I'm not worthy....

There was a post on the Mom's group I'm part of on Facebook about abusive husbands and the long term fall-out around that kind of violence.  And it got me to thinking and remembering and reflecting on an experience from my college days.

The summer between my sophomore and junior years at Earlham, my bestie at the time, Sarah and I went on an adventure in Brazil.  We had planned on spending the whole summer trekking around the mountains and the Amazon.  And then our plans took a sharp left turn. 

We were staying in a house on the side of a mountain outside of a smallish town.  It was lovely - overlooking the ocean, quiet and secluded.  And in our youth and foolishness, I suppose that it never really occurred to us that it was also a dangerous choice.  One night, we were startled by noise in the upstairs bathroom and went to investigate.  And were robbed at knife-point.  It was beyond anything that the word terrifying can convey.  I will never forget certain moments of that night - there are perfectly preserved snapshots in my mind and heart. 

I was thinking about the days and weeks after that night and my struggle to come back into myself and step out of the deep fear that gripped my soul back into normalcy when it struck me that it had literally been years since I had thanked my God for preserving my life and the life of my friend that night. 

We did not live through that by our own strength or wits (we were too scared to even pee our pants).....we were spared from death and injury by nothing other than God's grace and mercy.  It wasn't fate or good luck or anything other than the Lord Jesus' hand staying the Enemy from destroying us. 

And had I not been taking a shower in the world's smallest shower stall, I would have hit my knees in joyful thanksgiving.  Instead I threw my hands to the sky and praised my Jesus for my life. 

Thank you Lord for the gift of my life.
Thank you Lord for the gift of my life.
And again...
Thank you Lord for the gift of my life.

And I wept tears of gratitude, humbled that the King of Heaven remembered me and Sarah in our distress.

And I prayed - Lord, help me be worthy of the gift of my life.
And instantly, I knew.  I knew that that prayer was wrong.  It was a wet blanket thrown over the joy of true gratitude.

What, Lord?  What is wrong? 

And then the voice of my Savior spoken into the deep and sad and angry and fearful places of my heart:  Mary, do you still not understand?  You are worthy.  YOU ARE WORTHY.  I have already made you so.  You are worthy of the gift of not only your life - but you are worthy of the gift of my life.  You have been worthy since I knew you before time began.  Now do you see?  You are worthy.

Crushed.  Humbled.  Hopeful.  Glimpsing God's goodness and mercy.  I wept tears of gratitude that perhaps I understood a little.

And a new prayer.  Lord, help me to truly rejoice in the gift of my life.  Help me to rejoice. 
Rejoice. 
Rejoice.

Pick Your Poison

We have a neighbor who lost a relative to suicide in the last week.  And while I'm totally not negating the pain that comes with such a loss (a pain I cannot begin to imagine), I've wondered in the last few days about the meaning and nature of despair, about the means by which we combat deep sadness (or don't combat it, as the case may be), about having a living body but a spirit that is dead, about how culturally acceptable it is to slowly murder ourselves, about what it means to LIVE.

I'm not sure I have ever really grasped what the phrase 'abundant life' actually is, actually feels, actually looks like.  I'm much more  at home with the phrase 'ok life,' or 'this day has really sucked life,' or 'woe is me life.'  I'm far more adept at feeling sorry for myself than I am at giving thanks for really much of anything.  And I totally know how to get down and stay down - and in the process drag everybody else down with me.  I don't really mean to despair - but it's JUST SO MUCH EASIER in my flesh than to be joyful and grateful.

Are you with me?  Or am I the only bummer around here?

This down-ness inevitably leads to self-medication.  And there are many forms of slow poison we can choose. 

And then there's the heart issues.  What if our body is physically alive but are hearts are squeezed to death by spiritual immaturities?  What if we are slowly killing ourselves, our relationships and the hearts of our loved ones with things like

envy

gossip

bitterness

unforgiveness

laziness

wastefulness

apathy

unkindness

anger

malice

rage

self-righteousness

pride.

My friends, there are all kinds of ways to kill what is beautiful and holy and glorious in ourselves and others.  But there's only one way to live.  And his name is Jesus.  The problem is that we are too prideful, too apathetic and too frightened to let go our crutches and LIVE.  At least I am - because I know how to limp along and keep a bandaid on the really ugly things about myself.  But God's not fooled.  Not one little bit.  And every moment that I resist God's salvation for my dying self, every self-loathing thought and attitude, every breath that wounds another of His children - every barrier, fence, and defense that I raise to my Jesus' desire for my abudant life is choice to DIE.  I pray for the strength and courage to live and love and glorify my Lord.

The root of mercy

January was a long hard month.  Really long and really hard.  We had just over three weeks of really wicked stomach bugs that we just passed around and around (well, they passed...Mama never got sick - I just had to clean up after all of them!). 

Then my Nana was taken to the hospital for a week long stay after a dangerously low blood sugar and now is finishing up a month or so of inpatient rehab. 

And the Big Sarge switched over to third shift. 

And I've been really, really, really tired.  And thus, really, really, really rude.  To everyone.  But mostly my husband.

At some point this month, I made a conscious decision to really pray about my mouth and its destructive power.  And I've been doing pretty well.  Not perfect...but, my name's not Jesus. 

I'll give you an example:  the other day, The Big Sarge said something that really irritated me.  Really.  I just totally thought that what he said was really stupid and immature.  And instead of telling him so, I kept my mouth shut.  I knew that I just needed to pray about this area for him - pray that he would get a little further along in his journey and really just be better...and because he had this little wrinkle in his personality, I really wanted to be merciful towards him...I'm not immature in this particular way so I should be patient and kind to him until he catches up with me.  That's mercy, right?

Wrong.

That's not mercy.  That's pride and self-righteousness.  My Holy Spirit whispered these loud, blaring words into my heart.  Mercy is not born out of seeing the one, microscopic aspect of myself that I have momentarily conquered and then patronizing and patting on the head those who are still struggling there.  Mercy is born out precisely the opposite place.  It is born out of the real, deep and total knowledge of my own shortcomings - when I view myself in light of God's perfect holiness, there is no room for me to be anything but humble....when I view myself in light of God's mercy on me, how can I do anything but show real, true mercy to those around me.

The end result may be the same - I may manage to keep my mouth shut - but Jesus isn't interested just in the end result....He is interested in the heart.

The Heart. 

My Heart.  Your Heart.

And while I do think (hope.  pray) that I get half-credit for at least keeping my mouth shut, dear Jesus isn't satisfied until my motivation is right.

Does this discourage you?  It discourages me.  A lot.  But it shouldn't.  Five years ago, none of this would ever have even occur ed to me. I would have gleefully slayed my man with my mouth and never looked back.  And I would have stomped on and flamed the little bits of him that had dropped off during my attack.  It's a process.  Five years ago, I had no idea my heart wasn't right - at least now I know and can pray for forgiveness. 

And strive.  Strive.  Strive. 

Not striving for right behavior.  But striving for a heart that is like Christ's.

that about sums it up

To maintain a joyful family requires

much from both the parents and the

children.  Each member of the family has

to become, in a special way, the servant

of the others and share their burdens. 

Each one must show concern not only for

his or her own life, but also for the lives of the other members of the family: 

their needs, their hopes,

their ideals.

Blessed John Paul II

Organizational Nonsense

Several months ago, after trying to get one thing out of my spice cabinet and having fifteen others fall out on my head AGAIN (!#^@*), I decided it was time to _actually_do something about this mess besides complain and semi-swear about it.


So I pulled everything out of the cabinet and was surprised to see how much really cool stuff was hiding in back of my cabinet.

Chaos!!  Chaos!!

that's A LOT of coriander...good thing we eat it 'most every day...

baking stuff....too bad I don't bake much....

So, we sorted and got rid of, labelled and reorganized....and it was beautiful.

Baking stuff all together on the top shelf....herbs together, seeds together,  all the bags poured into jars and labelled, all the spice blends snuggled up together.  It's lovely.  Really.  I was really feeling great about myself.  And then this thought came to me:

Child, you've just spent an hour organizing hundreds of dollars worth of seasonings. 

Seasonings.  Not even food

that would keep you alive.  Do you know

that people are starving?  Starving.  Are you sure your priorities are in the right order?

I would like to think that my cabinet of spices is no big deal.....but is it? 

How do I justify it to this baby's Mama?

How do I explain to her why my babies are healthy, clean and well fed.

Or how about to these people?



Do you think that they would be sympathetic to my dissatisfied heart about my house because its a double-wide in a really nice park with no room for a real garden - and not a real house with a big yard and a tree swing? 

My life's really tough, isn't it?

And I moan and groan because I've overfed myself and so some of my clothes don't fit and I don't have money to buy new ones.  Or my husband blessedly has a job in this tough economy, but he's not making enough money for my taste.  Or my Bible isn't the perfect translation.  Or I can't afford the most perfect curriculum for my homeschooled kids - while all over the world, children are doomed to a life of illiteracy because they lack a pencil.  A freaking pencil....

<><> <><> <><>

(photo from http://thepencilproject.com/ 
check them out....I think we'll be getting to know these folks very soon!)

I'm not saying that it's wrong to research good curriculum or buy new clothes or even have a really nice house.  I'm saying it's wrong to have those things first - first on our minds, first in our checkbooks, first in our hearts. 

What kind of wretch am I that I won't buy cheap mayonnaise because it doesn't taste as good, and then go home and wonder if I can afford to make my monthly commitment of $64 to Food for the Hungry for two sponsored children? 

What, I'm really not willing to go without one bit of food for my over-sated self, one bit of comfort in a house crammed full of comforts, one single ounce of selfishness to meet the basic needs of a brother or sister in Christ? 

Maybe I'm overthinking this.  Exaggerating.  Making something out of nothing.  Maybe.  But one thing I KNOW for certain - one day I will have to stand and face the Lord Jesus in judgement and I will have to give an accounting for my life.  And I seriously don't think a well-ordered spice cabinet, a well-groomed lawn or even well-educated children are going to win me any favor. 

If I have any hope of hearing, "Well done..." my life, my heart, my priorities, my goals, my dreams, my checkbook, my waistline, my closet, my attitude - they all have to begin to change NOW.  And change radically. 

My whole life has to be about Kingdom work....about making sure that EVERYONE - from LadyBug, Firecracker and the Griz to my neighbors to my brothers and sister around the world - knows that the Lord Jesus is in love with them.  That He seeks them.  That He wants, more than anything, to wrap them in His mercy and goodness - no matter who they, where they are or what they are doing.  That the Bible is not ancient history, not a collection of moralistic fables, not an instruction book - but a LOVE STORY written to and for and about them. 

It's ok to organize our kitchens....but it's probably also about time to organize our priorities.

Hey Mama, shut up already!

I talk too much.  And I referee too much.  So, let me tell you a story about the day I actually shut my mouth.

I HATE bickering.  I hate it when my kids pick at, poke at, aggravate at, and are generally mean to each other.  I think it's awful.  It seems like just a ridiculous waste of time and energy.  My usual response is to intervene and try to logically explain to them why this nonsense ought to cease.  I'm sure you can guess how effective this strategy is. 

I think the reason that it's such an abyssmal failure, is that I'm always trying to be in on the solution.  And if the problem isn't about me....guess what?  The solution isn't about me, either. 

So, a few nights ago, as we were driving home from Gram's......the bickering began in the back.  And I said 

And it got louder and nastier.  And I said

And they were by now saying some really nasty stuff.  REALLY NASTY.  And I said

Instead of running my big fat mouth, I prayed.  Prayed for silence, for patience, for remorse, for change of heart, that they would forget the nasty things they had heard said to them, for them to love each other. 

By the time we got home, tempers were hot - Firecracker took off as if she had been shot out of a cannon as soon as the van door was open.  She wasn't coming into the house.  She didn't live here any more.  She didn't care.  She hated all of us.  And I very calmly told her that if she wasn't on my 6 by the time I was inside, she was locked out for the night. 

And the LadyBug began to cry. 

Crying is not a normal activity for the LadyBug.  I resisted the urge to let my mouth hang open in stunned amazement. 

Somehow, we all made it inside and by the time I had the Griz settled and changed, the Bigs were each squirreled away in separate corners with notebooks and pencils, hard at work on something.  It turns out that they were writing each other letters of apology.

I hadn't said a single word during the argument or since we had been home about what they should and should not do or say.  I asked the LadyBug later what had happened and she told me that she just had to say she was sorry because some of the things she had said were SO mean and nasty. 

Because I didn't referee the boxing match, it got really ugly, really fast....but I think that was the best thing for them.  I didn't get in the way of the real ugliness of bickering and fighting at its end point.  I never want them to say the really mean stuff, so I stop them.  But on this occasion, I let them fire everything they had at each other.  And once all that nasty stuff hit the air and they heard out loud all the things that they say in the privacy of their hearts, they heard and understood how dreadfully unkind and sinful it was.  And  the reality of it brought them to a place of repentence (for the moment....I'm sure we'll sing this song a few hundred more times around here). 

And I began to think about all the little bits of bitter nastiness that I've got stored up all around inside of my heart.  We all have piles and piles of nasty, oozy, black stuff that we harbor in our hearts towards other people; those vile, wretched, stored-up hateful commentaries that we have written about our friends and enemies - they seem somehow tolerable because they are only in our own minds and hearts.  But it's not tolerable to the great God who discerns our thoughts from afar.  And whether or not you can justify these nasties in your own mind, I'm pretty sure that God's not buying your excuse.  People injure us.  People are rude and ugly (in many different ways).  People are spiteful and impatient and have wicked tongues.  But that does not excuse our bitterness, anger and resentment of them.  Because every ounce of injury and rudeness, every cutting remark, every slight that I have endured...I have earned them all (and more) by the injury I've done to others. 

And what's more, if we are to be all in for Christ, hard followers of a risen Savior......the whole stinking point is Romans 5:8 anyway:

But God demonstrates His

own love toward us, in that

while we were still sinners,

Christ died for us.

We don't get to repay like with like.  We don't get to get even.  We don't get to wait sullenly until the other guy says he's sorry.  Out of gratitude for the gift our very lives, our very next breath - we are to run to those who we ought to hate and shower them with mercy and kindness.  We are to push through our feelings of distaste and mistrust and love those who have taken a big crap on us.  We are to give our possessions to those who don't deserve them.  And we're to do all this ridiculous stuff with a joyful heart. 

That's just crazy talk, I know.  But don't you want to live in a world of crazy people who love you, really love you in spite of yourself?  Imagine for a moment what your marriage would look like.  What your neighborhood would look like.  Your workplace.  Can you begin to imagine what your church would look like if you actually LOVED the people in the next pew - and they loved you. 

Pray for me this week as I try on a little bit of crazy. 

not exactly a stellar day

This is a day that I could have just as easily skipped....except for a really sweet note that a young friend wrote to me.....

Too bad that I was supposed to be rejoicing, continuously praying and giving thanks for every circumstance (1 Thessalonions 5:16-18) that broke my heart, pissed me off and made me want to scream and swear.  Or at least that's what the apostle Paul tells me.....then again, what does he know?

Well, Lord, they say your mercies are new every morning.....let's pray that mine will be, too. 

      Through the Lord's mercies we are not consumed,
      Because His compassions fail not.
      They are new every morning;
      Great is Your faithfulness.
      "The Lord is my portion," says my soul,

      "Therefore, I hope in Him."

               Lamentations 3:22-24 (NKJV)