Here are eleven things I learned in 2011...
11 - No matter what anyone says, there are no do-over's in life. There are, however, opportunities to do better.
10 - When you put your faith in people (rather than God) you will always be disappointed... and chances are, so will they.
9 - My time with my kids is far more valuable than the money I was making working overtime.
8 - Saying "things couldn't get worse" usually means they're about to.
7 - When you make a mistake there is no one in the world who needs (and deserves) an apology more than your child.
6 - Forgiveness is really hard - to give, and sometimes to receive.
5 - Being a grown up is over-rated.
4 - The best friendships take a LOT of work.
3 - Single parenting isn't as hard as it looks on TV... it's MUCH harder.
2 - I'm not as smart as I think I am... and my kids are a whole lot smarter!
1 - I can do hard things - all things actually - through Christ who strengthens me.
Happy New Year... bring on 2012!
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Friday, December 9, 2011
Secrets and shame
What if we didn't have secrets?
What if we didn't have secrets?
I'm not talking about whispered grade-school crushes or surprises under the Christmas tree... Those secrets are part of the joys of life, they do not steal life away.
What if we didn't have secrets?
What if children - all children - had a voice and someone they could trust so they could speak of the horrors they've experienced rather than hiding them?
What if teenagers had something other than a razor blade or drugs or promiscuity to express the guilt and shame they feel?
What if women didn't cover up bruises and make excuses rather than admit their husband is beating them?
What if we didn't have secrets?
What if we could - safely - be transparent with each other about our struggles, our sins and our pain?
What if each and every one of us could truly renounce our "secret and shameful ways" before God and each other without fear of pity or condemnation?
What if we felt free to say, "I'm hurting," "My marriage is falling apart," "I'm struggling with pornography," "I had an abortion," "I was raped by my boyfriend," "I'm addicted to meth."?
What kind of world would we live in if Christians "let light shine out of darkness" and cleared out all of those deadly-secret places in the human soul? What kind of ministry would we have if we were not ashamed of our past, but rather delighted in the redemption God brings to our broken lives?
What if we, as Christians, refused to believe the lies "the god of this age" tells us?
We cannot be crushed, struck down or destroyed by our secrets if we refuse to carry them.
We will not despair if we fix our eyes on the glory of God instead of our past shame.
We will not lose heart if we understand that yesterday's troubles, and today's troubles, aren't meant to defeat us, but to glorify our Creator.
We will never, EVER be abandoned.
Your secrets and regrets
Are keeping you from going very far
And you can't let all this get you down
And keep you living in the dark
~PILLAR
2 Corinthians 4
1 Therefore, since through God’s mercy we have this ministry, we do not lose heart. 2 Rather, we have renounced secret and shameful ways; we do not use deception, nor do we distort the word of God. On the contrary, by setting forth the truth plainly we commend ourselves to everyone’s conscience in the sight of God. 3 And even if our gospel is veiled, it is veiled to those who are perishing. 4 The god of this age has blinded the minds of unbelievers, so that they cannot see the light of the gospel that displays the glory of Christ, who is the image of God. 5 For what we preach is not ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord, and ourselves as your servants for Jesus’ sake. 6 For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,”[a] made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God’s glory displayed in the face of Christ.
7 But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. 8 We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; 9 persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. 10 We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. 11 For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that his life may also be revealed in our mortal body. 12 So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you.
13 It is written: “I believed; therefore I have spoken.”[b] Since we have that same spirit of[c] faith, we also believe and therefore speak, 14 because we know that the one who raised the Lord Jesus from the dead will also raise us with Jesus and present us with you to himself. 15 All this is for your benefit, so that the grace that is reaching more and more people may cause thanksgiving to overflow to the glory of God.
16 Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. 17 For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. 18 So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.
What if we didn't have secrets?
I'm not talking about whispered grade-school crushes or surprises under the Christmas tree... Those secrets are part of the joys of life, they do not steal life away.
What if we didn't have secrets?
What if children - all children - had a voice and someone they could trust so they could speak of the horrors they've experienced rather than hiding them?
What if teenagers had something other than a razor blade or drugs or promiscuity to express the guilt and shame they feel?
What if women didn't cover up bruises and make excuses rather than admit their husband is beating them?
What if we didn't have secrets?
What if we could - safely - be transparent with each other about our struggles, our sins and our pain?
What if each and every one of us could truly renounce our "secret and shameful ways" before God and each other without fear of pity or condemnation?
What if we felt free to say, "I'm hurting," "My marriage is falling apart," "I'm struggling with pornography," "I had an abortion," "I was raped by my boyfriend," "I'm addicted to meth."?
What kind of world would we live in if Christians "let light shine out of darkness" and cleared out all of those deadly-secret places in the human soul? What kind of ministry would we have if we were not ashamed of our past, but rather delighted in the redemption God brings to our broken lives?
What if we, as Christians, refused to believe the lies "the god of this age" tells us?
"You're not good enough."
"You haven't really been forgiven."
"You'll never truly be free."
"God doesn't really want you, doesn't love you, won't save you..."
We cannot be crushed, struck down or destroyed by our secrets if we refuse to carry them.
We will not despair if we fix our eyes on the glory of God instead of our past shame.
We will not lose heart if we understand that yesterday's troubles, and today's troubles, aren't meant to defeat us, but to glorify our Creator.
We will never, EVER be abandoned.
What if you didn't have secrets?
Your secrets and regrets
Are keeping you from going very far
And you can't let all this get you down
And keep you living in the dark
~PILLAR
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Heavy
I want to tell you a story...
My friend is the youngest in a family that she readily admits is as dysfunctional as it gets. In this family are two brothers and two sisters. The two sisters - one born out of abuse and the other born into it - are solid Christians. The two brothers - who were the light in their mother's eyes - took paths away from God.
Six years ago, an 18 year old young man - son of the oldest sister - was so overcome with despair that he believed his only choice was at the end of a gun. His parents, younger brother and extended family were devastated. As the family gathered to mourn, something unspeakable came to light. And out of one young man's suicide three children were rescued from abuse and near death from starvation.
God redeems even the ugliest of circumstances. Those three children are happy, healthy and trust in the LORD for their salvation.
The sisters' faith grew, one brother questioned everything and the other was cast out for his choices. The matriarch of the family started reading the Bible. Different paths. Life goes on.
Flash forward to this weekend. The second son of the older sister spent the last six years on a spiral of destruction. It ended in the wee hours of Saturday morning. He drank until he passed out Friday night... and never woke up.
Two sons lost. Two sons buried.
God will redeem this too.
His aunt believes it... somewhere, out of the pain, his mom will believe it too.
Eventually.
How do you go to bed one night awash with thankfulness for family and then go to bed the next night awash with grief for a family broken forever? How do you wake up the next day?
With a heavy heart.
And hope for redemption?
My friend is the youngest in a family that she readily admits is as dysfunctional as it gets. In this family are two brothers and two sisters. The two sisters - one born out of abuse and the other born into it - are solid Christians. The two brothers - who were the light in their mother's eyes - took paths away from God.
Six years ago, an 18 year old young man - son of the oldest sister - was so overcome with despair that he believed his only choice was at the end of a gun. His parents, younger brother and extended family were devastated. As the family gathered to mourn, something unspeakable came to light. And out of one young man's suicide three children were rescued from abuse and near death from starvation.
God redeems even the ugliest of circumstances. Those three children are happy, healthy and trust in the LORD for their salvation.
The sisters' faith grew, one brother questioned everything and the other was cast out for his choices. The matriarch of the family started reading the Bible. Different paths. Life goes on.
Flash forward to this weekend. The second son of the older sister spent the last six years on a spiral of destruction. It ended in the wee hours of Saturday morning. He drank until he passed out Friday night... and never woke up.
Two sons lost. Two sons buried.
God will redeem this too.
His aunt believes it... somewhere, out of the pain, his mom will believe it too.
Eventually.
How do you go to bed one night awash with thankfulness for family and then go to bed the next night awash with grief for a family broken forever? How do you wake up the next day?
With a heavy heart.
And hope for redemption?
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Beyond the PAIL.
Today is a day of remembrance for those who have experienced pregnancy and infant loss (p.a.i.l.).
I warn you, I'm cheating a little today by re-posting something from two years ago, but it applies as much today as it did then. You can read the full post here.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
There is no grief that can compare to losing a baby.
One day you're holding your rounded belly and laughing at each nudge and kick. Then before you know it, your belly is ominously silent. What was once full of hope and dreams is terrifyingly empty.
There's a hollow place there that's more than an empty womb.
It's an empty life.
It's empty arms... an empty cradle... and an empty heart.
It's the first bath, first smile, first laugh, first crawl, first tooth, first birthday, first step, first day of school, first report card, first crush, first date, first dance, first kiss, first love, first grandchild.... all those firsts that never come.
It's the hollow under the Christmas tree where presents should have been.
It's the birthdays you can't celebrate or even acknowledge because people forget.
It's the closet you clean out, the toys you box up, the furniture you pack away and the gifts you return.
It's the memories you don't have, because you never had the chance to make any.
It's the faith that seems irreparably shaken by a God who takes away what He's given.
It's the dreams that died and the hopes you mourn.
Ten and a half years ago I sat in the front pew of my church as a little white casket was carried to the front and the pastor said something I'm sure was poignant and meaningful - I didn't hear a word he said. I shook hands and accepted hugs and flowers and food from well-meaning people - I didn't see a single face. I stood in a cemetery next to a tiny grave on a February afternoon - I didn't feel the cold.
I stood there as my mom patted me on the back and said, "It's ok. It's ok" All the while, I wanted to scream,
Because it isn't ok. It is never ok to bury a child.
Sure, the grief gets lighter and the days stop blurring and one morning you will wake up and you won't immediately be reminded of your loss. Eventually you'll get through a whole day without weeping... then a week... a month. I haven't yet made it a whole year, but maybe some people get there eventually.
You see, the grief never really goes away, but whether we like it or not, life goes on. There's always a new day and another step to take. We keep doing what we have to do, no matter how hard, until it becomes easy again.
If you've recently lost a baby, I am so sorry. But I promise you, the day will come when you can breathe again. The day will come when you can dream and laugh and hope again.
Until that day... cry my friend, my sister. Weep and mourn and rage at the terrible unfairness of life in a fallen world. Sob alone into your pillow or in a crowd of people. Beat your fists against the wall and cry out your anger and pain to the God you wish had spared your baby.
He can take it.
He understands.
He lost a son too.
Mourn beloved. Because there will be a morning.
I promise.
~~~~~~~~~
Women in our world are hurting - perhaps you're one of them - and we are called to the least of these.
My challenge to you:
Go to someone you know who has experienced a loss and tell them that you remember - and that God remembers too.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. (Matt 5:4)
I warn you, I'm cheating a little today by re-posting something from two years ago, but it applies as much today as it did then. You can read the full post here.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
There is no grief that can compare to losing a baby.
One day you're holding your rounded belly and laughing at each nudge and kick. Then before you know it, your belly is ominously silent. What was once full of hope and dreams is terrifyingly empty.
There's a hollow place there that's more than an empty womb.
It's an empty life.
It's empty arms... an empty cradle... and an empty heart.
It's the first bath, first smile, first laugh, first crawl, first tooth, first birthday, first step, first day of school, first report card, first crush, first date, first dance, first kiss, first love, first grandchild.... all those firsts that never come.
It's the hollow under the Christmas tree where presents should have been.
It's the birthdays you can't celebrate or even acknowledge because people forget.
It's the closet you clean out, the toys you box up, the furniture you pack away and the gifts you return.
It's the memories you don't have, because you never had the chance to make any.
It's the faith that seems irreparably shaken by a God who takes away what He's given.
It's the dreams that died and the hopes you mourn.
Ten and a half years ago I sat in the front pew of my church as a little white casket was carried to the front and the pastor said something I'm sure was poignant and meaningful - I didn't hear a word he said. I shook hands and accepted hugs and flowers and food from well-meaning people - I didn't see a single face. I stood in a cemetery next to a tiny grave on a February afternoon - I didn't feel the cold.
I stood there as my mom patted me on the back and said, "It's ok. It's ok" All the while, I wanted to scream,
"IT IS NOT OK!!!"
Because it isn't ok. It is never ok to bury a child.
Sure, the grief gets lighter and the days stop blurring and one morning you will wake up and you won't immediately be reminded of your loss. Eventually you'll get through a whole day without weeping... then a week... a month. I haven't yet made it a whole year, but maybe some people get there eventually.
You see, the grief never really goes away, but whether we like it or not, life goes on. There's always a new day and another step to take. We keep doing what we have to do, no matter how hard, until it becomes easy again.
If you've recently lost a baby, I am so sorry. But I promise you, the day will come when you can breathe again. The day will come when you can dream and laugh and hope again.
Until that day... cry my friend, my sister. Weep and mourn and rage at the terrible unfairness of life in a fallen world. Sob alone into your pillow or in a crowd of people. Beat your fists against the wall and cry out your anger and pain to the God you wish had spared your baby.
He can take it.
He understands.
He lost a son too.
Mourn beloved. Because there will be a morning.
I promise.
~~~~~~~~~
Women in our world are hurting - perhaps you're one of them - and we are called to the least of these.
My challenge to you:
Go to someone you know who has experienced a loss and tell them that you remember - and that God remembers too.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. (Matt 5:4)
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Bitter
Bitterness... it has absolutely no place in Kingdom thinking, but it's so hard to overcome, isn't it?
I found out on Tuesday that I have essentially been demoted.
I work at a residential treatment facility that provides culturally relevant care to Native American teenagers. I serve both as direct line staff and as the program's case manager. I'm passionate about the work I do and I love my job. However, in June I was seriously injured (second time in a year) during a series of physical restraints with clients. Despite months of physical therapy, it looks as though I will not be able to return to full duties in the milieu (meaning every day treatment with the kids).
Recently, the powers that be decided that my case management duties should be melded into a "clinical liaison" position which includes running therapy groups under the supervision of the therapists and working even more closely with the community supports for our clients. I was thrilled. This is the kind of work I want to do as I move toward graduate school.
I had to apply for the position, but I (foolishly) assumed that I would be the ideal candidate.
Assumptions.
I waited and waited for word, and when I finally received it, it was that I am "not qualified" to do a job I've been doing for over a year. But... I'm qualified enough, and expected, to train the person replacing me and continue fulfilling the case management duties while said person is trained on the other aspects of the position. And then go back to being a direct line staff, with the resultant cut in pay, answering to supervisors I trained, doing work my body may not be able to handle anymore.
Say what?
The powers that be don't call it a demotion. But it is. I'm being demoted through absolutely no fault of my own - simply because someone decided someone with a Master's degree could do it better.
I can feel the bitterness roaring in and taking over as I type.
How do I do this?
How can I possibly show Christ to the person who "took" my job when all I really want to do is shred all of my work and say, "I refuse to help you."?
I don't want to think about the Kingdom.
I want to think about myself and what I've lost.
I want to tantrum and pout.
And that'll change.
I hope?
I found out on Tuesday that I have essentially been demoted.
I work at a residential treatment facility that provides culturally relevant care to Native American teenagers. I serve both as direct line staff and as the program's case manager. I'm passionate about the work I do and I love my job. However, in June I was seriously injured (second time in a year) during a series of physical restraints with clients. Despite months of physical therapy, it looks as though I will not be able to return to full duties in the milieu (meaning every day treatment with the kids).
Recently, the powers that be decided that my case management duties should be melded into a "clinical liaison" position which includes running therapy groups under the supervision of the therapists and working even more closely with the community supports for our clients. I was thrilled. This is the kind of work I want to do as I move toward graduate school.
I had to apply for the position, but I (foolishly) assumed that I would be the ideal candidate.
Assumptions.
I waited and waited for word, and when I finally received it, it was that I am "not qualified" to do a job I've been doing for over a year. But... I'm qualified enough, and expected, to train the person replacing me and continue fulfilling the case management duties while said person is trained on the other aspects of the position. And then go back to being a direct line staff, with the resultant cut in pay, answering to supervisors I trained, doing work my body may not be able to handle anymore.
Say what?
The powers that be don't call it a demotion. But it is. I'm being demoted through absolutely no fault of my own - simply because someone decided someone with a Master's degree could do it better.
I can feel the bitterness roaring in and taking over as I type.
How do I do this?
How can I possibly show Christ to the person who "took" my job when all I really want to do is shred all of my work and say, "I refuse to help you."?
I don't want to think about the Kingdom.
I want to think about myself and what I've lost.
I want to tantrum and pout.
And that'll change.
I hope?
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Poor Me
I'm coming out of the chaos that is my life for a few minutes. I've said it before and I'll say it again: October is a really hard month for me.
Maybe writing isn't a wise thing on my part... but maybe not.
Who says that you can't be Kingdom-minded when you're in the midst of your own personal storm?
Is it hard? Absolutely.
Everything about my life right now screams at me to focus on my own hurt and my own misery. It's like there's a huge neon sign hanging over my past flashing "Look at me!"
But the Kingdom of God is build upon the redeemed pieces of broken lives - made new and whole by the blood of the Lamb.
Do you hear me?
Our God chooses the poor in spirit to build His Kingdom.
He chooses the hurting, the weak and the broken... because His power is made perfect in our weakness.
Maybe writing isn't a wise thing on my part... but maybe not.
Who says that you can't be Kingdom-minded when you're in the midst of your own personal storm?
Is it hard? Absolutely.
Everything about my life right now screams at me to focus on my own hurt and my own misery. It's like there's a huge neon sign hanging over my past flashing "Look at me!"
But the Kingdom of God is build upon the redeemed pieces of broken lives - made new and whole by the blood of the Lamb.
Do you hear me?
Our God chooses the poor in spirit to build His Kingdom.
He chooses the hurting, the weak and the broken... because His power is made perfect in our weakness.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Tonight
This evening, my kids and I went, as we always do, to a friend's house for pizza, movies and games. Typical Saturday night. An adorable two year old crushing on my 12 year old son. An awkward husband fluttering on the edges of half-a-dozen women. Three sets of sisters snapping and loving all at once. Silliness, laughter and way too much junk food.
But in the midst of the ordinary was a Kingdom moment.
Have you ever looked at someone with a slight air of superiority and just assumed that they would never really get it together? That they would always be a little less mature, devoted, respectable than the average church-goer? Assumptions really do make a fool out of you.
She was one of those people we so readily dismiss.
In the midst of the frenetic energy of the night, she leaned in with a big smile on her face and said, "I've been listening to Jesus music all week!" She usually listens to the trashy party music that is rotting away the airwaves.
A few minutes later she said that she was also working on the things that come out of her mouth. She's usually throwing out a few F-bombs and not the least bit ashamed of it.
She said that she'd decided that God deserved more of her life than she'd given Him.
That was it. The end of the conversation.
And yet, what could be more profound?
God deserves more of our life than we've given Him.
She's ready to change that... are you?
But in the midst of the ordinary was a Kingdom moment.
Have you ever looked at someone with a slight air of superiority and just assumed that they would never really get it together? That they would always be a little less mature, devoted, respectable than the average church-goer? Assumptions really do make a fool out of you.
She was one of those people we so readily dismiss.
In the midst of the frenetic energy of the night, she leaned in with a big smile on her face and said, "I've been listening to Jesus music all week!" She usually listens to the trashy party music that is rotting away the airwaves.
A few minutes later she said that she was also working on the things that come out of her mouth. She's usually throwing out a few F-bombs and not the least bit ashamed of it.
She said that she'd decided that God deserved more of her life than she'd given Him.
That was it. The end of the conversation.
And yet, what could be more profound?
God deserves more of our life than we've given Him.
She's ready to change that... are you?
Friday, October 7, 2011
All things
"...whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God." 1 Corinthians 10:31
What does that really mean?
If you're anything like me, and most Christians are, you have the "God things" in your life (church, prayer time, Christian music, Bible study)... and then there's everything else. And yet Scripture shows us over and over again, that everything should be "God things" and there shouldn't be room for anything else.
I'm not saying you have to spend every waking moment in church, singing worship songs and making a career out of vocational ministry. Don't mistake me here. You don't have to pastor a church or be a missionary in Africa to be on mission for God. Some are called to be pastors and evangelists, others are not. (It really is ok if you aren't).
What I am saying though, is that the King and His Kingdom should not be an afterthought in our lives.
I want to wake up and breathe in my Creator. I want to see Him, smell Him, hear Him and speak Him in all things. And more than that, I want people to know Him by looking at me.
But to do that, I have to let go of those things I hold back from God. More than that, I have to let go of those things I hold instead of God.
Isn't that a tall order?
What does that really mean?
One cannot be Kingdom-minded without being utterly devoted to the King.
If you're anything like me, and most Christians are, you have the "God things" in your life (church, prayer time, Christian music, Bible study)... and then there's everything else. And yet Scripture shows us over and over again, that everything should be "God things" and there shouldn't be room for anything else.
I'm not saying you have to spend every waking moment in church, singing worship songs and making a career out of vocational ministry. Don't mistake me here. You don't have to pastor a church or be a missionary in Africa to be on mission for God. Some are called to be pastors and evangelists, others are not. (It really is ok if you aren't).
What I am saying though, is that the King and His Kingdom should not be an afterthought in our lives.
I want to wake up and breathe in my Creator. I want to see Him, smell Him, hear Him and speak Him in all things. And more than that, I want people to know Him by looking at me.
But to do that, I have to let go of those things I hold back from God. More than that, I have to let go of those things I hold instead of God.
Isn't that a tall order?
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Getting messy
It's taking a lot of emotional energy to post today, and yet here I am. This is a horrible time of year for me - lots of unhappy anniversaries and associations. I have a lot of things in my past that I struggle with, and sometimes those struggles can get pretty ugly. It's hard to see God and His Kingdom when my face is in the muck.
Did you know that 1 in 4 people struggle with serious mental illness at some point in their lives? Did you know that the statistics for Christians are just about identical with the rest of the world? And that 2/3 of people who suffer from mental illness - especially Christians - don't seek any kind of help?
Care to wonder why?
Christians are really good at shooting their wounded. When it comes to the mind, suffering is seen as a personal failure... a spiritual failure. So the church turns it's back on people who can't pull themselves up by their proverbial bootstraps and just get over it already. "If you're suffering, you're sinning."
And let's face it, mental illness is messy business. There's crying and yelling. There's weird behavior and Lord knows there's plenty of sin. There's hideous stories of abuse and neglect. Mucky, messy, stinking midden piles of YUCK. And who likes to get dirty? We like to insulate ourselves from the realities of life in a fallen world and we love to put things in a nice, tidy, proper order that has no room for mess.
Don't talk about the voices you hear inside your head. Don't mention the drugs you turn to to deaden the emotional pain. Don't speak about the violent rape you endured as a child and the resulting paranoia and rage. Don't tell anyone you take a prescription drug cocktail that makes you fat and numb and uninterested in the world. Don't you dare show anyone the scars that lace up and down your arms and legs. And please, please, please don't you ever, ever mention that you're thinking about ending your life. It just isn't proper.
3,000 people in the world killed themselves today. Another 6,000 tried. 9/11 was a national tragedy, but that same loss of life plays itself out every single day because people are broken and lost and some people are too appalled to get their hands dirty.
Where is the church in these people's lives? People commit suicide because they've lost hope - or they never had it. They look at their lives and see something utterly irredeemable - even Christians fall for that lie sometimes. I nearly did. Where is our answer for the hope that we have?
What if being Kingdom-minded meant getting right in the middle of human despair? What if it meant letting someone snotty-cry all over you? What if it meant cleaning up vomit for a teenager going through withdrawal? What if it meant bandaging up a bleeding wrist, or sitting next to someone as they cut on themselves? What if it meant hearing the horrific stories, confronting the hallucinations and getting screamed at or hit because you're the closest target? What if being Kingdom-minded meant you would have to get down in the muck and get filthy dirty and oh-so-improper to offer hope to someone who is hurting?
Could you do it?
Did you know that 1 in 4 people struggle with serious mental illness at some point in their lives? Did you know that the statistics for Christians are just about identical with the rest of the world? And that 2/3 of people who suffer from mental illness - especially Christians - don't seek any kind of help?
Care to wonder why?
Christians are really good at shooting their wounded. When it comes to the mind, suffering is seen as a personal failure... a spiritual failure. So the church turns it's back on people who can't pull themselves up by their proverbial bootstraps and just get over it already. "If you're suffering, you're sinning."
And let's face it, mental illness is messy business. There's crying and yelling. There's weird behavior and Lord knows there's plenty of sin. There's hideous stories of abuse and neglect. Mucky, messy, stinking midden piles of YUCK. And who likes to get dirty? We like to insulate ourselves from the realities of life in a fallen world and we love to put things in a nice, tidy, proper order that has no room for mess.
Don't talk about the voices you hear inside your head. Don't mention the drugs you turn to to deaden the emotional pain. Don't speak about the violent rape you endured as a child and the resulting paranoia and rage. Don't tell anyone you take a prescription drug cocktail that makes you fat and numb and uninterested in the world. Don't you dare show anyone the scars that lace up and down your arms and legs. And please, please, please don't you ever, ever mention that you're thinking about ending your life. It just isn't proper.
3,000 people in the world killed themselves today. Another 6,000 tried. 9/11 was a national tragedy, but that same loss of life plays itself out every single day because people are broken and lost and some people are too appalled to get their hands dirty.
Where is the church in these people's lives? People commit suicide because they've lost hope - or they never had it. They look at their lives and see something utterly irredeemable - even Christians fall for that lie sometimes. I nearly did. Where is our answer for the hope that we have?
What if being Kingdom-minded meant getting right in the middle of human despair? What if it meant letting someone snotty-cry all over you? What if it meant cleaning up vomit for a teenager going through withdrawal? What if it meant bandaging up a bleeding wrist, or sitting next to someone as they cut on themselves? What if it meant hearing the horrific stories, confronting the hallucinations and getting screamed at or hit because you're the closest target? What if being Kingdom-minded meant you would have to get down in the muck and get filthy dirty and oh-so-improper to offer hope to someone who is hurting?
Could you do it?
Monday, October 3, 2011
Unexpected
Today didn't quite go as planned.
It kind of strikes me that Kingdom matters are rarely what we expect them to be either. They never really have been.
God keeps His promises, but He sure enjoys the unexpected.
Just look at history.
The second son who tricked his way into an inheritance - and became Israel.
The stuttering man raised by the daughter of a pagan king - who led God's people out of Egypt.
The prostitute who entertained spies - and joined a holy bloodline.
The foreigner woman who slept at the feet of a relative - and became great-grandmother to a king.
The scrawny boy child who tended his father's sheep - and killed a giant.
Drunken prophets, angry kings... seducers, beggars, whiners, liars, betrayers, deniers, doubters, murderers...
God used the messiest people that man had to offer.
And most unexpected of all?
A squalling infant, born among animals to an unwed mother - one who grew up to be a simple carpenter in the good-for-nothing town of Nazareth... who ate with sinners, walked on water, walked with lepers, knocked over tables, cherished children... and died for creation.
Being Kingdom minded means embracing the unexpected. Kingdom thinking means seeing through God's eyes rather than filtering His will through our own expectations.
We want to be in charge, but we aren't
We want to determine what is best, but we don't.
We want to write the rules, but we can't.
We want to make the plans, but we aren't even remotely qualified.
And yet... He's entrusted His Church to us, and His Word.
So what are we going to do about it?
It kind of strikes me that Kingdom matters are rarely what we expect them to be either. They never really have been.
God keeps His promises, but He sure enjoys the unexpected.
Just look at history.
The second son who tricked his way into an inheritance - and became Israel.
The stuttering man raised by the daughter of a pagan king - who led God's people out of Egypt.
The prostitute who entertained spies - and joined a holy bloodline.
The foreigner woman who slept at the feet of a relative - and became great-grandmother to a king.
The scrawny boy child who tended his father's sheep - and killed a giant.
Drunken prophets, angry kings... seducers, beggars, whiners, liars, betrayers, deniers, doubters, murderers...
God used the messiest people that man had to offer.
And most unexpected of all?
A squalling infant, born among animals to an unwed mother - one who grew up to be a simple carpenter in the good-for-nothing town of Nazareth... who ate with sinners, walked on water, walked with lepers, knocked over tables, cherished children... and died for creation.
Being Kingdom minded means embracing the unexpected. Kingdom thinking means seeing through God's eyes rather than filtering His will through our own expectations.
We want to be in charge, but we aren't
We want to determine what is best, but we don't.
We want to write the rules, but we can't.
We want to make the plans, but we aren't even remotely qualified.
And yet... He's entrusted His Church to us, and His Word.
So what are we going to do about it?
Let's do the unexpected.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
The price of Kingdom thinking
Going back to this weekend, Tim Brown told a story about a woman in his church who approached him after a particularly moving service. She said, "Pastor, I would do anything, give up my life even, if my children and grandchildren would just come to church!" Fresh out of a confrontation with an angry church lady about new people sitting in "her pew", Tim asked this grandmother a series of questions kind of like these:
And it gets better.
- Are you willing to give up your pew so your children and grandchildren have a place to sit?
- Are you willing to give up your parking space by the door so your children and grandchildren have a place to park?
- Are you willing to give up your music preferences so your children and grandchildren can learn to worship Jesus in a style that is relevant to them?
- Are you willing to give up your "program" and it's leaders so your children and grandchildren can have someone to lead them to Christ?
- Are you willing to give up your translation of the Bible so your children and grandchildren can hear the Good News in language they can understand?
- Are you willing to work in the children's department or youth department or young adult department so your children and grandchildren can learn about God's Word in a way that is age-appropriate?
If you're anything like me, the answers to those questions are distressingly uncomfortable.How much time during an average day do you spend:
- Reading a novel?
- Watching TV?
- Searching the internet?
- Finding an app for that?
- Lying in bed?
- Talking about work?
- Serving yourself?
And it gets better.
How much time during an average day do you spend:
- Reading
a novelthe Bible?- Watching
TVfor open doors?- Searching the
internetScriptures?- Finding
an app for thata way to apply God’s Word?- Lying
in bedon your face in prayer?- Talking about
workhow God is working in your life?- Serving your
selfGod and your community?
How many of us spend time doing something to escape from the world when we should be doing something to help the world escape from hell?
This would be what I (not-always-lovingly) call one of God's 2x4s being swung soundly at my backside. How about you? What if you and I did something radical? What if we chose just one of those things on the list above and replaced it with the work God has for us?
Kingdom thinking.Saturday, October 1, 2011
What we think about God
This weekend I attended a conference led by Tim Brown, a pastor who heads a congregation in Clovis, CA. To say that I received a healthy dose of spiritual discipline would be an understatement akin to calling the Biblical flood a rain shower. It was powerful.
And what we do (or don't do) for God shows the world what we truly think about Him. Scary thought, isn't it?
Two years or so ago, I wrote this post about surrender. It was all about how my thoughts about God effected my actions toward God. They were pretty disturbing thoughts... but I wasn't always aware of them. I lived them every day, reacted to them every day, but I couldn't recognize them. Or I didn't want to.
I tried and tried and tried to trust God, to be obedient to Him, to spend time with Him and give Him my all. I tried to stop cutting, stop lying, stop cursing, stop envying, stop resenting, stop stop sinning... I tried to change my behavior without ever addressing the thoughts that led to those behaviors. I didn't "take captive every thought," instead my thoughts made a captive out of me.
My God is in the business of renewing minds. Changing thoughts. Revolutionizing belief so His people can do His will and build His Kingdom.
Behavior flows out of belief, not the other way around.
Lord, today I'm asking You to renew me. Show me the thoughts that keep me inward-focused instead of Kingdom-minded and help me take them captive. Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.
What we think about God fuels how we feel about God, which determines what we do for God.
And what we do (or don't do) for God shows the world what we truly think about Him. Scary thought, isn't it?
Two years or so ago, I wrote this post about surrender. It was all about how my thoughts about God effected my actions toward God. They were pretty disturbing thoughts... but I wasn't always aware of them. I lived them every day, reacted to them every day, but I couldn't recognize them. Or I didn't want to.
I tried and tried and tried to trust God, to be obedient to Him, to spend time with Him and give Him my all. I tried to stop cutting, stop lying, stop cursing, stop envying, stop resenting, stop stop sinning... I tried to change my behavior without ever addressing the thoughts that led to those behaviors. I didn't "take captive every thought," instead my thoughts made a captive out of me.
My God is in the business of renewing minds. Changing thoughts. Revolutionizing belief so His people can do His will and build His Kingdom.
Behavior flows out of belief, not the other way around.
Lord, today I'm asking You to renew me. Show me the thoughts that keep me inward-focused instead of Kingdom-minded and help me take them captive. Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
The dimly lit path
I have a friend who has always considered faith as her chief spiritual gift - near-boasted on it, honestly. She has always gone merrily on her way through life saying, "I'm not worried, God has it under control!" Fabulous stuff. Blessed stuff. She has always felt God; seen Him moving and found joy and peace in it.
But...
Some of us don't - can't - live life that way.
Glimpses, sure. But we don't live in that all the time.
Some of us never will.
For some of us, faith isn't - can't be - a feeling.
Faith is knowing even though you don't feel it.
Faith is walking, even when the path isn't visible before you.
Faith is leaping blindly into the arms you know are there, even though all of your emotions say you are utterly alone.
For some of us.
Because some of us never feel it.
We just do. And hope - in the Biblical sense - that things will turn out exactly as God means for them to be.
Maybe it's my disorder - a function of the trauma and depression that has clouded my life. Or maybe, it's what God has planned for me. This life can prosper me too.
Some of us never have that pre-fall-like feeling of walking with God in a figurative Garden.
The Word is a lamp to our feet, barely one step ahead.
The path is lit, inch by frightening, painful inch.
And we still walk it.
We walk with Him because we know He's there - because we've stopped needing to feel Him to know Him.
For those of us who don't feel it, it can be a little annoying to listen to those who do - as they talk about life as they know it and wonder why we just can't get it in gear. Because they have Faith. It's their spiritual gift and it feels great!
Until the day comes when they don't feel God.
I imagine it's devastating - to feel something all the time, and then lose that feeling.
I imagine it's confusing, in a world where "I'm not worried, God has it under control!" is modus operandi for life.
Human nature would lead to some sort of smugness.
Human nature would revel in those people getting a taste of our experience.
"You thought you were so superior in your wonderful, emotional faith. Bet you don't feel so wonderful now."
But Christ-nature is different. Radically.
My Jesus knows what it feels like to walk in the deepest possible intimacy with God-the-Father. He is God after all.
My Jesus also knows what it's like to feel utterly alone - "My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?"
My Jesus knows what it's like to have the world go black and feel a void where God should be.
But He stayed on the Cross. He obeyed His Father. He yielded to His Father's will - His own will.
Because He knows God without feeling Him.
My friend is in the midst of a season of feeling bereft.
I can't tell her I know what it's like to feel lost - to lose something so deep and intimate and wonderful.
Because I don't life that life.
But I can tell her I know what it's like to not feel God.
I can tell her I know what it's like to just do without feeling.
I can remind her that if the very BEST humanity has to offer - in the person of Jesus, a carpenter of Nazareth - can feel alone, it's okay for her to feel alone too.
Walk the dimly lit path, my friend.
It isn't so bad.
It isn't so scary.
It just is.
One step ahead or a dozen, the One who lights the way is still lighting the way.
It isn't a bad way to live, it's just different.
But...
Some of us don't - can't - live life that way.
Glimpses, sure. But we don't live in that all the time.
Some of us never will.
For some of us, faith isn't - can't be - a feeling.
Faith is knowing even though you don't feel it.
Faith is walking, even when the path isn't visible before you.
Faith is leaping blindly into the arms you know are there, even though all of your emotions say you are utterly alone.
For some of us.
Because some of us never feel it.
We just do. And hope - in the Biblical sense - that things will turn out exactly as God means for them to be.
Maybe it's my disorder - a function of the trauma and depression that has clouded my life. Or maybe, it's what God has planned for me. This life can prosper me too.
Some of us never have that pre-fall-like feeling of walking with God in a figurative Garden.
The Word is a lamp to our feet, barely one step ahead.
The path is lit, inch by frightening, painful inch.
And we still walk it.
We walk with Him because we know He's there - because we've stopped needing to feel Him to know Him.
For those of us who don't feel it, it can be a little annoying to listen to those who do - as they talk about life as they know it and wonder why we just can't get it in gear. Because they have Faith. It's their spiritual gift and it feels great!
Until the day comes when they don't feel God.
I imagine it's devastating - to feel something all the time, and then lose that feeling.
I imagine it's confusing, in a world where "I'm not worried, God has it under control!" is modus operandi for life.
Human nature would lead to some sort of smugness.
Human nature would revel in those people getting a taste of our experience.
"You thought you were so superior in your wonderful, emotional faith. Bet you don't feel so wonderful now."
But Christ-nature is different. Radically.
My Jesus knows what it feels like to walk in the deepest possible intimacy with God-the-Father. He is God after all.
My Jesus also knows what it's like to feel utterly alone - "My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?"
My Jesus knows what it's like to have the world go black and feel a void where God should be.
But He stayed on the Cross. He obeyed His Father. He yielded to His Father's will - His own will.
Because He knows God without feeling Him.
My friend is in the midst of a season of feeling bereft.
I can't tell her I know what it's like to feel lost - to lose something so deep and intimate and wonderful.
Because I don't life that life.
But I can tell her I know what it's like to not feel God.
I can tell her I know what it's like to just do without feeling.
I can remind her that if the very BEST humanity has to offer - in the person of Jesus, a carpenter of Nazareth - can feel alone, it's okay for her to feel alone too.
Walk the dimly lit path, my friend.
It isn't so bad.
It isn't so scary.
It just is.
One step ahead or a dozen, the One who lights the way is still lighting the way.
It isn't a bad way to live, it's just different.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
10 years
"Where were you when...?" is the question on everyone's lips right now. It's one of those surreal moments in life where I can hear the echoes of my own voice in the questions of my children.
I remember asking my mom where she was when JFK was assassinated. I remember asking my dad what he was doing when, as a 9 year old in Podunkville eastern Oregon, he heard the news about Pearl Harbor over the radio.
I never expected to hear my children ask me the same question.
Moments in history are moments of life. A nursing baby, two toddlers in diapers, laundry to do, a kitchen to clean... just plain, ordinary moments until four planes and nearly 3,000 deaths changed history forever. All of a sudden those completely unmemorable moments are burned into your mind and become the stuff of history - the answer to "where were you?"
Life has to go on though, you know? The baby still needs nursing, the diapers still need changing, the laundry still needs doing and the house still needs cleaning. Life still has ordinary moments in the midst of great tragedy, but somehow, for a while at least, they don't seem so ordinary.
You kiss your baby's head a little longer, because his future isn't as certain as it was a few hours ago. You walk out to the trash with the full diaper pail and look at the sky, just wondering what comes next. For the first time, it crosses your mind that the meal you're about to make could be the last. Even though 99.9% of life is exactly the same, everything feels different.
Until it doesn't.
Security slowly creeps its way back in. The "new normal" is just normal. And you know what? That's ok. The best way to honor those who lost their lives is to live our own.
"Act justly, love mercy, walk humbly with your God." (Micah 6:8)
I remember asking my mom where she was when JFK was assassinated. I remember asking my dad what he was doing when, as a 9 year old in Podunkville eastern Oregon, he heard the news about Pearl Harbor over the radio.
I never expected to hear my children ask me the same question.
Moments in history are moments of life. A nursing baby, two toddlers in diapers, laundry to do, a kitchen to clean... just plain, ordinary moments until four planes and nearly 3,000 deaths changed history forever. All of a sudden those completely unmemorable moments are burned into your mind and become the stuff of history - the answer to "where were you?"
Life has to go on though, you know? The baby still needs nursing, the diapers still need changing, the laundry still needs doing and the house still needs cleaning. Life still has ordinary moments in the midst of great tragedy, but somehow, for a while at least, they don't seem so ordinary.
You kiss your baby's head a little longer, because his future isn't as certain as it was a few hours ago. You walk out to the trash with the full diaper pail and look at the sky, just wondering what comes next. For the first time, it crosses your mind that the meal you're about to make could be the last. Even though 99.9% of life is exactly the same, everything feels different.
Until it doesn't.
Security slowly creeps its way back in. The "new normal" is just normal. And you know what? That's ok. The best way to honor those who lost their lives is to live our own.
"Act justly, love mercy, walk humbly with your God." (Micah 6:8)
Saturday, September 10, 2011
It's been a while...
Hi.
I feel kind of like the wayward child returning home unannounced to Sunday dinner - only it isn't Sunday and there's no dinner to be seen.
And I'm thinkin' the resounding silence of the last 9 months means the house is empty and there isn't anyone sitting at the table either.
That's ok. Really.
I started blogging for me - because I wanted to have a voice that was public, even if I was speaking to an audience of one. I stopped blogging for me too - because I needed to find a different kind of voice; one that doesn't hide behind a computer screen or a piece of paper to speak the truth about my life.
I needed to find a way to say things while looking someone in the eye. Happy things. Hard things. Hopeful things. Hellish things. Heavenly things. I needed to say them. To acknowledge them and to see them reflected back at me without judgment, shame or (heaven forbid) pity.
I'm learning to do that. I'm learning to trust people enough to do that.
So here I am, back at my keyboard, back at my blog... for me.
God alone knows where this is going.
I feel kind of like the wayward child returning home unannounced to Sunday dinner - only it isn't Sunday and there's no dinner to be seen.
And I'm thinkin' the resounding silence of the last 9 months means the house is empty and there isn't anyone sitting at the table either.
That's ok. Really.
I started blogging for me - because I wanted to have a voice that was public, even if I was speaking to an audience of one. I stopped blogging for me too - because I needed to find a different kind of voice; one that doesn't hide behind a computer screen or a piece of paper to speak the truth about my life.
I needed to find a way to say things while looking someone in the eye. Happy things. Hard things. Hopeful things. Hellish things. Heavenly things. I needed to say them. To acknowledge them and to see them reflected back at me without judgment, shame or (heaven forbid) pity.
I'm learning to do that. I'm learning to trust people enough to do that.
So here I am, back at my keyboard, back at my blog... for me.
God alone knows where this is going.
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