaurant is a woman making fresh tortillas and we were not disappointed!  Graciela kept wandering over to watch her and was thrilled when the woman invited her to make tortillas with her!!   What a sweet experience for her. . . and a great photo-op for us!

Tomorrow we are up early to visit our second Compassion child, Donai.  We will travel 87 miles and it will take us 3 hours!  Today we learned that he actually lives in the very town where Graciela was born!  We never knew! 

Intimidated and Inspired

   "To this you were called:  because Christ suffered for you, leaving you an example, that you should follow in His footseps.  'He committed no sin and no deceit was found in His mouth.'  When they hurled their insults at Him, He did not retaliate; when He suffered He made no threats.  Instead, He entrusted Himself to Him who judges justly."  1 Peter 2:20-23

 I have been with Mark on a business trip for the last few days in the beautiful Banff National Park in Alberta, Canada!  Yesterday Mark and I went downhill skiing at Lake Louise and it was beyond anything I have ever experienced.  In my life.  Ever.  We took a lift called the "Top of the World Lift" that dumped us on a snow-covered peak, surrounded by dozens of other snow-covered peaks.  It was so high I felt like I could touch the clouds.  It was breathtaking. . . it was inspiring. . . it was terrifying!  I am not a skilled skiier!  So I felt small and wholly inadequate to ski down the massive mountain on which I stood.  To make matters worse, skiiers and snowboarders were whizzing past me, jumping off the the defined trail, doing their own freestyle, bushwacking skiing.  My incompetence was highlighted.

This is a little how I feel when I read the above verses on suffering:  both awestruck and intimidated.  I am looking at a panorama of spiritual mountains that I can't imagine scaling.  I am passionate for justice, loud, outspoken and quick to vent my frustration.  How can I follow Jesus' example of suffering for the sin of people around me?  How do I lay down my rights and stop whining, "It's not fair!"?

As I read Peter's words it is patently clear to me that suffering is not optional!  We are to suffer for the foolish, broken, mean-ness of this world, simply because that's the example Jesus left.  He didn't correct every wrong, make the disciples behave and set up His kingdom.  He looked beyond injustice and saw His Father who would one day make all things right.  And He committed Himself to the path of redemption rather than that of personal comfort.  THAT is the example left for me to follow!

I'm intimidated, but I'm also struck by love that permits for that kind of suffering.  I want to love like that.  I want to try.  I want to trust God more than I trust myself.  Maybe it's like skiing yesterday.  I can't possibly take it all in and navigate an easy path.  On the mountain I just had to push off and follow Mark down.  I was slow and uncoordinated.  I fell some.  But each run was successively easier and eventually I found myself doing what seemed impossible. . . and then being crazy enough to go back to the top and come down again.

God give me that kind of faith -- to embrace suffering and entrust myself to you.

Surprised by Suffering

"Dear friends, do not be surprised at the painful trial you are suffering, as though something strange were happening to you.  But rejoice that you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when His glory is revealed."  1 Peter 4:12, 13

One of my parental pet peeves is complaining.  Without any instruction from me, all of my kids have become quite versed in the art of complaining and quite frankly, it bums me out! ( I'll resist the urge to complain about my kids' complaining! ) I think beneath any form of complaint is the belief that "my life should be problem-free."  Growing up in the lap of luxury, I think Americans are allergic to any form of personal sacrifice or discomfort.  We've come to expect comfort and so we are surprised by suffering on any level.  For my kids suffering means having a lot of schoolwork, having their ipod privileges revoked, having to set the table, being asked to do more than their siblings (oh, the injustice!) and not getting to eat out.    Hardship of any type seems to throw a stick in their bicycle spokes.  They break down in a pile of complaint.  I am horrified. . .

And yet this morning as I read in 1 Peter 4, I realize that I, too, am suprised by suffering.  In different arenas, I struggle with wholehearted resistance to hardship and personal sacrifice. . . especially in regards to family.  I get angry at Mark and the kids when my comfort is disrupted.  I resent my kids struggling and complaining and not embracing "obvious solutions", because I am pulled into a depth of suffering that I don't like. 

I am  just beginning to realize that I have a "suffering paradigm" that does not align with the Bible. In short, I suffer, I learn, I become stronger.   My paradigm is based on justice.  It is right to suffer for my own mistakes, but why must I suffer for others'. . . especially if their suffering results from their own foolishness or their resistance to my "obvious solutions"?!  (Don't procrastinate your homework and you will get better grades.  You'll go to bed earlier and not be so tired and grumpy, too!)  I will suffer for my own foolishness and shortcomings, but I chafe at the injustice of suffering for others.

But this is precisely what Jesus did.  He suffered for my sin and the rest of humanity.  And He didn't just suffer with the single, climactic act of crucifixtion.  I suspect Jesus suffered every day of His earthly life.   He suffered when His earthly family misunderstood Him and His brothers made fun of Him.  He suffered when His Nazarene neighbors basically called Him a liar and rejected His mission.  He suffered when the religious leaders attempted to publically humiliate Him.  He suffered when he saw how far from God these Jewish leaders were.  I think He suffered most over the disciples.  He shared his heart, broke bread with them and invited them into a holy adventure.  In return, they argued with each other, competed for Jesus' affection and repeatedly MISSED the point of His teaching.  Did Jesus ever think to Himself, "How could you be so selfish/stupid. . . after all I've done for you?!"

A biblical paradigm of suffering is not about my individual journey.  I am part of a bigger community, marked by profound brokenness, foolishness, selifshness and self-perpetuated pain.  Following Jesus means embracing the injustic of suffering for other people's mistakes, with an eye fixed on God's redemptive process.  Suffering leads to despair and anger when I stay on a horizontal plane.  Suffering is reduced to cause and effect and all I have to offer is a change in circumstances.  But from a vertical plane and eternal perspective, suffering is a portal into God's grander plan.  Suffering is fundamentally an invitaiton into radical dependency on God, an opportunity to align myself with Jesus' agenda:  "to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners."

This is a spiritual paradigm that I don't readily understand or embrace.  There is a mystery encapsulated in suffering.  Peter writes that participating in suffering results in joy.  To date, this has not been my experience.  When I carry the pain of my children or husband or friends, more often I experience frustration (why is this lasting so long?!!), anger (if only they would. . .), despair (nothing I do matters) and cynicism (that's just how they are; they'll never change).  I think that may have something to do with my very distorted view of suffering.  For the next few days I am going to camp out in 1 Peter and try to reconstruct a new biblical view of suffering.  I am going to ask God to help me yield my misconceived ideas about justice and suffering and tutor me the concept of redemptive suffering. 

Yielding to the process

     Graciela is learning to read.  Actually, she has been learning for 16 months.  The 100 Easy Lessons that had my other kids reading in 6-8 months have not proved as effective with my baby girl.  Remembering the difference between short "a" and long "a" has been agonizing.  After a year of "two-steps-forward-one-step-back" progress, in January Gracie was still sounding out words like "the" and "and".  I am not a reading specialist and years of homeschooling have not equipped me for Graciela's learning challenges.  All I 've known to do is to be faithful and patient.  Take the step backwards; reteach the concept again; express the belief  that "you can do this, you are so smart!"  All the while I'm woefully aware of my inadequacies, wondering if we are really making progress. 

     But a week ago, Graciela made that significant step of reading a real book:  Dick and Jane, that old time favorite that was my first reader!  A little chapter in that book launched Graciela forward.  All the frustration is receding as she is seeing that she can read!  Little words joining together into sentences that become a story.  The process has been excruciating, but she is bathing in the triumph of being able to read. 
    This little girl victory has been God's reminder to me that growth is always a process: one that can seem interminable and excruciating.  In the middle of any process it is easy to forget that the struggle will give way to triumph, that all those baby steps are really leading somewhere significant.  This is not a new lesson,  and yet, it is a lesson that I don't readily accept.   Can't life's obstacles be overcome by smart strategies, hard work and good communication?  If life gets too big, go to a friend or a minister or a counselor.  Get advice and make good choices and those problems will be conquered. 

     But now I am a parent of teenagers and God is revisiting this lesson with me.  He is exposing my "parental work ethic" as wholly inadequate.  In bold print He is writing these words on my heart:  GROWTH CANNOT BE HURRIED.  Yes, I am a player in my kids' lives, but I am not the shaper of their hearts or the director of their decisions.  I cannot orchestrate their lives so that they avert angst or jump over pain.  What I am in this season is a faith partner, whose primary job is to hold out truth and trust and invite my kids partake. Of greater impact than my words to them is my prayers.  The Holy Spirit who resides in my heart is the great engine of all growth.  He alone can access their heart and stir a soul appetite for God.  My role in this process is to BELIEVE.  I am to camp on soul-nourishing truths like, "He who began a good work in you (my kids) will be faithful to complete it;" (Philippians 1:6) and "For we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do."  (Ephesians 2: 10) The faith that I long to see residing in my kids' hearts is what I need to nourish in my own heart. 

Too often, however, I yield to momentary panic and frustration.  I try to fix, persuade, demand, convict.  I push for conversations that I hope will bring change.  I live as if I can push my kids through this growth process and then we can all live happily every after.  I tell my kids that God can be trusted with the details of their lives and then live as if He can't be trusted.  I push for premature resolution, not leaving room for God to do the deep, soul work of redemption. 

Faith is a mystery and so is growth.  God's timetable is not my own.  But His heart beats for my kids.  He wants them to know His love and purpose even more than Mark and I do.  These are the deep waters of faith:  relinquishing my kids, believing that God is able to redeem every detail of their lives and use it all to bring them to a place of spiritual wholeness and renewal.  To this I yield. . . the process of growth in the hands of a Savior who can be trusted.

Surrounded by God

"Those who trust in the LORD are like Mount Zion,
     which cannot be shaken,
        but endures forever.
  As the mountains surround Jerusalem,
      so the LORD surrounds His people,
         both now and forevermore." 

I am surrounded by God.

God before me. . . paving every new moment, creating opportunities, clearing obstacles, making roads and sometimes throwing down roadblocks.
God behind me. . . redeeming my mistakes, erasing my regret,  weaving my small story into His bigger story of redemption.
God beside me. . . holding my hand, bandaging my wounds, assuring me with His presence, steadying me when I falter, reminding me that I belong to Him.
God beneath me. . . holding me up, being my strength, anchoring me to His truth.
God above me. . . lifting my head, reminding me of my destination, pulling me beyond momentary pain to glimpse eternal joy.

God surrounds me.  I am held.  I am safe.  The only requisite for this gift is TRUST.  A heart yielded to God.  A child putting her full weight into her daddy's arms.  Hands upturned, arms outstretched, a heart of hope and a life crying out, "God you are good.  I put my trust in You."  My paltry trust offered to the God of the Universe, who sends His Spirit through the backdoor of my heart to unload truckloads of more trust, more belief, more faith. . . more than I could ever conjure up by my own efforts.  God supplying what I need to walk with Him.  God lavishing me with spiritual wealth.