You lost me

I was in the middle of responding to a co-worker's question about my personal life. It had been a while since we talked and she was eager to hear about how things were going, particularly for my brother. 

I was telling her how well he was doing compared to the first of the year, when he was going under the knife to remove a section of bowel due to colon cancer. I have talked about the phenomenon of miracle after miracle that has happened before in this blog, so I won't repeat it all here. But the most recent miracle bears repeating - after his heart attack on October 25 and the stent operation he had (while conscious) on October 30, not only has his energy and endurance increased, but his kidney function has improved. 

Creatinine is one of the body's waste products that the kidneys are supposed to process, and a normal count in the bloodstream is a maximum of 113 μmol per liter (a μmol is a weight measure that is 1/1000 the size of that molecule, thank you Doctor Google... haha). The higher the number is, the less able the kidneys are to do their job. Earlier this year, my brother's numbers were close to 600 of these per liter (showing his kidneys were functioning at about 15% of normal). Now, they are at 225, or functioning at around 50%. 

His surgeon can't explain it. 

Of course believers know immediately what happened: God did it.

But as I was telling this lady about the numbers and saying that we knew what happened but the doctors wouldn't believe it - she was so interested and engaged and wanted to know what it was. So I told her it was "somebody bigger than you or I" - referring to God - and that's when I got "the look."

Her smile disappeared. Her eyes glazed over and she rolled them a bit (even though she tried not to.) Her whole attitude changed from interested and engaged to merely polite. She moved her body a bit farther from me.

In that moment, I knew that I'd lost her: I'd lost her interest and I'd lost her respect. I was "one of THOSE." Every negative experience she'd ever had with super-zealot church people - and I am willing to bet there was a lifetime of them - was behind that look. I've seen it before, and quite frankly, I've felt as she did before. It's not a good feeling to feel on either side of the fence.

Now, I get that some people are going to react that way. I get that. Some might argue that it was just "persecution" - but I beg to differ because persecution is what believers are experiencing overseas in anti-christian regimes - people literally losing their heads over it. But this lady's reaction - that almost gut-sick response - got me to thinking about the years of hurt (likely from judgment, shame and guilt coming from so-called Christians) that went into how she lost interest so quickly, and that makes me so very angry. Jesus' message is about love and acceptance, forgiveness and hope - and the people who had interacted with her had most likely given her nothing but the opposite. That kind of bigotry, all done in the name of God, really scorches my tail-feathers.

Photo, "Little Boy Covering His Face"
courtesy of David Castillo Dominici at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

I've often thought about how the way believers talk actually excludes and shuns people who might otherwise flock to us. All those hallelujahs and amens ... the little turns of phrase we learn in the organized church ... they all seem to be part of the secret-handshake kind of we're-in-you're-out mentality. And the judgment!!  One wonderful man told me his story of how, as a child, a church leader asked him how he was. He replied, "Good." The man immediately said, "Oh no you're not. 'There is none good, no not one.' " And he quoted the Scripture reference to back it up. I know that that verse is in the Bible, but how he used it was as a weapon, not anything else. In that moment, because of his judgment and condemnation, he lost that little boy for the gospel. It took that child years to recover from that kind of rejection, which he consistently got from everybody in the church (how sad!!), and it took him several decades to be able to start to accept God's love for him - and that was only because God Himself took the initiative. And that is only one person. How many thousands are like him? How many struggle with rejection every day of their lives because they've been hurt by someone who claimed to represent God?

How many people - when we stand before the Almighty One - will say to us, "You lost me"? How many could we have shown love to, but we were too high and mighty to stop our holiness marches long enough to care for them? How many times were we too busy proving we were right, and jumping on every single cuss word or behavior we didn't agree with? Is that really necessary? (God's a big boy, He doesn't need our protection, and I am pretty sure His Spirit does a far better job than we can of convincing people that He's real...) 

I'm talking to me, too - I've done it! Intending to show we are different, to stand out in the crowd, we end up doing nothing but pushing people away by telling them what they SHOULD be doing, and condemning them for NOT doing it. Wow... How tragic is that!

Another night with the frogs

The title of this post has become a common saying between my husband and me over the last thirty-odd years of marriage. 

It refers to the story of Moses and the ten plagues, when God was in the process of freeing His people from slavery in Egypt.  One of the plagues - early on in the ten - was a plague of frogs. There were frogs everywhere: in kitchens, bathrooms, back lawns, roadways, and bedrooms - swarming everywhere so much so that you couldn't step anywhere or roll over in bed without a frog there. 

Never mind being unsanitary - it was downright nasty!!  So anyway, Moses goes to Pharaoh (the slave-driver king who was holding Moses' people captive) and says, "I can say the word and the frogs will go away." Pharaoh believes him - after all, he's turned the river to blood! "When do you want me to command the frogs to go away?" he asks the king.

"Tomorrow."

Not right now, not even in an hour. No - Pharaoh is too proud to admit that he has no control over the situation, and so he exerts the only control he thinks he has left. 

He chooses to spend another night with the frogs.

Photo "Green Frog"
courtesy of Elwood W. McKay III at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

People get comfortable with intolerable situations ... sometimes because it's all they know and they fear changing things and moving into something they fear more than the pain of the situation: they fear the unknown. WE fear the unknown. Even if it means spending another night with the frogs. Even if it means staying in that situation or continuing to think, say, or do things we know are going to be bad for us. We get stuck in the same old pattern, doing the same things with the same types of people, and making the same mistakes over and over again. We get locked into a repeating cycle and we want out, but ...

We know things will change if we do step out into a new experience for us. But we don't. 

Why? 

Good question - or is it? Does it matter why? I suspect there are as many reasons as there are people. The point is that we resist change. 

Change is scary. It really is. Taking that first step into the unknown is risky. It's one of the most scary things we can do. But if we don't take that step, we are stuck with the results we've always gotten - and we'll never know what might have been.

The few times I have taken that first step have led to such amazing adventures. I still have to fight the tendency to want to stay with the familiar - even if it's not all that pleasant.  But if the last two years or so has taught me anything, it's that the unknown with the knowledge and awareness of God's love is far better than fighting for space with those slimy critters - the frogs, I mean. :)