... and the crick don't rise

"A man's heart devises his way, but the LORD directs his steps." - Prov. 16:3

"... you ought to say, 'If the Lord wills, we will live, and do this or that.'..." - James 4:15

An old tag (end of sentence) goes, "be the good Lord willin' and the crick don't rise." Folks said it after planning to meet again next week or next month, etc. The saying was an acknowledgement that nobody is promised more than the moment they are living in, and that God is sovereign. By sovereign, I mean that He chooses what happens in spite of our plans. Sometimes the things we plan happen, and sometimes they don't. Either way, it is God who decides how things will play out.

I have had constant reminders of this fact the last couple of years, mostly to do with my schooling. A planned practicum in the fall of 2018 led to a failed practicum and me having to put it off until the following fall, looking for a new site. Once I found one that was perfect, things were in place when all of a sudden one of the main participants became very ill, and needed to extricate himself from all non-essential commitments. Thus, again, I had to defer my practicum.

Photo by misterfarmer at Pixabay

And now it is 2020. By God's grace, the arrangement from last year has held, tentatively, since nobody knows what life will look like later this year (with COVID-19 being such a reality in our world). But even before the virus, I determined to hold such things lightly, and to leave the final decision to the Only One who sees the end from the beginning. It's an exercise in faith for sure!

As I've been preparing for "whatever God has" (as my formerly sick mentor put it recently), I've been doing some reading about the call of God to each believer to 'incarnate Christ' (yes, used as a verb!) to those around us who may be in need of His help. That requires that I have a vibrant and vital relationship with Jesus. More and more I am seeing how I have needed this time of waiting in order to step back from all I thought I knew, and to re-learn how I can be an instrument in God's hands. I am called to be the embodiment of Jesus to those who need to see Him and know Him in a more intimate way. I am one of His ambassadors - called to act on His behalf the way He would: with love, acceptance, and compassion.

And thank God, I have the power to do that - as do all believers - because of the indwelling presence of the Holy Spirit. Without Him, I would be totally unequal to such a task.  This isn't just words. It's breath ... life ... living. I'm challenged to seek His glory above my own. I'm willing to open myself to Him in intimacy. All those things I have always wanted as a believer can be realities as long as I align myself with His desire for me: a love-bond with Him. Only then can I be a part of the overflow of His presence into others' lives at their point of need.

I truly hope that "the crick don't rise" this time.  And I know that even if it does, He's got this.

He always has.

In Everything

"Be anxious for nothing, but
in everything, by prayer and supplication
with thanksgiving, make your requests

known to God." - Philippians 4

The above verse came to my mind today as I reviewed my Facebook news feed. So many people are so freaked out over this coronavirus "COVID-19" even though our little province has had only 27 cases, all travel-related, and all recovered with NO hospitalizations. Be that as it may, I am not one to deny the potential dangers of the virus, nor am I one to pooh-pooh medical directives to wear masks and keep washing my hands and avoid touching my face. 

What I am most concerned with, however, is the tendency of people to say that they trust in God and yet they continue to obsess about what others are doing to endanger their own health (by political decisions to allow snowbirds who have properties here into the province, or to allow more than 5 people at a time to get together, for example).

That's when I think of Philippians 4 - and meditate on what that means for me. I see a number of things that I can apply to this very situation.

First, don't worry.  Worry only robs you of the moment, of enjoying the present. It does nothing to change the situation. Worry is actually bad for folks because it raises hormone levels that cause people to gain weight and to be more depressed and anxious. Besides, the actions of others are out of my control; I can only control what I do, not what others do. So it is fruitless to worry.

Second, pray in everything. Not just about everything, but IN everything - in the midst of the problem, bring it to God. Bring your anxiety, bring the whole situation, and how you feel about it, to God.

Free image by geralt at Pixabay.com

Third, and perhaps most important, pray with asking AND thanksgiving. "Supplication" is just a fancy way to say asking or requesting. But this requesting is not the oh-please-please-please kind, the kind that has very little trust in the goodness of God. It isn't like someone making a petition to their boss or to their premier. Rather, it is the act of a child asking something from a loving father. It trusts in the Father's love, in His character, in His goodness. It's the kind that says, "I ask You for this and I trust You that You will do what is best, so I thank You for whatever You decide to do." It is the prayer that leaves the outcome to God's loving care, and lets go of the desire to influence how things turn out.  It is the prayer of faith, not in the outcome, but in God Himself.

No other kind of prayer will calm the spirit. I know, because I have seen the kind of prayer that doesn't thank God for His decision. I remember as a child seeing my mom praying on her knees, crying and worrying on her knees, for a loved one. And when she got up from her knees she would still worry and fret, and be torn up, about the situation or the person she just prayed for. It did her no good and it did that person no good either. I know that, because the person she was praying for was me. All her prayers did was make me feel shame. I saw no faith there. I only saw a pitiful person worrying on her knees. It disgusted me. It made me not want to have anything to do with a God who couldn't be trusted to look after her OR me. (Of course, later, I came to understand that this wasn't what God was like. But it wasn't my mom who taught me that.)

Prayer IN everything WITH thanksgiving liberates the person who prays. It removes the responsibility for the outcome from that person's shoulders and places it on God's, where it belongs in the first place. It is an act of trust, not of fear. It honours God. It does not insult His grace and goodness. And it results in peace, not more anxiety.

That's the kind of peace I want. That's the kind of God I serve. I am overwhelmed by His loving care for me and for all of those who reach out to Him in faith, trusting His goodness and His grace. So when I pray - which I doubt if I'm ever NOT praying as it's a conversation with God - I listen for His heart, let go of what I can't change myself, and trust Him to either change those other things or help me to accept what is. And He does, simple as that. He does.

It's so freeing.

Manasseh's Mess

I was just reading yesterday in 2 Chronicles about dear old King Hezekiah, a godly king who served the Lord. After he died, his son Manasseh came to power. And he did pretty much the opposite of what his dad had done.

Okay, I get that he probably resented his dad for not kicking off 15 years earlier when he was sick. But God heard Hezekiah and healed him - so there you go. But this dude, Hezekiah's kid Manasseh, had the ultimate preacher's kid syndrome. He HATED everything his dad stood for. So he started worshiping idols, passing his baby sons through the fire (yeah that meant killing them by flame, folks) and building shrines to other gods. And this started the moment he was crowned king.

Photo by Ulricke Leone at Pixabay.

More and more he made a huge mess of the kingdom his dad had expanded. And God put up with this rebellious behavior for a few years. And then, (surprise surprise) He stepped in and allowed a foreign king to come in and defeat Judah, and his troops captured Manasseh, pierced his nose with a brass ring like an ox, and literally led him by the nose back to Assyria. 

Now let's think about that picture for a minute. That was a couple of weeks of a king who used to wear royal robes and get anything he wanted, walking behind some camel's butt with a rope attached to a ring in his nose, and tromping through camel dung. He had a lot of serious time to reflect on his choices.

And guess what! When he was in captivity in Assyria, at some point, he honestly and truly repented. He did. And God miraculously worked out a way for him to return to his throne in Jerusalem. And once he was there, he made good on his change of heart: he tore down the idols, removed the idols from the temple, re-instituted temple sacrifices, and encouraged the people to return to the God of their ancestors. 

And God blessed him. That was a big deal. This was before the cross, folks. And even though Manasseh didn't take down the shrines to Asherah (the Assyrian god), and still allowed the people to use these pagan places to pray to the God of Israel, God still blessed him ... because his heart had changed. 

I find this so cool. Most people, when they read the Old Testament, see a vindictive, mean-spirited God. Yet Manasseh learned from experience that God is both holy and loving, powerful and gentle, and he learned that he could not stand against Him. It was far better to live FOR Him. And when Manasseh repented God not only forgave him, but He blessed him, and gave him a long reign. 

Yes, Manasseh had to clean up the mess he'd made. But he did - thus proving that his repentance in Assyria wasn't just words. He meant it. He was living in a relationship with God. And over and over again in the Old Testament, God shows that He desires a relationship with His people, not just collectively, but as individuals. 









And Manasseh's story also tells me something else. It doesn't matter how many mistakes a person makes. It doesn't matter how much of a mess a person makes of things. 

What matters is now. 
What matters is the heart. 
And it is never too late to start a new life.

Christmas Spirit

I assume that you all know that Jesus was not born on December 25th. Constantine chose that day to commemorate the birth of Jesus because it was the date of Saturnalia, celebrated four days after the winter solstice (December 21, so four days makes it December 25) to celebrate the hope of spring eventually returning after the longest night of the year. He did that with Christmas and with Easter (used by followers of Demeter, the goddess of fertility, to celebrate new life). 

Jesus was more likely born in the spring. You see, the shepherds outside Bethlehem would be watching their flocks by night only when the lambs were new - and they usually are born in February or March. The reason they had to watch the flocks was that the Bethlehem lambs were in hot demand for temple sacrifices at Passover time, which would happen in just a few weeks. It is likely that the Messiah, the Lamb of God, would be born around Passover time, which was in the spring of the year (March or April). 

The quaint little stable crêches that we see, with Jesus set into a wooden manger in a wooden barn with a thatched or shingled roof. But stables in those days were caves, not constructed buildings. And mangers were made out of large rocks with openings in them, sort of like dugout canoes ... but made of rock instead of wood. When Jesus was wrapped in swaddling bands (strips of cloth intended to allow the baby's legs to straighten out when the cloth was wrapped tightly around the infant's body) and laid in the manger, He looked like a mummy laid out in a tomb, with only the face uncovered. The symbolism is hard to miss here. 

And then there are the trappings of our traditional Christmas. The decorated evergreen tree comes from the Druid religion, some say. In the Dark Ages, these ancient Celts practiced animal and human sacrifices. 

Mistletoe, garlands, lights on trees, wreaths, and so much more come from either Celtic or Norse mythology. There is nothing specifically "Christian" about them. (Don't even get me started on Santa Claus!) Yet we decorate our trees, adorn our lawns and homes with lights, hang mistletoe, set a wreath on our door, all without thinking about where the original ideas came from.  

But regardless of their origin, or of the correct date (which would change every year because the Hebrew calendar is based on a 360-day year with a bonus year approximately every 50 years), we celebrate the FACT of Jesus' birth, and we believe that in that birth, God the Son was made flesh and became a human through a spiritual union with the seed of the woman. This "seed of the woman" is a reference to Genesis chapter 3, where Adam chose to eat of the forbidden fruit knowingly, and Eve, who gave it to him, was deceived (by the serpent) instead of rebellious. 

Therefore that holy child was conceived without sin one summer around 7 BC, and the shepherds bore witness to His arrival less than a year later. 

Portrait of a Baby Sheep in the Farm
by ponsulak at www.freedigitalphotos.net

Why am I going on about this right now? Because I celebrate Christmas on December 25, regardless of when His real birth day was. Yet I and my family don't celebrate with a big display or with huge gifts or going into debt or getting trapped into this whole "outdoing one another" thing that people do in so many places during the holidays. In fact, for a few years now, we've been going without the evergreen tree with real or artificial needles - as our youngest cat is allergic and has seizures when she eats the needles in the night. And frankly, we are seriously considering replacing our (now) pre-lit birch tree with a nice nativity scene, very simple with only the main players present: Jesus, Joseph, Mary, and three or four shepherds with a couple of lambs, maybe a donkey and a goat. 
_
No sages (they came over a year later); no fancy clothing. Just a simple carpenter with his young wife and a mystery baby squirming in what looked like mummy's wrappings, twisting gently like some developing butterfly... and shepherds speaking in hushed tones, wide-eyed with wonder, whispering about how the messengers they'd seen could be so accurate. All of them were huddled in the most unlikely of places: a cave used to house livestock and protect them from the rain and from wild animals. 

No fanfare. No twinkling lights. No red carpet. 

Just Jesus.

The Dividing Line

For the last few decades, but especially the last four-plus years, I've watched it with growing alarm. Otherwise wonderful people, committed Christians, good-living, God-fearing individuals, are fighting and losing friendships and even relationships with family members - now even in public fora like social media - about things that (to my way of thinking) should not even be an issue.  Politics.  Doctrine.  Human rights. 

Seriously?  When Jesus said that He came to bring division in Luke 12:51, He wasn't talking about these kinds of obsessions. He was talking about the simplicity of the Good News.  He was talking about Himself, about the Scandalon (the stumbling stone) of the Gospel. He was predicting family members turning each other in (in other words, turning in believing family members), ratting on them to the authorities because of their own lack of belief in Him. 

As for those who are fellow-believers, Jesus prayed in John 17 that they would be united - that they would be as united with each other and with Him as He was with the other members of the Trinity. Not in the sense that we all believe the same way about the same things, but in the sense of loving and accepting each other the way we are, in spite of our differences in thought or method. 

He said nothing of external politics. He said nothing of believers hating and bullying one another over piffling little details that mean nothing. 

Photo "Girls Looking At Each Other" courtesy of Stuart Miles
at www.freedigitalphotos.net

The dividing lines that I've noticed lately have been whether this or that leader is the right one for our respective countries. Or whether women should or should not preach. Or whether someone is white or a person of colour and whether that matters. Or whether certain people should be allowed to fall in love with each other and get married. Or whether people do or do not have the right to identify as male or female, or other. Or whether climate change does or does not exist. Each side -by and large - uses scripture as a weapon against the other.

Again I say, SERIOUSLY??

Ever since the dawn of humanity, there have been differences of opinion. And there will continue to be differences of opinion. Trump, Trudeau, democracy, socialism, feminism, etc., etc. Pick a topic, and someone has at least one opinion about it.  I even know someone who has three opinions on just about everything, and who will argue with herself without even anyone there in the room with her! 

But all these differences of opinion -- especially if we are believers -- are opportunities to show love to each other rather than excuses to fight one another. Otherwise, we poison our own testimony. And the cause of Christ suffers.

The world sees us fighting one another, putting one another down publicly, making fun of each other, and so forth, and what is the first thing they think? "If that's what being a 'Christian' is, I want no part of it."  And they are perfectly justified in saying so. Some believers, wanting no part of what passes for Christianity today, have decided that even though they believe in Jesus, they no longer want to be considered Christian because of the negative image it conjures up.

ENOUGH!! 

I submit another, more deserving, dividing line: a line in the changing sand of the times, so to speak. And I dare each of us to cross it, and to pay attention to the changing times while we do it. That dividing line is LOVE.

Enough with beating each other up over things that won't matter in a hundred years. Enough with trying to look good by making other people look bad. Enough with the martyr mentality (oh look at me, I'm the only one who has it right and you're just making me suffer...). Enough with the siege mentality where it's 'them against us'. Or 'us against them' more accurately....whoever "them" is! Most likely, it's usually the current villain in the crusader-mindset of religious folks: anyone that doesn't look like, act like, or think like we do. 

Come on, admit it - we've all done it in one way or another. We find a way to set ourselves apart from other folks. This kind of practice has earned itself the term of "othering" - treating another group of people as "less than" us because of some sort of difference we feel uncomfortable with. So let's step over that line from "othering" to "ANothering" where we love one ANother, bear one ANother's burdens, meet one ANother's needs. It doesn't mean we have to be doormats, but it does mean that we need to accept one ANother the way each of us is. 

And I think that Jesus would do the same. I know He did with me.

Day of Rest

There was a time, a few years ago, when I looked forward to Sundays  -  well, SOME Sundays at least  -  because I was in worship ministry and I knew and enjoyed spending time with the people on my worship team.  The leaders were Spirit-filled and Spirit-led - and worship was a pure joy, so much so that when I entered in, there was nobody that I was aware of except for my Savior and me. My husband agreed. For a while, it was marvelous.

Then those people left. They had another ministry opportunity elsewhere, and after they were gone, it seemed as though the life and soul went out of that place for us. Others came in to take their place, but that sense of being led by the Spirit gradually got replaced by a sense of duty and obligation. When that happened, church became an effort, and we noted how we spent a good five or six hours in that place on a Sunday, and came home exhausted, dead tired, from the sheer effort it took to navigate petty bickering, personality clashes, and politics. More and more we dreaded going to church. 

Finally, for those reasons and more besides, we realized that the organized church was not the place for us. We were burnt down to the core, used up, and spit out. People only wanted us around for our talents - and sometimes not even then. Error began to creep into the preaching - not the kind of error that questions if angels do or don't have wings, but the kind of error that made Christianity more about internal politics, external performance, and following an arbitrary set of rules than it did about acceptance, love and grace. As we stood on the platform and ministered, and even had time limits put on that, we felt as though our being there was a form of support for (and therefore agreement with) this kind of fear-based thinking. We wanted no part of that.

So after much prayer and soul-searching, we left. That was August 2015. 

Image "Couple Having Breakfast" courtesy of Ambro
at www.freedigitalphotos.net

Since that time, we have grown to love Sundays again. It truly is a day of rest for us.  For one thing, we no longer dicker over whether Saturday or Sunday is the sabbath. Technically Saturday is, but we have long thought of Sunday as our day of rest, and as long as it is one day in seven (which we never had before; Sunday was our busiest day!) we figure it's all good. We finally can rest one day in seven!! For another thing, we can sleep in without guilt, leisurely have breakfast and talk to one another, spend time together, and do things we enjoy doing: reading, listening to music, going for a stroll, whatever. 

What's more, we are closer to God now than we have ever been in our lives. "What do you do for fellowship?" we hear church members ask us again and again when they hear us say we don't "go to church."  And we chuckle.  Back then, we "fellowshipped" by rubbing shoulders with people, shaking their hands (when we were told to) and talking about superficial things like the weather or sports or the latest style of boots, or whatever. Now, God sets up our fellowship (and so much more often than just once a week!) and we discuss deep spiritual things, we open up about our joys and struggles, and we pray for each other. It's koinonia - a real, living, fluid community, and we are so much more free than we have ever been. We have seen God heal, restore, encourage, and lift up our brothers and sisters, without ever setting foot inside a church building, because "where two or three are gathered together in My name, there I am in the midst."

And it happens all the time. Not just Sundays, but nearly every day of the week, in some form or other. We are happier, more at peace, more filled with joy, and growing in love and acceptance. We have seen God meet needs miraculously, whether physical or financial or emotional. It's exciting, quite frankly! And it gives us a sense of calmness and rest to live in that stream of loving community.  

So, if you'll excuse me, I think I'll go read some more. And maybe I'll even take a short nap. Life is good. :)

Kids kids

It was about 1994. My two children, barely aged 5 and 2, were running around the church sanctuary as the worship team was practicing the songs. I let them run because nobody else was there yet for the service, but as people started to file in, I began to tighten the reins.

"People are coming in," I told them. "Time to stop running and play quietly."

They listened - for as long as small children's attention span lasts. Especially when one of them has undiagnosed ADHD. 

So they started making noises and playing under the seat. Their giggles mingled with thumps their feet made on the underside of the pew as they lay on the floor. Occasionally one of them would run around and I would have to go and catch the offending one (usually the youngest) and cart them back. 

I was getting more and more frustrated as more and more adults turned toward me and glared.

Free Image courtesy of chriswolf at Pixabay.com

One of the greeters at the entryway was a large, jovial man named Blair.  He watched the kids and saw my frustration. As I was carting my toddler back for the fourth time (it felt like the tenth), Blair touched my arm. I stopped, still holding the child under my arm like a football. By this time, the oldest was coming closer to investigate.

Blair smiled at me. "I'm going to tell you something that my kids' Ukranian grandmother said to me when our children were their age," he announced, jerking his head toward my children. He looked me straight in the eye and said slowly, "Kids kids."

I stared back at him quizzically, confused by his statement. "Kids kids?" I queried. 

He chuckled. "She didn't speak English all that well. What she meant was that children are going to be children no matter where they are. And they are children for such a short time. So let them be children." 

He grinned as I slowly grasped his meaning. He was encouraging me as a mother - saying that it wasn't so horrible of me to let my kids play - because after all, they were children! To let them be children was the best gift I could give them.

That statement helped form my (and our) parenting decisions from that time onward. If they wanted to play at church, I'd take them into the foyer (or outside if I could) and let them play themselves out, rather than subject a teacher to them fidgeting and their excess of energy. 

If they wanted to go into Cubs instead of Brownies, into Cubs they went - and excelled! The oldest wanted to go into Scouts - so we supported her when the time came. And when she decided on her own that it wasn't for her, we supported that too. 

We encouraged each of them to plunge into whatever they wanted and we didn't force them into activities they had no interest in. As a result, they decided to take swimming classes together - something their mom had never had the courage to do! The oldest was in her junior high school band for a little over three years, learned to play the flute, and dropped out of senior high school band when she got a "creepy teacher" (who eventually was discovered to be too "friendly" toward some of his girl pupils...) and the youngest discovered she had a gift (among the other gifts she had) for using her hands. She developed an interest in carpentry and welding before she passed away in 2013 in a car crash. 

Each person has unique gifts and fills a special place in the world that only they can fill. And it all came into focus for me that day when a man named Blair took the time to encourage a young, harried mother. 

He also had another saying, which he said quite often: "It's nice to be nice."  And he lived by it.  Thank you, Blair. Thank you.

 

God's appointments

"Disappointments are God's appointments." - Nancy Ravenhill

The way is rough. The way is long and hard. Nettles stick in the feet. Stones stub the toes. Bruises, bleeding, and questioning are the rules of the day. And then God comes alongside and speaks to the heart of the matter. The weariness lifts, the ache eases, and doubt subsides. 

Ever have one of those times when you didn't know if you were even on the right path, but all you could do was keep plodding? and then God meets your need and speaks to you through the darkness, and a little light comes on inside? It's almost as if the sky clears and the sun rises after a dark and rainy night. You want to tell everyone you know - Rejoice with me! Isn't this fantastic? Wow! God met me where I was, and He really came through for me!! Woo-HOOOO!!

Image "Sunrise At First Sight" by Keattikorn at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

I had the privilege of watching that happen for someone today. It had been quite the rough patch and he wondered if there was even anyone out there who cared ... and then an act of kindness blew him away and he was left completely floored, amazed at the goodness of God and of those who share His heart for those who are in need. We shared in that rejoicing that comes when the poor widow finds the lost coin, when a prayed-for miracle happens, when God meets a need that seemed impossible. It was truly inspiring to see that, to be part of that experience.

And we spontaneously worshipped God together. God's presence was there in power in that humble little place, and we enjoyed true fellowship. We were sharing Scripture with each other, and listening to uplifting music whenever God would lead in that direction. We didn't decide, "Well, now I think we'll have church. Pull out the hymnbooks Martha May."  There was no organ, no offering plate, no trappings of any kind; just us. Yet Jesus was there, just as sure as we were, "in the midst." And He was (like we were) grinning from ear to ear all afternoon and well into the evening. It was one of God's appointments, and we were there to enjoy it and be grateful for it.

Life's trials are hard, no question of that. But I wonder sometimes if we've gotten it backward when we question His motives after we've prayed and nothing happens. Perhaps life's disappointments are rather opportunities for God to involve people who hear His voice, and allow those people to participate in what He is doing to answer someone's prayer, meet a need, or bring blessing to someone who needs it. 

I think that's how the early church operated. If there was a need, people stepped up and met that need in Jesus' name. Givers and receivers alike could rejoice in the goodness of the same God who allowed them to join in what God was doing in both of their lives: the receivers by receiving, and the givers by giving, both knowing that it is God who is the source!

Every day could then be an adventure, and there were endless opportunities for God's people to hear His voice and keep one of His appointments with someone who needed something special to remind them that God was looking after them. I'm not sure if that makes any sense to anyone, but there is a sense of community in that kind of sharing. 

And this kind of community, I believe, is what the writer of Hebrews meant when he said not to forsake the assembling of ourselves together ... and so much the more, as we see the day approaching (11:25). Get together! Visit! See each other! Share frequently what God is doing! Meet each other's needs, if God so leads! This is the kind of dynamic that I believe the early church had, and they did NOT have a budget or a building to maintain (I'm just saying). 

And this grass-roots community, these God-appointments, or simply put, God setting stuff up so we can share His goodness and His provision, is something we've been experiencing more and more the last few years, with several individuals as God brings people our way. Sometimes, we get some inkling in advance.  Sometimes, it happens when we least expect it. 

Either way, it's exciting. It's inspiring. It's marvelous!!

Mothers Day

For all of my adult life, I have dreaded Mothers Day.  I thought of it as a day where people were gushing on about their mothers, how wonderful they were, how lucky they were to have such wonderful people who loved them unconditionally.

And I would compare their experience to mine and come up WAY short. Not everyone's mother is a saint, I would say. Of course nobody would believe that my growing-up years were so awful, especially after they met my mom. But the woman they met was not the woman I knew. They were totally unaware of what happened behind closed doors, and she liked it like that. And that, as Forrest Gump said, is all I have to say about that.

All that aside, soon after the death of my youngest daughter in a car crash, I started to rethink Mothers Day. This time, I started thinking about it from the other side - instead of me gushing on about my mother, I could look at it as my family honoring me AS a mother. 

Image by Liz Noffsinger at www.freedigitalphotos.net

That changed my perspective a bit. Especially when I look at how my relationship with my daughters changed after I got into therapy - hard to believe that was over 10 years ago!! - and I started to understand about personal boundaries. 

What I mean by personal boundaries is how everyone has them (including me), how I need to take a step back and not try to control everyone's thoughts, beliefs, and actions, and just let life happen, let people be who they are, and allow them to bear the consequences of their own actions without trying to fix them. 

That realization that everyone has boundaries (see my page on "What is Codependency?" on this blog) literally revolutionized my life and my relationships with my husband and my kids! I learned a whole new way of living life, and I would never go back to the way it was. That new lifestyle was a gift; it gave me another four and a half years of good relationship with my youngest before she passed away, and it has allowed me to grow and become a better person and a better mom. 

So instead of looking at Mothers Day as a time to honour my own mother (thus living a lie in my own mind - she was my abuser, not what everyone thinks of when they think of the typical concept of motherhood) I started to see the day differently: it became a way to celebrate the mom I am becoming. It became a means to let my children express their gratitude to me, and not robbing them of that experience like I did before. 

And instead of spouting all sorts of platitudes about HAVING a mom and feeling resentful of those people who had that gift in their lives, I could literally celebrate BEING a mom, breaking the cycle of abuse, and starting a new, gentle, accepting, and loving legacy. And that shift in focus helped me survive the annual dread-fest in the month of May at the beginning, and actually (as time went on) look forward to the second Sunday of May.

It's been a slow and sometimes painful change at times. As my own mother ages and gets further into her age-related dementia, she has already completely forgotten the things she did and said to make my life a living hell when I was growing up. And - though it surprises me to say it - it's become less and less important to me to have people believe my story, and more and more important to BE the kind of mother that I wish I had, the kind who showed her love in private instead of just in public, who supported me and who believed in me. She was rarely like that with me because she didn't want me to become prideful, but that fact doesn't keep me from choosing to be that loving, caring, accepting person with my loved ones. I can give them what I never was allowed to have: a chance to believe in themselves, to take pride in their accomplishments, and to have their own voice.

I've also been rethinking my reaction to others' desire to honour their mothers on Mothers Day. Before, I would roll my eyes or just want to stay away from folks who do that. I would hide in my house that day, want to pull the covers over my head, and reject any effort made to spoil me on Mothers Day. Honestly. What that did was steal something very important from my children, and make others who had good relationships with THEIR mothers to feel guilty for having something so wonderful.

Now, I'm more inclined to just say "Happy Mothers Day" to them.  But not only to them!  Now, I say it to women who - because of trauma - don't feel good on that day: women whose mothers were mean to them, women who never could have a child of their own, women who have miscarried, aborted, or lost a child to tragedy, women who never had the opportunity to have grandchildren, and also women whose children (and/or grandchildren) have walked away from everything they tried to teach them. Those are the hearts that hurt and weep on Mothers Day. And those are the people I think deserve to hold their head up and say that yes, I AM A MOM. I am worth something.

And we are.

A New Creation

"If anyone is in Christ, they are a new creation.
The old has passed; the new has come."- 2 Cor 5:17

"People I talk to keep pressuring me to go to church," he explained. "I'm not so sure I'm ready to go. My reputation around here is not good, and I just know there will be those people who will sit back and wonder who I think I am, coming in there and testifying..."

"Well, you'd get that anywhere you went. You know that."

"I know," he sighed. "But I just need to spend some time with Father God so that I can be strong enough to not care what other people think of me." 

I nodded. "You take all the time you need. The most important relationship right now (and for that matter, always) is your relationship with God. And church," I added, "might be one way to enhance that. However, only when you're ready."

He quirked an eyebrow. "But I thought we weren't to forsake the assembling - - - "

I smiled. "What do you think this is -- right here, right now? Huh? We've been communicating with each other, sharing the things of the Lord, talking about our struggles, and caring for one another. I don't know what anyone else might call it, but I'd call it church!!"

His eyes slowly widened, and a smile began to shine from his eyes like a sunrise. "Didn't our hearts burn within us, when He was with us along the road...?  Wasn't that the two disciples on the road to Emmaeus?"

Photo by David Alberto Carmona Coto from Pexels

"Sure was." I grinned. "Wherever two or more are gathered in My Name, there am I in the midst." 

His shoulders relaxed.

"You'll get to the place where it won't matter what people think. So just know that any pressure you feel comes from other people's expectations, not necessarily from God. Of course, they might mean well, but you also don't answer to them. I think you're pretty good at recognizing when you are being manipulated rather than when God is telling you something. When you're ready, you'll know that it's time to make that step to be with others. But until then ... here we are. And that's okay."

His eyes glistened. He got it.

I've had this same conversation with more than one person, but I've picked this one because it stood out for me. I've had to have chats like this one because so many people are "church-hurt" and they need a slow reintroduction to the people who say that they belong to Jesus but who take particular delight in pointing out areas of improvement (thus trying to do the Holy Spirit's work for Him, but don't get me going.) And by "improvement" I mean areas where the person's life doesn't look like theirs: from actions to appearance. Same words, same hair-cut, same causes, same version of the Bible, same, same, same.  

It doesn't matter. Our Father is a God of endless variety, and it would be pretty boring if all of us looked, smelled, and acted like the same human.

What matters most is that this person, no matter the past, no matter the number of times he or she has said things have changed, no matter your or my opinion of things, is a new creation in Christ. The old has passed; the new has come. Who are we to sit in judgment? Who are we to hold that person's past against them? Who are WE to determine how fast and in what areas he or she should grow? Do WE know the inner workings of their heart?  What God has started in that person, He will finish. Whether they agree with us or not on everything, it isn't our job to make them into perfect replicas of ourselves. 

It's God's work to grow them up in Him, in a way that will bring out their unique qualities. He is the gardener, the caretaker, the great shepherd. He knows best what will draw each person into an intimate and vibrant relationship with Him. He's been doing it for far longer and is much better at it than you or I could be. Let's set aside our preconceived notions of how spiritual growth looks, and trust God to nurture His own creation how and when He sees fit. 

Besides, maybe they can someday speak life into someone who can relate to the way they look or talk. For example, their appearance - whether they have tattoos, dreadlocks, piercings, or whatever - might put us off, but that doesn't mean God can't use them to reach people who would never be drawn to us. And isn't that the main reason why we're all still here in the first place?

Live Free or Die

"LIVE FREE OR DIE" -- New Hampshire license plate logo (quote from General John Stark)
“Walk free from the long shadows cast by small people.”  -- Fennel Hudson
"Great minds discuss ideas; average minds discuss events; small minds discuss people." 
-- Eleanor Roosevelt
"The price of liberty is eternal vigilance." - Thomas Charlton, 1809
"It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery." Paul the apostle, Galatians 5:1
"I just wanna live while I'm alive." -- Jon Bon Jovi, It's My Life https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qAy9HEfR1dA

Found at Pexels - https://www.pexels.com/photo/low-section-of-man-against-sky-247851/

Of late, I have been doing considerable thinking about the concept of freedom and what it means. Wars and insurrections have been started for it; marches and protests have been staged for it; churches preach it and still people every day live in bondage, all the while thinking they are free. 

Such was the Galatian church's dilemma. They fell into the doctrine Jesus called "the doctrine of the Nicolaitans, which I despise..." in the book of Revelation. Basically it was the doctrine of "Jesus AND." That is, they thought that it wasn't quite enough to believe that Jesus died to save them from the wages of sin; oh no. They thought that one had to follow a strict code of rules and regulations in order to "keep" what Jesus had already provided for them free of charge. So Paul reminded them that Jesus was enough, and to stand in that freedom with grateful hearts that serve Him out of love and not out of fear. (Judy's paraphrase). 

How much of life do we spend living in fear!! A fear-based religion is one where the rules get stressed and so do the people as they try to keep them all. Living life fearing that if they do the wrong thing enough, or if they don't do the right things enough, God will be angry or at the very least displeased, sounds like a recipe for the performance-based focus of a lot of churches I have been to - and believe me, I've been to a LOT of churches of nearly every evangelical stripe. I've even heard this kind of "Jesus-AND" heresy preached from the pulpit in some places - that yes, Jesus saved you, but you gotta hang onto your salvation by doing, doing, doing. (Never mind BEING in an intimate relationship with Him that produces love and WANTING to please Him, oh no.) And in each of these churches there have been (percentages are approximate) the 8% who embrace that kind of thinking totally and judge those who don't toe the line, the 5% who get tired of being yelled at and leave, the 85% who beat themselves over the head every week for "not doing enough" and even come to expect the verbal abuse and welcome it (i.e., the religious masochists some of whom often also pray for revival because they know instinctively that something is wrong), and the 2% who actually are in a love-relationship with Jesus in spite of what they hear or experience at church. 

The thinking that the 'price of liberty is eternal vigilance' (1809, see above quote) came into being either during or shortly after the American Revolutionary War that led to its independence from Great Britain in 1776. Americans were afraid that the mother country would try to retake the colonies. But I believe that the thinking crept into the church as well, gaining a foothold of error just like the one that had taken hold of the Galatians. People LIKE the idea that they can have a say in their own destiny, not feeling entirely comfortable with the idea that salvation is a Divine initiative and even free will is absorbed into God's omniscience (aka predestination) - not that God decided who would be saved and lost, but that He knew in advance who would be (a subtle difference it is, indeed), because He knows all and is eternal, existing apart from Time. It takes nothing away from personal responsibility, but God being God will make His plan happen either through or in spite of us. (Think of free will and predestination as two sides of the same doorway. On the outside is written "Whosoever will" and on the inside is written "Chosen in Him before the foundation of the world.") 

But I digress. The kind of freedom I am talking about is freely given but to be earnestly and fiercely defended. I don't mean "defending the gospel" or using the Bible to cut someone apart with, as is the habit of many I've known in my life. What I am talking about is real freedom from the chains of "should" and "can't", freedom from fear, from cringing, from self-loathing, from what others think, even from what God thinks. (Try not to tar and feather me here; hear me out.) The truth is not that God is counting our sins or that He has this huge club waiting to smash us when we mess up. The truth is that we were forgiven before time even began, and Jesus came to Earth to show us that the way to personal relationship God was open to all. He came to take us by the hand and bring us to God (reconciliation) so that we could see that God viewed us as holy and blameless before Him. All we had to do was say Yes to Him - and we walked through the doorway of free will into the blessed truth that He has forgiven us ALL of our sins: past, present, and future - and made us a part of His body. His life courses through our spiritual veins. We are free. 

The old gospel men's quartet, The Imperials, used to sing a song called "Praise the Lord" featuring blues singer Russ Taff. One of the verses (and the chorus that follows) goes like this (emphasis mine),

Now Satan is a liar, and he wants to make us think
that we are paupers when he knows himself we're children of the King. 
So lift up the mighty shield of faith, for the battle has been won, 
we know that Jesus Christ is risen, so the work's already done!

  Praise the Lord - He can work through those who praise Him;
  Praise the Lord - for our God inhabits praise!
  Praise the Lord - for the chains that seem to bind you
  serve only to remind you that they drop powerless behind you
  when you praise Him.

I don't know how many ways I can say it. We are FREE. He has FREED us. He has redeemed us from slavery. We could not buy our own freedom; He bought it for us to prove His love for us and acceptance of us, just so we could feel FREE to be in relationship with Him. Just like old times. Just like the Garden. Walking with Him. Talking with Him all the time. Every moment, not a chore but a delight. Hello!! 

So yes, my heart's cry lately has been this, in the words of Bon Jovi : "I just wanna live while I'm alive." He has called me, like Lazarus, from the tomb. I don't want to toddle around still wrapped up in those putrid graveclothes of duty and obligation and fear. I want to be free! I want to ... Get Unwrapped! 

The Reason

I see the expression "Jesus is the reason for the season" posted a lot on social media and talked about in groups of friends who share the Christian faith. And I get it. I really do. When my family and I gather on the morning of December 25, the Christmas story is the first thing we focus on before anything else, and we sing Happy Birthday Jesus (or try to - see this link). 

But as we go through the years, we have come to question a lot of the trappings that go with the celebration of Christmas. We understand that December 25th was the date chosen in the early 4th century as "Christ-mass" or "celebration of Christ" by an emperor (Constantine) who wanted Christianity to be the "state religion," and who appropriated the festival of Saturnalia (celebrating the Roman god Saturn, the god of agriculture) to make the transition more palatable. Saturnalia is the pagan holiday, celebrated between December 17 and 24, from which we get our "Christian" tradition of giving gifts, feasting, erecting and decorating an evergreen tree, hanging garlands and wreaths, and using holly branches/berries in decorations.  The lengthening days just after the winter solstice (December 21) meant that many people in ancient times (including the Romans) lit lights (candles and lamps) to welcome the coming Sun.

Photo by Brent Keane from Pexels

Other traditions come from other religious beliefs: the Yule log come from the pagans of Europe, mistletoe comes from the Druids, ivy (used in Christmas decorations in England) is an ancient Roman symbol of the god Bacchus, the god of wine and pleasure, and the modern Santa Claus, thought to be a North American adaptation of the English Father Christmas, had his origins far earlier, in the supreme god Odin from Norse mythology, who is always depicted as an old bearded man in flowing robes. As we know, the Vikings influenced the development of early Anglo-Saxon culture in England.

In addition, the date itself is suspect. It is most likely that Jesus was not born on December 25, or even in the winter. (Yay for no snow!) He was probably born in the early spring, for that is when ancient Hebrew shepherds kept flocks of ewes and lambs outside of Bethlehem, a bedroom community not far from Jerusalem. The lambs were born in late February or early March, and remained with their mothers for the first few weeks in preparation for the Passover feast, so it is likely that Jesus was born in March or April.

Knowing all this means, for me, that I hold the traditions and trappings loosely and that I no longer associate them with the actual celebration of Jesus' birth. Because we have a statutory holiday devoted to the celebration of "Christmas," December 25 is a convenient time for me to remember that God became man, to commemorate His birth, and to spend time with family and friends. Yes, we decorate - but not a whole lot. Yes, we exchange gifts, but we try to make those gifts meaningful expressions of love instead of an obligation based on guilt or greed. Yes, we have a big meal - turkey with dressing and some sort of pie for dessert - but we choose to share that meal with at least one person who otherwise would be alone on a day that many associate with being among family and friends.

But Jesus is the Reason for the season only because we (as believers) choose to make it so. There seems to me to be a certain amount of arrogance in how Christians have judged those who celebrate December 25 without Jesus at the centre of it. We have chosen to celebrate Jesus' birthday at this time, but others - because they are not Christian - have every right to celebrate it however they wish. 

So it makes no difference to me whether people say Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, or whatever, to wish each other well during this season. I look at the well wishes behind such words and I say back to them, "Same to you!" instead of trying to make them feel guilty for using the "wrong" words. At this time of year, when the nights are longest and the endless winter stretches out before us in such bleakness, it is good to remember that there are certain things which transcend circumstance and tie us together as human beings. We believers need not be obnoxious about our faith; that only drives people away. We can be kind, generous, and accepting, and attract people to Jesus rather than promote our own agendas (and in so doing, repel people). We can hold precious in our hearts the Babe who left such opulent richness to lay wrapped in rags, helpless, in a feeding trough.

And we can be grateful that He did this, knowing He would be rejected and crucified, to give us purpose. Himself. He IS The Reason - not for the season ... but for Living.

And you did not visit Me.

For I was hungry, and you didn’t feed me. I was thirsty, and you didn’t give me a drink. I was a stranger, and you didn’t invite me into your home. I was naked, and you didn’t give me clothing. I was sick and in prison, and you didn’t visit me.’
“Then they will reply, ‘Lord, when did we ever see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and not help you?’
“And he will answer, ‘I tell you the truth, when you refused to help the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were refusing to help me.’ - - Matthew 25

He lives in poverty. Oh, to look at it from the surface (because Heaven forbid you look too closely) it might not seem so, but he often has to make the choice between eating and paying the electric or the phone bill, and sometimes both bills. He is on social assistance because he has no other choice. Seriously. There are people who really CANNOT work.

His house is dirty and messy. It is that way because he cannot see well enough to clean it. He is on the list for a cataract surgery, but there is no date on that yet. He longs to be able to see. He hates living like this. He is unable to work because of his vision and many other health problems ... but he would love to be able to work to pay his bills on time and afford to do so many things that people who don't live in poverty take for granted.

He doesn't trust people, because people have always let him down. They have hurt him, or taken advantage of his generosity when he had a bit more money, or they judged him, so he has learned to be wary of people and might even push them away. He especially doesn't trust Christians. They sit back in their nice houses and designer clothes and they judge him without taking the time to know him. He has no time for people like that. 

So on the surface, he seems prickly by nature. He calls it like he sees it, and that makes people uncomfortable. So they stay away. As a result, he is lonely. And you might think that he has brought it on himself, that if he were more friendly, he might have more friends. But almost everyone he has ever known or trusted in his life has either let him down, or judged him, or used him, or a combination of all three. He can't afford to trust.

Image from Pixabay - a blur of long grass

He has his property, the one good thing he has left of his parents: his father, who died years ago, and his mother, who deeded the property to him before she got dementia and had to be placed in a nursing home. He has one beat-up little car, which he just barely manages to keep road-worthy in case he needs to drive it, which doesn't happen often.

Everything else has been stolen from him. The neighbors drive by the house and shake their heads, tutting to themselves when they see that his lawn is overgrown, grass as tall as four feet in some places. They don't bother to stop in and ask him if he would like someone to come in and cut it for him. They wouldn't do it for nothing. Rather than care for him, they would rather think he doesn't care. He does care. He just cannot physically go out there and use a push mower. He has a heart condition, a lung condition, failing kidneys, is nearly blind with cataracts, and he has other health conditions as well. And he simply cannot afford to pay someone to cut the grass, nor could he afford a ride-on mower in a million years. Simple as that. 

He used to have homemakers coming in to the house. But someone saw a rodent trap and then they refused to come in. The house has rodents because part of the house sits on a mud basement, but he cannot afford to do the home renovations that would need to be done to keep the critters from coming in. He has battled them for months ... and he is winning. But until the gateway is closed (that is, until there is a cement barrier), the battle will continue. He has asked the government for help. But there is one problem. There is no guarantee that the government will help him.

He has nobody to help. And everyone assumes that someone else will do it. So nobody does.

The church has forgotten him. They are too busy raising funds for this or that missionary half a world away while he lives in squalor beneath their very noses. They hold those upturned noses and look the other way because he doesn't attend church, so they consider him to be apostate. He doesn't attend because he has been too hurt by Christians judging him in that exact way just because he gets frustrated and loses his temper with people sometimes. Live in poverty yourself, and then see how quickly you lose your temper.  

Every unexpected bill that arrives is a crisis. Every unexpected setback is overwhelming. He has attempted suicide ... and only an intramural nurse saved his life because she called him after he had taken the pills. She called the ambulance and they came and got him. He was in the hospital for weeks, battling depression and hopelessness and panic. You didn't know that, did you? No, because you forgot him; he was easy to forget.

Strangers help him before the church would ever think to. It was strangers in a community service organization who replaced his fridge when it got broken last winter. They came in and took out the old one, set up the new one and brought groceries to put in it. And these strangers were NOT from a Christian organization. 

The only family members who do care for him live so far away that it is very difficult to make sure his needs are met from day to day. They have their own bills to pay too. They help whenever they can, but it is not enough; he lives on only $537 a month, and no more. In the day by day reality, he lives with the knowledge that others have the power to get together and help him, but they don't. Or they won't. 

And there are many others like him out there, people the church has forgotten because 'the government will look after them.'  Well - the government keeps these people below the poverty line so that they will be motivated to seek work. But this fellow can't work. What about him? 

What about you? What about me? Where do we fit into all of this? Do we - as a result of our own lack of action - keep people like this gentleman trapped in what amounts to a prison of poverty, just because he doesn't look like, talk like, or act like us? Do they have to clean up their act and be more like us just so we will look at them?

I'm not saying he hasn't made mistakes in the past. I'm not saying he isn't making mistakes now. But the fact remains that he is struggling for every last hour he remains on the planet. It should not have to be so hard. WE do not have to be so hard.

We have lost our Way. And if we don't find the Way of compassion and love, someday we may hear that WE did not feed, clothe or visit the ones in need. 

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!