So, I've been places, I've done things, and now I'm back. Hopefully that's good enough because I'm not a fan of making excuses and I really have gone and done so much, changed so very much, in ways that only a Living God could do in me. It will all come out in drips and drabs through the things I'll be relating now and in the future, I'm sure.
The beginning of all the changes came when the LORD brought me to a therapist a few months ago. I was stuck. I was in a depressive spiral that nothing could seem to pull me through or out of. I prayed and received my answer of 2 people, one who knows me intimately and one who didn't know me from Adam, saying "Yeah, you might want to talk to a professional about that." So, recognizing it for what it was, I submitted myself to His greater wisdom.
I've never really had a problem admitting when I need help. I've always been quick to read that marriage book, talk to the pastor or get a relationship counselor. It seems ridiculous to me to waste time not reaching out when help is available. My only concern on this one was money. Therapists, and good ones, are fairly notoriously expensive. Fortunately my insurance covered it (uh...actually Thanks, Obama...) and I was able to find an excellent Christian therapist. It took 8 or so visits for us to come to the real crux of the issue and it felt like a tree of bitterness had been pulled out by the roots... and then everything changed. It was, no joke, like the LORD leaned down and whispered in my ear, "Buckle up, buttercup," because over the next few weeks He went to work on me. I seriously had a friend who has some prophetic gifting message me and say, "Uh, I don't know why, but the Lord says to tell you to relax, let go, and whatever is going to happen is going to be good, no matter how scary it might look." They had no idea my situation at all and the timing was spot on.
I have grown in Christ more in the past two weeks than probably the past three years and, as things of the Spirit often are, it is very hard to describe. So much has changed. How I react to stressors, how I relate to my kids, my wife, the LORD Himself, and most surprising of all is how I feel about my writing has all changed.
There was a hole, as there usually is when a tree is uprooted, that I could sense in the Spirit. I knew that I needed to fill it in or another tree would take its place or even the same one as before. So, I asked around to the important people in my life who were also Christ followers what it was was that they do for their devotions. I needed to fill that hole left behind with a spiritual practice. I was already reading my Bible and praying but something else needed to be added.
My spiritual mentor told me about how she wakes early every day and listens for God. We spend so much of our Christian walk talking to/at God and hardly any time listening intently. So, I woke up at 5 am, told the LORD what I was up to and waited. What happened was almost indescribable. I guess the easiest way to say it is that I have a renewed sense of His constant presence. Most of that first session and some of those after (I have in fact been up at 5 every morning for this ever since) I'm pretty sure was the Holy Spirit rifling through my sub conscious going, "Don't need this...don't need this...this shouldn't have ever been here in the first place...I know I didn't put this here so out it goes..." And life has been so different. Peace. Joy. I was so the opposite of depressed that I put my therapy sessions on hold indefinitely. I'm react so much more readily with care and compassion. And the best part is I know that it's not because of me. When I studied Zen, Paganism, Kabbalah back in my wild youth it was all about my performance which led to pride and ego inflation and looking down at those "less spiritual" than I. This? He is doing the heavy lifting, making the changes, and causing the things within me to become more and more like His Son, Jesus Christ. I couldn't force this change if I tried.
Now, that is all setup for what I wanted to say in this entry: He is in the silences waiting for you.
We spend so much time watching movies, playing video games, filling our lives with entertainment, noise and distractions; so much so that we almost have to yell at each other just to be heard. And yes, from time to time God will "yell" at us. We get in the car turn on the radio, we have our eyes pulled away from the road and each other by notifications on our phone and we want to send the kids to this or that and then we've got to do drive thru on the way home and we are so wound up or are done with the kids that we put them in front of the TV while they eat and then we can't wait to get them to bed so we can have time with our spouse to watch that one show which we then binge too late into the night and we sleep 6 hours and then hit the snooze button too many times and then have to scramble to get the kids to school and ourselves to work, and then when we get done with work we get in the car, we turn on the radio...and then wonder "Why don't I hear anything from God in my life?? Why is He silent?!?!" (and just so we're clear...this was me, not me judging someone else)
What I have found is that the Lord is a lion lurking in the silences. He is a still small voice waiting to pounce and in modern society we give Him less and less opportunity. We have to make the opportunity. You have to carve out time with a machete if you want to hear Him, hack away at the idols in our own lives, and one of the hardest idols to slash is our self.
I didn't want to do this. I didn't want to wake up faithfully every day at 5 and if He hadn't actually led me there during a period of transition I don't know that I would have done it at all. I would be on the same vicious cycle of distracting myself and wondering if He was even listening at all when it was me who didn't care to listen.
The World will make the most of any opportunity to push back, to drop a crisis in our lap, to distract us with a phone notification, pull us into being emotionally explosive about some political thing done by people who don't even know or care that you actually exist but you care so greatly about though you have no effect, because if you have even 10 minutes of silence, 10 minutes to breathe, the Lord will pounce. I do not doubt that this is the reality one bit. (again...because this was me)
When we look at the Biblical vision of Sabbath it is with the intention of God's people having rest, quiet, peace. That is where I truly believe God really operates on people.
When do most major changes in people's lives happen? When a heart attack or something major malady puts them in the hospital and all they have is time to look, breathe, think, and reassess...or watch daytime TV which ultimately gets people to turn that off as well. He is there, lurking in the rest and in the silence, waiting for the opportunity to leap/pounce into the lives of His people.
The Bible is full of references to testing the Lord's promises, invitations to "taste and see", and that is one of the most life changing things you'll ever do...because when God basically says, "C'mon...I dare you..." (and believe me, that's what "taste and see" is...a Holy dare) He's always going to do exactly what He said He would do.
Pax,
W
Showing posts with label the LORD being sneaky. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the LORD being sneaky. Show all posts
Thursday, June 15, 2017
Tuesday, April 26, 2016
Full Belly, Lazy Heart
I have been in a funk lately, all full of discontent and disquiet. Nothing has been making me happy and most of my mental moments have been self-centered whining and complaining. I am sure I'm not the only one who encounters this, my relentless mental criticism of everyday things for a season. I was quite suddenly aware that God didn't seem to be very close or making anything better in my life.
Last night was a particularly difficult struggle. I slept for fifteen minutes and woke up fully aware and ready to go as if I'd slept eight hours. For the next three hours I was tossing and turning, praying and complaining to God, wondering why He wasn't apparently available to ease my struggles. No matter how much I kept telling myself the truth of the situations I was pissy about, no matter how many scriptures I brought to mind, no matter how much I begged and pleaded for Him to make everything better again, nothing worked. I was in chaos, weakly fending off the volley of lies from the enemy. Briefly I had the thought when things were at their worst that I should catch up on all the devotions i had been neglecting all week because of our family vacation. Grumpily, and in Eeyore's unmistakable voice, I brushed the thought aside saying, "Well...if prayer isn't going to work I don't see why reading the Bible will change anything..."
This morning I woke up in very much the same mood. Everything felt wrong. I was without joy. It didn't take much for mine Kinder to grate on what was apparently my last nerve like they had every day for the last week. There was a huge list of things to do just to keep the apartment in a status that didn't invite vermin or disease. Why was I bothering anyway? Nobody appreciates it. If I happened to disappear the kids would only notice because a snack or meal was late, and my wife would likely only notice because she didn't come home to "Guess what your (insert child) did today? We've got to do something about him/her". When was the last time I was happy? When was the last time I felt appreciated? And LORD why aren't you doing something about it?!?!
I sucked it up, manned up, bit the bullet, fed and washed the kids, loaded them up into the car, dropped the boy off at pre-school and begrudgingly agreed to take my daughter to our favorite cafe to do home school. I didn't want to. I couldn't think of a single reason why I should "reward" her with that. Apparently that's what my parenting had boiled down to lately...transaction based.
She got her Italian Cream soda, I got my Hazelnut latte, and we broke out the books. To my chagrin I noticed that we were not two days behind, but three days instead. She started her Language sections and I opened my Bible.
I am convinced that there is this moment of anticipation that occurs, perhaps experienced by the Lord or perhaps the angels, when you've had a bad time and you finally reach for that Bible. You open the cover, flip through the pages, maybe begrudgingly, maybe out of duty.
Today it was John 6, a familiar passage that I was almost petulantly skimming over. I mean, it's the Feeding of the Five Thousand. I have read it a bajillion times, seen the cartoon, had a t-shirt. I stopped and forced myself to remember that it is the word of God so maybe I should give it the respect of actually reading each sentence. I was mildly amused that there is a bit of a hidden miracle after the feeding and after Jesus walking on water. Verse 21 says "Then they willingly received Him into the boat, and immediately the boat was at the land where they were going." Yeah. Not enough to feed 5k people and walk on water, He teleports the boat.
I read through how the 5k follow him to Capernaum already wanting to make Him a king the day before. They find Him and oddly ask Him when He came there. His response rang like a gong in my soul, in my situation.
"Most assuredly, I say to you, you seek Me, not because you saw the signs, but because you ate of the loaves and were filled."
I hurt. I crumpled. I repented.
So many times I want to believe I'm better and smarter than many of the people in the Bible. I chuckle at Peter, shake my head at the Pharisees and yet each of them is a reflection of my own heart. It is no less true of me and the 5k.
I want Him to be king because of the good stuff I'm going to get. I am going to my stomach filled, my days full of lollipops and sunshine, and if I don't it is His fault. I will go my own way, rate my sins on a scale so that I don't feel too guilty about the ones I enjoy, read his New Testament commands an decide whether I feel like it or not, do my devotions based on whether it's interesting or convenient and then act surprised when my mind is full of chaos and I can't seem to hear or feel the presence of the Lord.
In Nordic culture, in the time of Beowulf, the man who became king was the man who gave treasure away. He was only beloved by his people so long as he kept giving them things. If the gravy train ever stopped the people would find a new king. I have to wonder if that is not an apt metaphor for how we in America tend to think of God. It is clearly a trap I fall into.
Do I love the King or do I love the peace He gives me? Do I love the King or do I love the joy? Do I love the King or the fact that He answers my prayers? Do I love the King because of what He has blessed me with or because of who He is?
Personally I would have to say that my reaction to adversity (Where's God? Why hasn't He fixed this?) proclaims my oh so palsied heart. With very many in my faith, I'm sure, I want to do whatever I have to in order to get the effect rather than falling in love with the cause.
As always, "I believe! Lord, help my unbelief."
Pax,
W
Last night was a particularly difficult struggle. I slept for fifteen minutes and woke up fully aware and ready to go as if I'd slept eight hours. For the next three hours I was tossing and turning, praying and complaining to God, wondering why He wasn't apparently available to ease my struggles. No matter how much I kept telling myself the truth of the situations I was pissy about, no matter how many scriptures I brought to mind, no matter how much I begged and pleaded for Him to make everything better again, nothing worked. I was in chaos, weakly fending off the volley of lies from the enemy. Briefly I had the thought when things were at their worst that I should catch up on all the devotions i had been neglecting all week because of our family vacation. Grumpily, and in Eeyore's unmistakable voice, I brushed the thought aside saying, "Well...if prayer isn't going to work I don't see why reading the Bible will change anything..."
This morning I woke up in very much the same mood. Everything felt wrong. I was without joy. It didn't take much for mine Kinder to grate on what was apparently my last nerve like they had every day for the last week. There was a huge list of things to do just to keep the apartment in a status that didn't invite vermin or disease. Why was I bothering anyway? Nobody appreciates it. If I happened to disappear the kids would only notice because a snack or meal was late, and my wife would likely only notice because she didn't come home to "Guess what your (insert child) did today? We've got to do something about him/her". When was the last time I was happy? When was the last time I felt appreciated? And LORD why aren't you doing something about it?!?!
I sucked it up, manned up, bit the bullet, fed and washed the kids, loaded them up into the car, dropped the boy off at pre-school and begrudgingly agreed to take my daughter to our favorite cafe to do home school. I didn't want to. I couldn't think of a single reason why I should "reward" her with that. Apparently that's what my parenting had boiled down to lately...transaction based.
She got her Italian Cream soda, I got my Hazelnut latte, and we broke out the books. To my chagrin I noticed that we were not two days behind, but three days instead. She started her Language sections and I opened my Bible.
I am convinced that there is this moment of anticipation that occurs, perhaps experienced by the Lord or perhaps the angels, when you've had a bad time and you finally reach for that Bible. You open the cover, flip through the pages, maybe begrudgingly, maybe out of duty.
Today it was John 6, a familiar passage that I was almost petulantly skimming over. I mean, it's the Feeding of the Five Thousand. I have read it a bajillion times, seen the cartoon, had a t-shirt. I stopped and forced myself to remember that it is the word of God so maybe I should give it the respect of actually reading each sentence. I was mildly amused that there is a bit of a hidden miracle after the feeding and after Jesus walking on water. Verse 21 says "Then they willingly received Him into the boat, and immediately the boat was at the land where they were going." Yeah. Not enough to feed 5k people and walk on water, He teleports the boat.
I read through how the 5k follow him to Capernaum already wanting to make Him a king the day before. They find Him and oddly ask Him when He came there. His response rang like a gong in my soul, in my situation.
"Most assuredly, I say to you, you seek Me, not because you saw the signs, but because you ate of the loaves and were filled."
I hurt. I crumpled. I repented.
So many times I want to believe I'm better and smarter than many of the people in the Bible. I chuckle at Peter, shake my head at the Pharisees and yet each of them is a reflection of my own heart. It is no less true of me and the 5k.
I want Him to be king because of the good stuff I'm going to get. I am going to my stomach filled, my days full of lollipops and sunshine, and if I don't it is His fault. I will go my own way, rate my sins on a scale so that I don't feel too guilty about the ones I enjoy, read his New Testament commands an decide whether I feel like it or not, do my devotions based on whether it's interesting or convenient and then act surprised when my mind is full of chaos and I can't seem to hear or feel the presence of the Lord.
In Nordic culture, in the time of Beowulf, the man who became king was the man who gave treasure away. He was only beloved by his people so long as he kept giving them things. If the gravy train ever stopped the people would find a new king. I have to wonder if that is not an apt metaphor for how we in America tend to think of God. It is clearly a trap I fall into.
Do I love the King or do I love the peace He gives me? Do I love the King or do I love the joy? Do I love the King or the fact that He answers my prayers? Do I love the King because of what He has blessed me with or because of who He is?
Personally I would have to say that my reaction to adversity (Where's God? Why hasn't He fixed this?) proclaims my oh so palsied heart. With very many in my faith, I'm sure, I want to do whatever I have to in order to get the effect rather than falling in love with the cause.
As always, "I believe! Lord, help my unbelief."
Pax,
W
Friday, March 25, 2016
On Lent: Ungrateful on Good Friday
One of the amazing things about the Bible is that if you read it long enough, eventually you will see yourself. It's not like the "Iliad" or the "Odyssey" where you will see great heroes you want to be like, a goal to aspire to. No. In the Bible you'll see yourself warts and all.
Maybe you recognize yourself in Peter's bull in a china closet sort of brash loyalty and good intentions. Perhaps it is in Thomas' doubt. For some, and I feel echoes of this in my soul as well, it is in the father's desperate cry for his child to be healed where he declares, "I believe!" and then follows it up with equally desperate honest with, "Help my unbelief". I wish that I saw myself in Lazarus' sister Mary who happily sits at the master's feet.
Unfortunately I most clearly find myself in the parable of the ungrateful servant. I reference it regularly in both real life and blog posts. Man owes the king say $500,000. He begs and pleads for forgiveness. King wipes the debt clean. Man sees a fellow servant who owes him $10 and he drags him to court to get him thrown into prison. King takes the first man, condemns him for not being grateful and showing the same kind of forgiveness the king showed him to someone who owed way less, weeping, gnashing of teeth, etc ensues. As a result, in my personal Lent reflections I've been focused on gratitude.
I'm not one of those people who was saved from a life of prostitution, drugs, etc. I am an average joe who grew up in the church, fell away for a bit but nothing major, and came back. I'm kind of a super minor prodigal son. So many people are impressed by those testimonies of being saved from massive darkness, they praise God and rejoice that someone was once saved from so much. I remember many times, hearing those testimonies and actually feeling somehow inadequate. Of course, that comes from a basic misunderstanding of the situation. If you asked those individuals with the Super Testimonies (tm) they'd be the first to tell you that they wish they had my testimony rather than walk through a personal hell.
I've mentioned it before, but the most massive revelation of the past year in my spiritual walk has been from Dr. Charles Stanley, who once said that God didn't send Jesus to save us from what we've done, the sins we've committed. God sent Jesus to save us from what we are.
We'd like to believe that we need Jesus because we at one or many points in time committed this sin, that sin, and violated the laws of God. Those sins are just the symptom, and a good physician never just treats the symptom. At our core, because of Adam and Eve's transgression in the Garden, we were fundamentally altered. That act made it so that we weren't just capable of sin, but we would inevitably sin. It is in our heart, our nature, our spiritual DNA. It doesn't excuse us, of course, but that is why we need God, need Jesus, need His Holy Spirit, because we are incapable. To say that the sins we commit are the problem is like saying that someone riddled with cancer's problem is the dramatic weight loss, hair falling out, blood in the stool, and lack of appetite. No. It's the faulty cells inside the body that are replicating the DNA incorrectly. If it was just our actions then we wouldn't need to be conformed to the image/mind of Jesus. We'd just need to be conformed to His actions, and the Pharisees, as much crap as we tend to talk about them, were already doing that. Their externals were white, the internals full of rotting flesh and dead men's bones.
That is where I find myself struggling most of the time. It isn't my externals that need altering, although there are things that are beneficial to do and not do. The issue is now and forever my internals...and that, without Jesus, is impossible to alter. I say I struggle, but really it has lately been more surrender. "I believe; Help my unbelief" resounds through my soul at the same frequent desperation as Brother Lawrence's "If You do not change me, how can I do otherwise?".
It is a hard fact that you can do nothing about it. It is a hard fact that you can do nothing about it.
I was watching my kids the other day. My daughter has been having a rough time of it lately. She's at some sort of snotty "tween" stage that just grates on my nerves. It's too early for her to be acting like I'm as much of an idiot as she thinks I am. If any other adult tells her something it is like some enlightened revelation, but if I tell her she scoffs and does it her own way. She isn't showing much respect for me or her mother and I refuse to let her treat us like that.
The thing that keeps grinding my gears is how ungrateful she is. I mean, honestly, never mind that we gave her life, but there is the food, lodging, clothing, tv, computer, education, vacations, etc. We give her so much and she snots me off? Treats me like I'm an idiot when I show her how to do something? Tell her how best to go about her life? I mean, I'm only 38 and she's 9. How much more life experience do I have? Psht...
And that's when I heard some sort of deep, bass level, spiritual bell ding in my soul. Jesus is so faithful at ringing that thing. My perspective shifted. I heard Him clear His throat and I saw my own inconsistency, my own lack of gratitude, my own insistence that God is an idiot (though I never phrase it that way when I'm about to do the thing), my own snottiness.
I felt guilty. I felt condemnation. I felt gutted by my own behavior.
Normally I would have wallowed in all of that, slipped into a spiritual depression (it's comfy there...), and been all "Woe is me", for a few days. I stepped a toe in there and then felt something different than my usual penitent slump. It was so weird. I felt loved. It was like He came up behind me, turned my face away from my actions and just hugged me, loved on me for a while. I didn't have to feel horrible. And the reason why is hard to explain, but I'll try through the medium of my parent child relationship.
My daughter we always be ungrateful on some level, because she can't know all that we have done for her. She can't know how Papa has struggled to teach her, how much Papa has prayed, and cried, and changed himself to be better for her. She can't know how much time and Papa has spent just doing the laundry, dishes, bathroom scrubbing, floor scrubbing, cooking, etc all for her. There is no way for her to comprehend how much her Mama works and struggles to provide good things for her. Even when she has her own children and does the same for them she will only have an inkling of an idea because we'll be 20 years ahead.
We are ungrateful and always be ungrateful on some level because of the magnitude of what Jesus has done for us, for what the Father has done for us, and what the Holy Spirit has done for us. He has spent many thousands of years from the foundation of the Earth and untold years before the foundation of the Earth doing for us. When I think of that I get the same feeling I imagine I would have scuba diving and a blue whale swam up next to me. Fear. Not a fear for my life, but that natural fear and respect for something so massive we barely register on it's scale. It is just so huge. We can't comprehend it now and I doubt we'll be able to comprehend it on the other side, not fully.
He deserves so much more gratitude, so much more praise, so much more of my life because of what He has done. And every time I meditate on that I feel something like Him replying with a smile, "I know. Hey, let's go for a walk."
From the Garden, to Enoch, to us...His desire hasn't much changed, has it?
Pax,
W
Maybe you recognize yourself in Peter's bull in a china closet sort of brash loyalty and good intentions. Perhaps it is in Thomas' doubt. For some, and I feel echoes of this in my soul as well, it is in the father's desperate cry for his child to be healed where he declares, "I believe!" and then follows it up with equally desperate honest with, "Help my unbelief". I wish that I saw myself in Lazarus' sister Mary who happily sits at the master's feet.
Unfortunately I most clearly find myself in the parable of the ungrateful servant. I reference it regularly in both real life and blog posts. Man owes the king say $500,000. He begs and pleads for forgiveness. King wipes the debt clean. Man sees a fellow servant who owes him $10 and he drags him to court to get him thrown into prison. King takes the first man, condemns him for not being grateful and showing the same kind of forgiveness the king showed him to someone who owed way less, weeping, gnashing of teeth, etc ensues. As a result, in my personal Lent reflections I've been focused on gratitude.
I'm not one of those people who was saved from a life of prostitution, drugs, etc. I am an average joe who grew up in the church, fell away for a bit but nothing major, and came back. I'm kind of a super minor prodigal son. So many people are impressed by those testimonies of being saved from massive darkness, they praise God and rejoice that someone was once saved from so much. I remember many times, hearing those testimonies and actually feeling somehow inadequate. Of course, that comes from a basic misunderstanding of the situation. If you asked those individuals with the Super Testimonies (tm) they'd be the first to tell you that they wish they had my testimony rather than walk through a personal hell.
I've mentioned it before, but the most massive revelation of the past year in my spiritual walk has been from Dr. Charles Stanley, who once said that God didn't send Jesus to save us from what we've done, the sins we've committed. God sent Jesus to save us from what we are.
We'd like to believe that we need Jesus because we at one or many points in time committed this sin, that sin, and violated the laws of God. Those sins are just the symptom, and a good physician never just treats the symptom. At our core, because of Adam and Eve's transgression in the Garden, we were fundamentally altered. That act made it so that we weren't just capable of sin, but we would inevitably sin. It is in our heart, our nature, our spiritual DNA. It doesn't excuse us, of course, but that is why we need God, need Jesus, need His Holy Spirit, because we are incapable. To say that the sins we commit are the problem is like saying that someone riddled with cancer's problem is the dramatic weight loss, hair falling out, blood in the stool, and lack of appetite. No. It's the faulty cells inside the body that are replicating the DNA incorrectly. If it was just our actions then we wouldn't need to be conformed to the image/mind of Jesus. We'd just need to be conformed to His actions, and the Pharisees, as much crap as we tend to talk about them, were already doing that. Their externals were white, the internals full of rotting flesh and dead men's bones.
That is where I find myself struggling most of the time. It isn't my externals that need altering, although there are things that are beneficial to do and not do. The issue is now and forever my internals...and that, without Jesus, is impossible to alter. I say I struggle, but really it has lately been more surrender. "I believe; Help my unbelief" resounds through my soul at the same frequent desperation as Brother Lawrence's "If You do not change me, how can I do otherwise?".
It is a hard fact that you can do nothing about it. It is a hard fact that you can do nothing about it.
I was watching my kids the other day. My daughter has been having a rough time of it lately. She's at some sort of snotty "tween" stage that just grates on my nerves. It's too early for her to be acting like I'm as much of an idiot as she thinks I am. If any other adult tells her something it is like some enlightened revelation, but if I tell her she scoffs and does it her own way. She isn't showing much respect for me or her mother and I refuse to let her treat us like that.
The thing that keeps grinding my gears is how ungrateful she is. I mean, honestly, never mind that we gave her life, but there is the food, lodging, clothing, tv, computer, education, vacations, etc. We give her so much and she snots me off? Treats me like I'm an idiot when I show her how to do something? Tell her how best to go about her life? I mean, I'm only 38 and she's 9. How much more life experience do I have? Psht...
And that's when I heard some sort of deep, bass level, spiritual bell ding in my soul. Jesus is so faithful at ringing that thing. My perspective shifted. I heard Him clear His throat and I saw my own inconsistency, my own lack of gratitude, my own insistence that God is an idiot (though I never phrase it that way when I'm about to do the thing), my own snottiness.
I felt guilty. I felt condemnation. I felt gutted by my own behavior.
Normally I would have wallowed in all of that, slipped into a spiritual depression (it's comfy there...), and been all "Woe is me", for a few days. I stepped a toe in there and then felt something different than my usual penitent slump. It was so weird. I felt loved. It was like He came up behind me, turned my face away from my actions and just hugged me, loved on me for a while. I didn't have to feel horrible. And the reason why is hard to explain, but I'll try through the medium of my parent child relationship.
My daughter we always be ungrateful on some level, because she can't know all that we have done for her. She can't know how Papa has struggled to teach her, how much Papa has prayed, and cried, and changed himself to be better for her. She can't know how much time and Papa has spent just doing the laundry, dishes, bathroom scrubbing, floor scrubbing, cooking, etc all for her. There is no way for her to comprehend how much her Mama works and struggles to provide good things for her. Even when she has her own children and does the same for them she will only have an inkling of an idea because we'll be 20 years ahead.
We are ungrateful and always be ungrateful on some level because of the magnitude of what Jesus has done for us, for what the Father has done for us, and what the Holy Spirit has done for us. He has spent many thousands of years from the foundation of the Earth and untold years before the foundation of the Earth doing for us. When I think of that I get the same feeling I imagine I would have scuba diving and a blue whale swam up next to me. Fear. Not a fear for my life, but that natural fear and respect for something so massive we barely register on it's scale. It is just so huge. We can't comprehend it now and I doubt we'll be able to comprehend it on the other side, not fully.
He deserves so much more gratitude, so much more praise, so much more of my life because of what He has done. And every time I meditate on that I feel something like Him replying with a smile, "I know. Hey, let's go for a walk."
From the Garden, to Enoch, to us...His desire hasn't much changed, has it?
Pax,
W
Sunday, May 17, 2015
On Children
I'm up late tonight. Normally I sleep well enough, but my wife offered to make chai and...well, if you've never had my wife's chai let's just say that you are missing out on one of the finer pleasures in life. I forgot, however, that since turning 37 last year my body is processing things like caffeine differently. Once upon a time I was capable of drinking a whole pot of coffee in one sitting and then stretch, yawn, and fall immediately to sleep. Nowadays even a cup of innocent seeming green tea will keep me wired.
I've been reflecting a lot lately on children. Specifically why God gives us children at all. I believe that God's purposes for things in our life are multifaceted and the trick is to catch the flash of divine light off each facet. As such, perpetuation of the species isn't the only reason we have children.
Most obviously, children round our sharp edges. Grandparents are clear evidence of this. Grandparents don't smile only because they get to give the kids back at the end of the visit. They've got the priorities straight. They know, through trial and error...but mostly error, what is and isn't important. Where in their youth they may have freaked out at a furniture scratch, or upholstery stain they realize none of this stuff stays around anyway. Face time, smiles, giggles, cookies, ice cream, loving, and being loved are the things that eternity is made of. When a grandparent raises their voice it's usually for a perfectly good reason. When they stand firm on something they know it's a hill worth fighting on. The younger the parent, generally, the more abundant the "fighting hills" there are.
When we parent we get a much clearer understanding of our own heavenly Father. I can't count the number of times I've said things to my kids and have practically felt the Father nudge me when it applies to my own relationship with him. "Listen, if you could only see what I see then you wouldn't worry about it." "I'm you're Papa. I only want the best for you, and that's why I insist you obey me on these things. I'm not trying to be mean. I'm actually trying to keep you from harm." "You're a part of me, child. How could you imagine that I don't love you?" "I delight in you even when you can't see me watching." "Nothing makes me happier than watching you be exactly who you are."
One of the surprising things has been in the area of relationships. The LORD is pretty sneaky with this one. When I married my wife it would have been very easy for the two of us to just become hermits. We got scolded for being too focused on each other at a few social gatherings. Now, when you marry your best friend and you married her for the right reasons I'm not sure what people expect. She's the most interesting person I know and I love her enough to pledge my life to her so...yeah...surprise! We used to leave Church as soon as the Pastor dismissed. We were quite content with our little "Nation of Two". Kids don't let you do that. Children force you into social situations, force you to stay in them longer, force you to at least try to engage in social interaction and forge relationships. When the Kingdom is made of the very stuff of relationships it shouldn't be too surprising that the LORD finds ways to gradually, lovingly, force us into making them.
Finally, because I've finally burned off the energy from the chai, the perpetual "why?" of a child is more than just information gathering. I can't count the number of times my eldest has questioned me on things and it's made me analyze and then re-analyze just why I believe something. I'm a big proponent of self analysis and consider myself an avid questioner of my beliefs, but it would be a lot more lax of a personal philosophy if it wasn't for my children. The other day my daughter asked me why Christians were being killed over in the middle east. My daughter is so very precious to me beyond just the "cute sweetie" thing. My mother's own way of thinking was "If they're old enough to ask the question they're old enough for the answer" and I've followed that ever since. I explained that because they believe in Jesus and the Bible another group who believes something different thinks it's a crime worthy killing. My daughter's done AWANA and Sunday school, etc. By all accounts she's a "good Christian kid". In that moment, because of her questioning, I realized that maybe she doesn't understand the big "why". Why do we believe what we believe? I already know that my own whys are constantly evolving but her's have barely just begun. She's been given a constant barrage of stories and information, but she'd never actually sad down and read a book of the Bible chapter by chapter. Why do people die for our faith on a daily basis? Why not, as she asked a little later, just lie and say you don't believe and stay alive?
As a result we started in John and have been going through a bit at a time. This is where we get to the truly amazing part of raising children. More than anything we get to go over it all again ourselves. Kids keep us mentally young. They exhaust us mentally and physically, don't get me wrong. But when they see something for the first time we get the chance to fling back to when we were that age seeing it for the first time ourselves. We get the opportunity to remember and get in touch with our most pure self. For me at least the adult stuff, the psych damage from whatever toxic source I allowed unwittingly to damage me, starts to slough off and I remember who I really am at my core. I get to remember what it's like to trust completely and love fiercely, because in the end that's what the Father's called us to and it would be so easy to forget.
Pax,
W
I've been reflecting a lot lately on children. Specifically why God gives us children at all. I believe that God's purposes for things in our life are multifaceted and the trick is to catch the flash of divine light off each facet. As such, perpetuation of the species isn't the only reason we have children.
Most obviously, children round our sharp edges. Grandparents are clear evidence of this. Grandparents don't smile only because they get to give the kids back at the end of the visit. They've got the priorities straight. They know, through trial and error...but mostly error, what is and isn't important. Where in their youth they may have freaked out at a furniture scratch, or upholstery stain they realize none of this stuff stays around anyway. Face time, smiles, giggles, cookies, ice cream, loving, and being loved are the things that eternity is made of. When a grandparent raises their voice it's usually for a perfectly good reason. When they stand firm on something they know it's a hill worth fighting on. The younger the parent, generally, the more abundant the "fighting hills" there are.
When we parent we get a much clearer understanding of our own heavenly Father. I can't count the number of times I've said things to my kids and have practically felt the Father nudge me when it applies to my own relationship with him. "Listen, if you could only see what I see then you wouldn't worry about it." "I'm you're Papa. I only want the best for you, and that's why I insist you obey me on these things. I'm not trying to be mean. I'm actually trying to keep you from harm." "You're a part of me, child. How could you imagine that I don't love you?" "I delight in you even when you can't see me watching." "Nothing makes me happier than watching you be exactly who you are."
One of the surprising things has been in the area of relationships. The LORD is pretty sneaky with this one. When I married my wife it would have been very easy for the two of us to just become hermits. We got scolded for being too focused on each other at a few social gatherings. Now, when you marry your best friend and you married her for the right reasons I'm not sure what people expect. She's the most interesting person I know and I love her enough to pledge my life to her so...yeah...surprise! We used to leave Church as soon as the Pastor dismissed. We were quite content with our little "Nation of Two". Kids don't let you do that. Children force you into social situations, force you to stay in them longer, force you to at least try to engage in social interaction and forge relationships. When the Kingdom is made of the very stuff of relationships it shouldn't be too surprising that the LORD finds ways to gradually, lovingly, force us into making them.
Finally, because I've finally burned off the energy from the chai, the perpetual "why?" of a child is more than just information gathering. I can't count the number of times my eldest has questioned me on things and it's made me analyze and then re-analyze just why I believe something. I'm a big proponent of self analysis and consider myself an avid questioner of my beliefs, but it would be a lot more lax of a personal philosophy if it wasn't for my children. The other day my daughter asked me why Christians were being killed over in the middle east. My daughter is so very precious to me beyond just the "cute sweetie" thing. My mother's own way of thinking was "If they're old enough to ask the question they're old enough for the answer" and I've followed that ever since. I explained that because they believe in Jesus and the Bible another group who believes something different thinks it's a crime worthy killing. My daughter's done AWANA and Sunday school, etc. By all accounts she's a "good Christian kid". In that moment, because of her questioning, I realized that maybe she doesn't understand the big "why". Why do we believe what we believe? I already know that my own whys are constantly evolving but her's have barely just begun. She's been given a constant barrage of stories and information, but she'd never actually sad down and read a book of the Bible chapter by chapter. Why do people die for our faith on a daily basis? Why not, as she asked a little later, just lie and say you don't believe and stay alive?
As a result we started in John and have been going through a bit at a time. This is where we get to the truly amazing part of raising children. More than anything we get to go over it all again ourselves. Kids keep us mentally young. They exhaust us mentally and physically, don't get me wrong. But when they see something for the first time we get the chance to fling back to when we were that age seeing it for the first time ourselves. We get the opportunity to remember and get in touch with our most pure self. For me at least the adult stuff, the psych damage from whatever toxic source I allowed unwittingly to damage me, starts to slough off and I remember who I really am at my core. I get to remember what it's like to trust completely and love fiercely, because in the end that's what the Father's called us to and it would be so easy to forget.
Pax,
W
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)