"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.
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Friday, April 20, 2012
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.
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.
Saturday, March 3, 2012
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.
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.
Monday, February 27, 2012
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.
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.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Why I love Lent
Today is Ash Wednesday. . . a significant day on the Catholic church calendar. Not growing up Catholic, this day has meant little to me for most of my life. But this morning I feel all the anticipation of a child starting the Christmas season. This day begins the season of Lent: forty days leading up to the celebration of Christ's resurrection on Easter Sunday. Over the last few years, Lent has become an increasingly beautiful season for me.
Appropriately, Lent means spring. It symbolizes a time of renewal and rebirth, of things being made new. Spiritually, Lent invites us to focus on the centerpiece of Christianity: the death and resurrection of Christ. At Christmas we remember the fact that Jesus really was born, Son of God into this place of humanity. At Lent we remember the fact that Jesus really died and He really rose from the dead. These facts are startling, disruptive, extravagant. They should make us sit up, take notice, even jump up and down! But most of the time we forget their significance. We read our Bible, we go to church, we pray. . . and internally we yawn, because the startling has become stale. The beautiful has become ordinary. The miraculous has become mundane.
Lent is an invitation to remember the significance of Christ's claims. I love what Ty Saltzgiver writes in "40 Days of Lent": Lent is a time to "celebrate Jesus and to let His Death and Resurrection be central in our lives. Lent is a time for sacrifice and self-examination, for increased self-awareness and God-awareness, for spiritual refocus and renewing of our conversion, for seeing our own need for Grace, and for opening our hearts to be more captured by Jesus' love."
I love the practices of "giving up" and "taking on" during the Lent season. We give up something that is difficult and sacrificial, in order to remember Christ's sufferings and ultimate sacrifice. What I give up is almost always some type of food, because food is something I love. Whether celebrating or struggling, I run to food for my comfort. Giving up desserts or bread or caffeine always leads to repentance on my part. I am a comfort creature, who will let other things usurp Christ's place in my life. On a hard day, I can be placated with a plate of chocolate chip cookies and never turn towards the Savior who offers me so much more. "Giving up" something of power in my life, puts a spiritual magnifying glass on the state of my soul. I see the idols that compete for the centrality in my life that belongs to Christ alone. I repent. I am renewed. I am reconnected with Christ.
I also love "taking on"a practice that will nurture my soul in a special way. Usually for me it is a special devotional guide or a book. Some years I have prayed on my knees every morning. This year, I want to keep a "thankfulness journal," writing down something I am thankful for each day. Whatever I choose, it heightens my awareness of Christ. It leads me to contemplate and worship Him as my Savior.
But what I most love about Lent is how it prepares my heart for Easter! After six weeks of intentionally focusing on the life and death of Christ, I am ready to celebrate his resurrection. Easter morning breaks like a sunrise over my heart. I am filled with awe and gratitude at this God, whose hearts beats for redemption and who gave everything to make me His child. The mundane becomes miraculous!
Appropriately, Lent means spring. It symbolizes a time of renewal and rebirth, of things being made new. Spiritually, Lent invites us to focus on the centerpiece of Christianity: the death and resurrection of Christ. At Christmas we remember the fact that Jesus really was born, Son of God into this place of humanity. At Lent we remember the fact that Jesus really died and He really rose from the dead. These facts are startling, disruptive, extravagant. They should make us sit up, take notice, even jump up and down! But most of the time we forget their significance. We read our Bible, we go to church, we pray. . . and internally we yawn, because the startling has become stale. The beautiful has become ordinary. The miraculous has become mundane.
Lent is an invitation to remember the significance of Christ's claims. I love what Ty Saltzgiver writes in "40 Days of Lent": Lent is a time to "celebrate Jesus and to let His Death and Resurrection be central in our lives. Lent is a time for sacrifice and self-examination, for increased self-awareness and God-awareness, for spiritual refocus and renewing of our conversion, for seeing our own need for Grace, and for opening our hearts to be more captured by Jesus' love."
I love the practices of "giving up" and "taking on" during the Lent season. We give up something that is difficult and sacrificial, in order to remember Christ's sufferings and ultimate sacrifice. What I give up is almost always some type of food, because food is something I love. Whether celebrating or struggling, I run to food for my comfort. Giving up desserts or bread or caffeine always leads to repentance on my part. I am a comfort creature, who will let other things usurp Christ's place in my life. On a hard day, I can be placated with a plate of chocolate chip cookies and never turn towards the Savior who offers me so much more. "Giving up" something of power in my life, puts a spiritual magnifying glass on the state of my soul. I see the idols that compete for the centrality in my life that belongs to Christ alone. I repent. I am renewed. I am reconnected with Christ.
I also love "taking on"a practice that will nurture my soul in a special way. Usually for me it is a special devotional guide or a book. Some years I have prayed on my knees every morning. This year, I want to keep a "thankfulness journal," writing down something I am thankful for each day. Whatever I choose, it heightens my awareness of Christ. It leads me to contemplate and worship Him as my Savior.
But what I most love about Lent is how it prepares my heart for Easter! After six weeks of intentionally focusing on the life and death of Christ, I am ready to celebrate his resurrection. Easter morning breaks like a sunrise over my heart. I am filled with awe and gratitude at this God, whose hearts beats for redemption and who gave everything to make me His child. The mundane becomes miraculous!
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Daily Bread
Last week I read a soul-stirring devotional written by a dear friend's husband. The topic was on praying for God to give us our daily bread. He made the comparison of us receiving daily bread much like a hungry child consumes a meal -- taking big bites, scarfing it down quickly with no time to savor, eating as if she will never see food again. In my house, the chief goal of completing dinner is to get to DESSERT! Just as children can be greedy consumers, so can I. As quickly as I receive God's provision in the midst of a crazy day, I often go on to act like He won't provide for tomorrow's problems. So I worry and stir the waters of anxiety in my soul.
Part of the problem is not taking "small bites", not savoring what God gives and letting it nourish trust in my starved soul. But a bigger problem for me is not liking God's provision. I want to hurry through the unpleasant to get to dessert. Let me learn my lessons fast, so God will bring me blessing. I'm not willing to savor the ongoing process of God nourishing my soul over time. I want the quick and tasty spiritual blessings of peace and joy and love! ( Forget longsuffering, self-control and patience!)
As I was processing this devotional the other morning, God brought a phrase from Psalm 23 to mind: "You prepare a table for me in the presence of my enemies." The meaning for me was instantly clear: God is providing for me even when I feel oppressed. Oppression is my enemy and is often accompanied by Despair, Anger, Unforgiveness and Self-Pity. When difficulties mount and pain swells, I am quite sure God is not providing for me. I want my daily bread to be sweet, yummy and easy to swallow. Anything less and I question the goodness of the One offering it.
But what if daily bread sometimes comes packaged differently? What if God is actually nourishing my soul with a crazy diet of frustrated goals, relational pain and unmet longings? To be perfectly frank, what I really want is to feed myself. I would love a spiritual "meal planner" that left me inspired, motivated and more righteous. I would like a 7-point plan for following God and having victory. But I don't want to be reduced to a place of neediness and total dependence on God's provision. That feels scary and very out-of-control.
But I am suspecting that is precisely why God brings a crazy diet of dashed dreams, disappointments and pain. He is bringing me to the end of feeding myself. He is reducing me to a place of need, so to give me the spiritual food that really satisfies. He is giving me the faith of a child and feeding me with simple truthes. God is good. He can be trusted. He works ALL things to His good. Jesus loves me. Nothing can separate me from God's love.
Part of the problem is not taking "small bites", not savoring what God gives and letting it nourish trust in my starved soul. But a bigger problem for me is not liking God's provision. I want to hurry through the unpleasant to get to dessert. Let me learn my lessons fast, so God will bring me blessing. I'm not willing to savor the ongoing process of God nourishing my soul over time. I want the quick and tasty spiritual blessings of peace and joy and love! ( Forget longsuffering, self-control and patience!)
As I was processing this devotional the other morning, God brought a phrase from Psalm 23 to mind: "You prepare a table for me in the presence of my enemies." The meaning for me was instantly clear: God is providing for me even when I feel oppressed. Oppression is my enemy and is often accompanied by Despair, Anger, Unforgiveness and Self-Pity. When difficulties mount and pain swells, I am quite sure God is not providing for me. I want my daily bread to be sweet, yummy and easy to swallow. Anything less and I question the goodness of the One offering it.
But what if daily bread sometimes comes packaged differently? What if God is actually nourishing my soul with a crazy diet of frustrated goals, relational pain and unmet longings? To be perfectly frank, what I really want is to feed myself. I would love a spiritual "meal planner" that left me inspired, motivated and more righteous. I would like a 7-point plan for following God and having victory. But I don't want to be reduced to a place of neediness and total dependence on God's provision. That feels scary and very out-of-control.
But I am suspecting that is precisely why God brings a crazy diet of dashed dreams, disappointments and pain. He is bringing me to the end of feeding myself. He is reducing me to a place of need, so to give me the spiritual food that really satisfies. He is giving me the faith of a child and feeding me with simple truthes. God is good. He can be trusted. He works ALL things to His good. Jesus loves me. Nothing can separate me from God's love.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Best Efforts
This morning I got out a recipe for soup to make for dinner tonight, made a grocery list and laid plans to cook dinner before the afternoon driving started! But my efforts at organization were once again FOILED when the recipe disappeared! A thirty minute search failed to located it! A quick google search failed to find it! Where is the black hole in my house that so many things seem to disappear into: a lone flip-flop, a book of stamps, the dog's choke collar, important papers, a textbook. . . ?!!!
The lost recipe today seems like such a metaphor for my life: good intentions -- focused effort -- thwarted outcome. I am tired of trying and feeling crossed at every turn. I want control and it continues to elude me. It happened in school today when the boys whined, complained, evaded, distracted, disrupted and teased. What I want for them is good. Why is it so hard to achieve? Why does gratitude and self-discipline seem to disappear down that black hole with my recipe?
I was so tired and defeated by 3:00, I actually did something that is normally unthinkeable in the middle of the day. I pulled out a Bible and let it fall open to the first chapter of James:
Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing
of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be
perfect and complete, lacking in nothing. (verses 2-4)
What I hate more than losing things is feeling like my best efforts don't matter. And here is James saying, "take another look at these hard things. . . they matter. . . they serve a purpose. . . . they are re-making you and bringing wholeness and hope into your life. Look at trials in the right light and you can actually be thankful for them, even joyful."
Bring it, Lord. Change my perspective. Help me embrace the black hole as an instrument in Your hand. Let me believe that in "taking away" you are working to complete me. Give me joy in the midst of hard.
(The funny thing about the lost recipe is that it forced me to make the soup from memory. I had to "wing it" and the result was surprisingly delicious. Mmmmm. . . . I think God was highlighting the message for me.)
The lost recipe today seems like such a metaphor for my life: good intentions -- focused effort -- thwarted outcome. I am tired of trying and feeling crossed at every turn. I want control and it continues to elude me. It happened in school today when the boys whined, complained, evaded, distracted, disrupted and teased. What I want for them is good. Why is it so hard to achieve? Why does gratitude and self-discipline seem to disappear down that black hole with my recipe?
I was so tired and defeated by 3:00, I actually did something that is normally unthinkeable in the middle of the day. I pulled out a Bible and let it fall open to the first chapter of James:
Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing
of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be
perfect and complete, lacking in nothing. (verses 2-4)
What I hate more than losing things is feeling like my best efforts don't matter. And here is James saying, "take another look at these hard things. . . they matter. . . they serve a purpose. . . . they are re-making you and bringing wholeness and hope into your life. Look at trials in the right light and you can actually be thankful for them, even joyful."
Bring it, Lord. Change my perspective. Help me embrace the black hole as an instrument in Your hand. Let me believe that in "taking away" you are working to complete me. Give me joy in the midst of hard.
(The funny thing about the lost recipe is that it forced me to make the soup from memory. I had to "wing it" and the result was surprisingly delicious. Mmmmm. . . . I think God was highlighting the message for me.)
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