On Saturday, October 2nd, my two oldest monkeys will be participating in the Ride for Refuge formerly known as the Ride for Refugee. I believe this is the 7th ride and my family's fifth year participating. The money raised by my family will go to supporting a local refugee housing community and towards building a school in Sudan.
This is the second year that my children have ridden. Last year they chose to ride after becoming friends with a refugee family at their school. This family had fled persecution in Africa because of their faith. The mother had been jailed, and the father remains there in prison. His crime? Pastoring a church not approved by the government. They have four beautiful children ranging in age from 10 to 4 years old. The second youngest struggles with anxiety resulting from their struggles. We are so thankful that they made it safely here and have been granted refugee status.
This year, my children wanted to ride again. In April, they started telling us how much they want to ride. So, here they are, preparing for another ride day. Steve and I will be chasing them with Kian on somebody's back. :) If you would like to support them financially, click here to support Aris and here to support Zane. Please keep us in prayer on Saturday that we would participate well, being kind towards each other and not impatient even when exhaustion sets in. Click here to see this year's awesome ride video. It details the history and the importance of the ride. Together, we can change the world.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Monday, September 27, 2010
The Blessings of Failure
I'm joining with Marla and friends for week 3 of the Radical Read-Along. This week's chapter is on the importance of relying on God's power.
In this culture, we are told that it is possible to achieve any goal if we work hard enough. There is inspirational story after inspirational story about a boy or girl who grew up rough, worked three jobs, put themselves through university, never ever gave up, ate crackers for one whole year and now is the chief cardio surgeon at a major hospital, university professor, billionaire entrepreneur, president, lawyer, fill-in-the-blank. We tell our children that they can be anything they want to be, that they can achieve any goal if they put their minds to it. This is a can-do culture. There is no obstacle that creativity, determination, ingenuity and hard work can't overcome. And in this culture, we really don't need God for anything other than a feel good fix, a sense of morality or someone to thank during our acceptance speech.
That's sad. And wrong.
We don't hear about the people who fail. We hear about those who fail and succeed, but not the ones that work their tushies off only to burn out or fall ill because of the immense physical and emotional stress that comes with that lifestyle. We don't hear about the ones who try their best only to be consistently told that it isn't good enough. Not only do we not talk about them, they're the ones we look down on. The ones that couldn't just rise above, couldn't make it on their own but instead dropped out, filed for bankruptcy, or started popping pills and attending regular therapy sessions to cope with depression or other mental health issues.
Can you guess which category I'm in?
I would label myself as a failure. I've struggled with depression since I was a young child, was severely bullied on several occasions and just generally didn't fit in. I'm not crafty, not athletic, mathematically challenged, and definitely not a good housekeeper! I dropped out of university on the verge of burnout after working full-time and attending school full-time because I was single and pregnant with my first child. Currently I'm battling both chronic fatigue and post-traumatic stress disorder. Neither of these are fun. Both of these illnesses easily earn me the failure label. However, in my failures, I've learned something amazing.
Failure isn't a bad thing. Neither is being inadequate.
The amazing thing about failure is that it points us to God. Doesn't just point us there, failure sends us directly to God, often on our knees. I cry out to God because I am dependent on Him. My crisis pregnancy was really a lifesaver, because through that horrible experience I came back to God and met Him in a whole new way. When I lost my ability to walk in the last months of my pregnancy, I spent most of my time praying and in the Word. Failure was a very good thing for me.
Failure doesn't just force me to depend on God, it means that I give Him all the glory. The Scripture says that no one comes to God unless he or she is called by the Holy Spirit. That's easy to forget when we have a rocking worship band, a well-spoken pastor, an uber-friendly congregation, dynamic small groups and a great outreach program. Platt says" I am frightened by the reality that the church I lead can carry on most of our activities smoothly, efficiently, even successfully, never realizing that the Holy Spirit of God is virtually absent from the picture"(p.50). This frightens me. I don't want to be so reliant on my own abilities that I stop relying on the awesome power of the Holy Spirit who can do more than I can ask or imagine.
Another good thing about being inadequate is that I have seen God show up and do something amazing. About three years ago, I connected with a young single mom. It was a God-thing in and how we met, with both of us being in the right place at the right time and then me stepping completely out of my comfort zone, chasing her down, knocking on her door and introducing myself. Strangely, she didn't run away. We became friends, but I felt as if I failed her. I didn't try hard enough to connect, didn't chase her down more, didn't speak more about God to her. She'd randomly show up at my door, often when I was in the middle of chaos, I'd invite her in and we'd chat. One day we hung out and she revealed that she'd recently became a Christian. That was awesome! But still, she struggled and wandered and I was busy with my own life. Several months ago, I worried about how much I had failed her. It made me sad. Then a couple weeks later, she was back in my life. As we talked, I was amazed to learn how much I had encouraged and supported her when I felt the opposite. For me, this was God's way of saying "It is not about you! Not at all!" She asked me to be one of her bridesmaids and is a very special friend of mine. I honestly can't take the credit for that.
In the last couple months, I've had other encounters like that. Places where I wasn't good enough, didn't put enough in and God showed up and did something amazing, far beyond what I had hoped or dreamed. I've learned a lot about what God can do. I've also learned about what I need to do. It's simple: I need to believe, obey and pray.
I've written before about BHAGs. After seeing what God has done and after reading this chapter of Radical, about the Holy Spirit's indwelling power, I have a new Big Hairy Audacious Goal. Currently I am praying that God will bring every person in my children's school, from the principal down to the extended family members of the students to a saving knowledge of Christ. Can I do this? Nope, not at all. Can God? Well, He saved about three thousand people in one day in Acts, so I'm pretty sure a school of about 200 students in a year isn't a challenge. :)
My encouragement to you is to not let failure discourage you. Rather, embrace the One who is able to do all things. If you try to be perfect, it's okay to stop. Let God be at work in you this year. As you fail, rejoice in the amazing things He does. Don't just stop there though. I challenge you to set a crazy God-sized goal that only He can fulfill. Then pray and see what He can do. It might not look the way you expect, but it's bound to be spectacular.
In this culture, we are told that it is possible to achieve any goal if we work hard enough. There is inspirational story after inspirational story about a boy or girl who grew up rough, worked three jobs, put themselves through university, never ever gave up, ate crackers for one whole year and now is the chief cardio surgeon at a major hospital, university professor, billionaire entrepreneur, president, lawyer, fill-in-the-blank. We tell our children that they can be anything they want to be, that they can achieve any goal if they put their minds to it. This is a can-do culture. There is no obstacle that creativity, determination, ingenuity and hard work can't overcome. And in this culture, we really don't need God for anything other than a feel good fix, a sense of morality or someone to thank during our acceptance speech.
That's sad. And wrong.
We don't hear about the people who fail. We hear about those who fail and succeed, but not the ones that work their tushies off only to burn out or fall ill because of the immense physical and emotional stress that comes with that lifestyle. We don't hear about the ones who try their best only to be consistently told that it isn't good enough. Not only do we not talk about them, they're the ones we look down on. The ones that couldn't just rise above, couldn't make it on their own but instead dropped out, filed for bankruptcy, or started popping pills and attending regular therapy sessions to cope with depression or other mental health issues.
Can you guess which category I'm in?
I would label myself as a failure. I've struggled with depression since I was a young child, was severely bullied on several occasions and just generally didn't fit in. I'm not crafty, not athletic, mathematically challenged, and definitely not a good housekeeper! I dropped out of university on the verge of burnout after working full-time and attending school full-time because I was single and pregnant with my first child. Currently I'm battling both chronic fatigue and post-traumatic stress disorder. Neither of these are fun. Both of these illnesses easily earn me the failure label. However, in my failures, I've learned something amazing.
Failure isn't a bad thing. Neither is being inadequate.
The amazing thing about failure is that it points us to God. Doesn't just point us there, failure sends us directly to God, often on our knees. I cry out to God because I am dependent on Him. My crisis pregnancy was really a lifesaver, because through that horrible experience I came back to God and met Him in a whole new way. When I lost my ability to walk in the last months of my pregnancy, I spent most of my time praying and in the Word. Failure was a very good thing for me.
Failure doesn't just force me to depend on God, it means that I give Him all the glory. The Scripture says that no one comes to God unless he or she is called by the Holy Spirit. That's easy to forget when we have a rocking worship band, a well-spoken pastor, an uber-friendly congregation, dynamic small groups and a great outreach program. Platt says" I am frightened by the reality that the church I lead can carry on most of our activities smoothly, efficiently, even successfully, never realizing that the Holy Spirit of God is virtually absent from the picture"(p.50). This frightens me. I don't want to be so reliant on my own abilities that I stop relying on the awesome power of the Holy Spirit who can do more than I can ask or imagine.
Another good thing about being inadequate is that I have seen God show up and do something amazing. About three years ago, I connected with a young single mom. It was a God-thing in and how we met, with both of us being in the right place at the right time and then me stepping completely out of my comfort zone, chasing her down, knocking on her door and introducing myself. Strangely, she didn't run away. We became friends, but I felt as if I failed her. I didn't try hard enough to connect, didn't chase her down more, didn't speak more about God to her. She'd randomly show up at my door, often when I was in the middle of chaos, I'd invite her in and we'd chat. One day we hung out and she revealed that she'd recently became a Christian. That was awesome! But still, she struggled and wandered and I was busy with my own life. Several months ago, I worried about how much I had failed her. It made me sad. Then a couple weeks later, she was back in my life. As we talked, I was amazed to learn how much I had encouraged and supported her when I felt the opposite. For me, this was God's way of saying "It is not about you! Not at all!" She asked me to be one of her bridesmaids and is a very special friend of mine. I honestly can't take the credit for that.
In the last couple months, I've had other encounters like that. Places where I wasn't good enough, didn't put enough in and God showed up and did something amazing, far beyond what I had hoped or dreamed. I've learned a lot about what God can do. I've also learned about what I need to do. It's simple: I need to believe, obey and pray.
I've written before about BHAGs. After seeing what God has done and after reading this chapter of Radical, about the Holy Spirit's indwelling power, I have a new Big Hairy Audacious Goal. Currently I am praying that God will bring every person in my children's school, from the principal down to the extended family members of the students to a saving knowledge of Christ. Can I do this? Nope, not at all. Can God? Well, He saved about three thousand people in one day in Acts, so I'm pretty sure a school of about 200 students in a year isn't a challenge. :)
My encouragement to you is to not let failure discourage you. Rather, embrace the One who is able to do all things. If you try to be perfect, it's okay to stop. Let God be at work in you this year. As you fail, rejoice in the amazing things He does. Don't just stop there though. I challenge you to set a crazy God-sized goal that only He can fulfill. Then pray and see what He can do. It might not look the way you expect, but it's bound to be spectacular.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Milk
I'm joining with Marla for week two of the Radical Read-along.
May I take a moment to say that this book, specifically this chapter, has changed my life? I know, I know, this sounds so cliched and overused, but really it has. So last month, I started reading Radical. Now, I get so wrapped up into books that I don't typically notice chapter breaks. Until I sat down to re-read Chapter 1, I thought that the part that impacted me the most was the first chapter. Nope, it was the second one. I need to preface this post that there is just too much to cover properly in one post. I've decided that I'm going to just stick with describing how it changed my life. However, that leaves out a lot of really good important material. I may have to post again. We'll see. Anyhoo....here's my story.
What hit me the most in this chapter was the insatiable hunger that the persecuted church has for God's word. I do not have that hunger. For most of my life, I've read the Bible daily. I've gone through fasts where I've only read God's Word. But to be honest, that's been out of a sense of obligation. My pastors say that God speaks to me through His word, so I'm going to read it. But for the most part, I'd prefer a novel. And since I typically am reading something interesting, I often skimp on my Bible reading or approach it with a sense of duty rather than with anything close to hunger.
Reading about the intense hunger these believers had for God's Word really convicted me. For years I've journaled my prayers, so I grabbed my Bible and my journal and headed outside. Sitting next to my forest, I prayed, confessed my reluctance to read God's word, asked for a holy hunger and then began to read where I had left off. This verse leaped off the page and grabbed me by the throat: "Like newborn babies, you must crave pure spiritual milk so that you will grow into a full experience of salvation. Cry out for this nourishment, now that you have had a taste of the Lord's kindness." 1 Peter 2:2-3
It's hard for me to explain fully how deeply that verse impacted me. I should probably mention that I'm a lactavist. I've exclusively breastfed my three babies and believe that breastmilk is normal for human babies. Although I am very sensitive to the intense emotion surrounding feeding choices, I strongly believe that babies should be breastfed or given human milk in place of formula. After reading the verses above, I suddenly looked at my faith through the lenses of a lactivist. I have to say I was horrified with what was revealed.
Although I hold up the Bible as the Inspired Word of God suitable for instruction, discipline and encouragement, I don't live that way. Rather I've implemented my own form of "Breast is Best" whereby Scripture is best, but second best is okay. Reading devotionals, Christian fiction or inspirational books or even some great blogs are just as good as reading the Bible. I skim through my Bible reading or only half listen during the sermon because after all, I already know what's in the Bible, right? I desire spiritual junk food, a heavily processed and salted gospel, rather than the pure spiritual milk. As a result, I've wandered. The previous verse(1 Peter 2:1) tells us to get rid of all evil behaviours. He gives a list including unkind speech. I'm sure the others apply, but as I've rejected the Bible, my speech became unkind. I grew even more sarcastic, accusing, short-tempered and prone to gossip. In fact, I became addicted to gossip and forgot how to converse without gossipping. Those memories fill me with shame. (I should insert here that God has been dealing with me on gossipping for the past two years. He began the process after an innocent conversation with an unbelieving neighbour first revealed how wrong gossip is. It's still an area of temptation for me, but one in which I've seen huge victory.)
As you can imagine, reading those verses immediately after reading the accounts of those hungry believers had an immediate impact. I began a new practice of reading my Bible with my journal in hand. I would read and then write out my prayers, digging into the Bible in a whole new way. I've kept up that practice in the days and weeks that have followed. It's been almost a month now of reading, praying and digging deeper. I'm moving through the Scriptures slowly, verse by verse, sometimes skipping backwards if a verse grabs me or rereading entire passages for days in a row. And in the process I'm learning something new. God is speaking to me through His word. There have been several times now where I have cried out to God and then been answered the very next day by a verse I was reading. It is an incredible experience. Also slightly shocking, since I'm not used to reading the Bible like a Skype chat conversation.
Writing this is hard. I am ashamed to reveal my previous passivity towards God's Word. It pains me to see how deep sin got a foothold in my life as a result. But it is so exciting to see that as I read in this daily new way, God changes me. The growth in my life has been spectacular this past month. My prayer is that I will continue to desire Him and will crave His Word more and more.
May I take a moment to say that this book, specifically this chapter, has changed my life? I know, I know, this sounds so cliched and overused, but really it has. So last month, I started reading Radical. Now, I get so wrapped up into books that I don't typically notice chapter breaks. Until I sat down to re-read Chapter 1, I thought that the part that impacted me the most was the first chapter. Nope, it was the second one. I need to preface this post that there is just too much to cover properly in one post. I've decided that I'm going to just stick with describing how it changed my life. However, that leaves out a lot of really good important material. I may have to post again. We'll see. Anyhoo....here's my story.
What hit me the most in this chapter was the insatiable hunger that the persecuted church has for God's word. I do not have that hunger. For most of my life, I've read the Bible daily. I've gone through fasts where I've only read God's Word. But to be honest, that's been out of a sense of obligation. My pastors say that God speaks to me through His word, so I'm going to read it. But for the most part, I'd prefer a novel. And since I typically am reading something interesting, I often skimp on my Bible reading or approach it with a sense of duty rather than with anything close to hunger.
Reading about the intense hunger these believers had for God's Word really convicted me. For years I've journaled my prayers, so I grabbed my Bible and my journal and headed outside. Sitting next to my forest, I prayed, confessed my reluctance to read God's word, asked for a holy hunger and then began to read where I had left off. This verse leaped off the page and grabbed me by the throat: "Like newborn babies, you must crave pure spiritual milk so that you will grow into a full experience of salvation. Cry out for this nourishment, now that you have had a taste of the Lord's kindness." 1 Peter 2:2-3
It's hard for me to explain fully how deeply that verse impacted me. I should probably mention that I'm a lactavist. I've exclusively breastfed my three babies and believe that breastmilk is normal for human babies. Although I am very sensitive to the intense emotion surrounding feeding choices, I strongly believe that babies should be breastfed or given human milk in place of formula. After reading the verses above, I suddenly looked at my faith through the lenses of a lactivist. I have to say I was horrified with what was revealed.
Although I hold up the Bible as the Inspired Word of God suitable for instruction, discipline and encouragement, I don't live that way. Rather I've implemented my own form of "Breast is Best" whereby Scripture is best, but second best is okay. Reading devotionals, Christian fiction or inspirational books or even some great blogs are just as good as reading the Bible. I skim through my Bible reading or only half listen during the sermon because after all, I already know what's in the Bible, right? I desire spiritual junk food, a heavily processed and salted gospel, rather than the pure spiritual milk. As a result, I've wandered. The previous verse(1 Peter 2:1) tells us to get rid of all evil behaviours. He gives a list including unkind speech. I'm sure the others apply, but as I've rejected the Bible, my speech became unkind. I grew even more sarcastic, accusing, short-tempered and prone to gossip. In fact, I became addicted to gossip and forgot how to converse without gossipping. Those memories fill me with shame. (I should insert here that God has been dealing with me on gossipping for the past two years. He began the process after an innocent conversation with an unbelieving neighbour first revealed how wrong gossip is. It's still an area of temptation for me, but one in which I've seen huge victory.)
As you can imagine, reading those verses immediately after reading the accounts of those hungry believers had an immediate impact. I began a new practice of reading my Bible with my journal in hand. I would read and then write out my prayers, digging into the Bible in a whole new way. I've kept up that practice in the days and weeks that have followed. It's been almost a month now of reading, praying and digging deeper. I'm moving through the Scriptures slowly, verse by verse, sometimes skipping backwards if a verse grabs me or rereading entire passages for days in a row. And in the process I'm learning something new. God is speaking to me through His word. There have been several times now where I have cried out to God and then been answered the very next day by a verse I was reading. It is an incredible experience. Also slightly shocking, since I'm not used to reading the Bible like a Skype chat conversation.
Writing this is hard. I am ashamed to reveal my previous passivity towards God's Word. It pains me to see how deep sin got a foothold in my life as a result. But it is so exciting to see that as I read in this daily new way, God changes me. The growth in my life has been spectacular this past month. My prayer is that I will continue to desire Him and will crave His Word more and more.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Radical Read-along Chapter 1
Today I'm joining with Marla Taviano in reading through Radical.
Until about a month ago, I was unaware of Radical. Then one day I stumbled across a guest post by Marla and became intrigued. This fall I'm not attending any Bible or book studies and thought this might fill the hole. I wasn't quite sure because the book is about taking back your faith from the American Dream. Not only am I not American, the American Dream isn't something that I buy into, even the Canadian version. Instead, my family has chosen to live by faith on God's provision. Shortly before I met him, my husband left a ridiculously well-paying job to serve with a missions organization. We started our married life on a meagre salary and trusted that God would provide. He has and continues to, but we know that the normal goals of our society, like owning a house, are completely out of our means unless God miraculously provides. It's an interesting place to be.
But as I've read Radical, I've been convinced that this was God-sent. Already, reading Radical has changed my life. But I'll write about that next week. This chapter had different revelations. The biggest was how dangerously off-track my theology has become. See I have grown up a Christian in Canada. Although I live in a very multicultural city, there are plenty of churches and Christians around. We're not a Christian nation, but many of our forefathers were believers which shaped our country. Yeah, Christianity is mocked occasionally as being old-fashioned or too judgemental, but persecution isn't a big deal here. My country, especially the region I live in, is prosperous. Although there are problems, the majority of the poor have a roof over their head, food on the table, and access to schools, medicine and doctors. Life is pretty good here. It's not perfect, but as far as places to live, Canada is amazing. I am so blessed to live here.
And that's the problem. Because somehow my theology went from being blessed to being entitled. Somehow all those passages about being hated because I follow Christ, losing my family and friends or enduring hardship just didn't register. Deep down I believed that if I obeyed Christ, my life would be sunshine and roses. I'm sure part of this comes from growing up in a safe, prosperous nation and some comes from a Christian culture that focusses on the blessings of Christ. Even when the cost of following Christ is preached it doesn't add up with our Christian role models that enjoy both financial success and fame. Maybe our cost of following God is just that I go to church instead of sleeping in on Sunday mornings. And in my complacency, that seems like a high cost indeed. Nothing at all like those who follow Christ knowing that they may die and soon.
Over a year ago, I prayed some dangerous prayers. I asked God to change me. When I wrote that prayer, I was in awe of the amazing work God had done in my life and I was completely sold out to Him. It's probably a good thing I didn't realize what would happen next. God asked me to do something, and I obeyed. With a heart full of trust and love, I did what God asked, confident that nothing but good would come of it. After all, that's what happens when we obey right? God just pours out the blessings. I was not at all prepared for what happened. Within the next month, I was kicked out of ministry, unfriended by a very close friend who was also my mentor and socially ostracized. My world and my theology were turned upside down. As the months passed, God asked us to step out in faith. We continued to obey, often with unexpected and unpleasant results. I was angry at God. Where were the blessings of obedience?
Then I read Radical. I realized how off-base my theology was, how I had turned a God of power and holiness into a vending machine. I obey, He blesses. This is not the God of the Bible. Have you read what happened to the prophets? I have. I guess I just....forgot.
This then is my confession. I confess that I turned God into something comfortable and predictable. I confess that I have been angry with God. I confess that my faith is too comfortable, too easy. I am willing to obey, but not willing to endure hardship for His name's sake. This then is my goal: to count the cost and follow Him, willing to give up friends, family, prestige, reputation and even my life for the privilege of being His.
Until about a month ago, I was unaware of Radical. Then one day I stumbled across a guest post by Marla and became intrigued. This fall I'm not attending any Bible or book studies and thought this might fill the hole. I wasn't quite sure because the book is about taking back your faith from the American Dream. Not only am I not American, the American Dream isn't something that I buy into, even the Canadian version. Instead, my family has chosen to live by faith on God's provision. Shortly before I met him, my husband left a ridiculously well-paying job to serve with a missions organization. We started our married life on a meagre salary and trusted that God would provide. He has and continues to, but we know that the normal goals of our society, like owning a house, are completely out of our means unless God miraculously provides. It's an interesting place to be.
But as I've read Radical, I've been convinced that this was God-sent. Already, reading Radical has changed my life. But I'll write about that next week. This chapter had different revelations. The biggest was how dangerously off-track my theology has become. See I have grown up a Christian in Canada. Although I live in a very multicultural city, there are plenty of churches and Christians around. We're not a Christian nation, but many of our forefathers were believers which shaped our country. Yeah, Christianity is mocked occasionally as being old-fashioned or too judgemental, but persecution isn't a big deal here. My country, especially the region I live in, is prosperous. Although there are problems, the majority of the poor have a roof over their head, food on the table, and access to schools, medicine and doctors. Life is pretty good here. It's not perfect, but as far as places to live, Canada is amazing. I am so blessed to live here.
And that's the problem. Because somehow my theology went from being blessed to being entitled. Somehow all those passages about being hated because I follow Christ, losing my family and friends or enduring hardship just didn't register. Deep down I believed that if I obeyed Christ, my life would be sunshine and roses. I'm sure part of this comes from growing up in a safe, prosperous nation and some comes from a Christian culture that focusses on the blessings of Christ. Even when the cost of following Christ is preached it doesn't add up with our Christian role models that enjoy both financial success and fame. Maybe our cost of following God is just that I go to church instead of sleeping in on Sunday mornings. And in my complacency, that seems like a high cost indeed. Nothing at all like those who follow Christ knowing that they may die and soon.
Over a year ago, I prayed some dangerous prayers. I asked God to change me. When I wrote that prayer, I was in awe of the amazing work God had done in my life and I was completely sold out to Him. It's probably a good thing I didn't realize what would happen next. God asked me to do something, and I obeyed. With a heart full of trust and love, I did what God asked, confident that nothing but good would come of it. After all, that's what happens when we obey right? God just pours out the blessings. I was not at all prepared for what happened. Within the next month, I was kicked out of ministry, unfriended by a very close friend who was also my mentor and socially ostracized. My world and my theology were turned upside down. As the months passed, God asked us to step out in faith. We continued to obey, often with unexpected and unpleasant results. I was angry at God. Where were the blessings of obedience?
Then I read Radical. I realized how off-base my theology was, how I had turned a God of power and holiness into a vending machine. I obey, He blesses. This is not the God of the Bible. Have you read what happened to the prophets? I have. I guess I just....forgot.
This then is my confession. I confess that I turned God into something comfortable and predictable. I confess that I have been angry with God. I confess that my faith is too comfortable, too easy. I am willing to obey, but not willing to endure hardship for His name's sake. This then is my goal: to count the cost and follow Him, willing to give up friends, family, prestige, reputation and even my life for the privilege of being His.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Big Hairy Audacious Goals
Last summer, my church did a series entitled "Wild Goose Chase". It's a book about living abandoned to the Holy Spirit. At one point, we were encouraged to set a BHAG or a Big Hairy Audacious Goal, to choose something so huge, so beyond us that it could only be accomplished by God. Around the same time, I turned 28. This was significant because I have struggled being suicidal since I was eight years old. That's 20 years or two full decades of bondage! Suddenly it struck me that this would be my BHAG. Before God and my small group, I declared that this year would be the end of my bondage. This wasn't a declaration that I made lightly or without a plan. I was plugged into a 12 step program designed to bring freedom from bondage and sin. This would be a year of victory and a freedom, I just knew it.
And then, disaster struck. I followed God's leading, spoke out about some wrongdoing within the church, and was punished. My mentor spoke hateful, hurtful words and cut off our relationship. Friends within the church cut off contact and ostracized me. That was hard, but I knew that God was with me. Three weeks after the initial explosion, my leadership at the recovery program called me and kicked me out. They were concerned about my healing and thought I would be better off elsewhere. After all, they didn't want me to lead anyone else astray. It was a bitter moment.
The year that I thought would be a year of victory became a year of questioning. I stopped reading my Bible and praying because I couldn't trust God anymore. I didn't trust anyone really, not even my husband. My anxiety attacks became worse, especially attending church, but God said I needed to keep going, so I did. I became deeply suicidal. After confiding that I found myself pulling away from all social contact, my mother suggested that perhaps I had Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder(PTSD). Rather than relieving my stress because of a potential diagnosis that made sense, that made me angrier with God. Why did I get punished for being obedient? I just want to be a good mom and wife. Having PTSD turns one into a walking time-bomb. How does this bring healing? Does God hate me? Am I amusing God? Does He laugh at my obedience with the angels and label me a sucker? I had and still have a lot of questions.
The seasons came and went, and my birthday rolled around again. In the month leading up to my birthday, I remembered my BHAG. The questions came up again, still without any answers. Then crisis hit. Our pastor announced he was leaving. He and his wife had walked alongside us through our difficult situation. When everyone else had abandoned or disbelieved us, they hadn't. Now they were leaving. What would we do? Would we stay at church? We work with a missions organization that requires its workers to be commissioned by their church. How would this affect Steve's job? After hearing the news at church, Steve and I walked through the day in a fog, crying and praying together. If this stress wasn't enough, my husband's great aunt began the final stage of her journey to heaven. We dropped everything and drove a couple of hours to say goodbye. The next night while we were finishing up a hard meeting with our pastor and another couple, Steve's phone rang. Initially I thought it was his parents letting us know that his great-aunt had passed. Instead it was more crisis. A close family member was near death, which in turn set off a greater crisis within our close family. We seemed caught in a hurricane. Where was God? Why were we being tested beyond what we could bear?
Later that evening, the dam burst. I had a massive freak-out, feeling so abandoned and rejected by God. If God loves me, then where is He? I became so upset that I almost passed out. It was pretty scary. Both Steve and I were freaked out. I felt worse than ever. Why can't I be stable like everybody else? Why do I get upset? Why can't I just trust God like Steve does? Why am I so emotional? And then I realized something big, something so significant that I couldn't help but rejoice. During that freak-out, when I was probably the most upset I've ever been in my life, I wasn't suicidal!!!! Somehow, during that hard year of questioning, God healed me. I've been hesitant to announce my healing, to rejoice just in case I'm not really better. But then two weeks later, we had another tough meeting with church leaders that left me very upset. Later, I melted down and once again, didn't become suicidal. Praise God!
I don't know how God healed me. I don't understand why this hard year was necessary. True, I was forced to make some choices, to choose life even when all felt dark, but was that what was needed? I don't know. I don't have good answers. All I know is that God did a great powerful miraculous work in my life when I thought it was impossible. There is still much more healing that needs to happen both within me and my church family. I'm clinging to the promise that nothing is impossible with God and backing that up with the very real work He has done in my life. I don't know how to end this, so I'm going to steal these words from an old hymn: To God be the glory, great things He has done!
And then, disaster struck. I followed God's leading, spoke out about some wrongdoing within the church, and was punished. My mentor spoke hateful, hurtful words and cut off our relationship. Friends within the church cut off contact and ostracized me. That was hard, but I knew that God was with me. Three weeks after the initial explosion, my leadership at the recovery program called me and kicked me out. They were concerned about my healing and thought I would be better off elsewhere. After all, they didn't want me to lead anyone else astray. It was a bitter moment.
The year that I thought would be a year of victory became a year of questioning. I stopped reading my Bible and praying because I couldn't trust God anymore. I didn't trust anyone really, not even my husband. My anxiety attacks became worse, especially attending church, but God said I needed to keep going, so I did. I became deeply suicidal. After confiding that I found myself pulling away from all social contact, my mother suggested that perhaps I had Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder(PTSD). Rather than relieving my stress because of a potential diagnosis that made sense, that made me angrier with God. Why did I get punished for being obedient? I just want to be a good mom and wife. Having PTSD turns one into a walking time-bomb. How does this bring healing? Does God hate me? Am I amusing God? Does He laugh at my obedience with the angels and label me a sucker? I had and still have a lot of questions.
The seasons came and went, and my birthday rolled around again. In the month leading up to my birthday, I remembered my BHAG. The questions came up again, still without any answers. Then crisis hit. Our pastor announced he was leaving. He and his wife had walked alongside us through our difficult situation. When everyone else had abandoned or disbelieved us, they hadn't. Now they were leaving. What would we do? Would we stay at church? We work with a missions organization that requires its workers to be commissioned by their church. How would this affect Steve's job? After hearing the news at church, Steve and I walked through the day in a fog, crying and praying together. If this stress wasn't enough, my husband's great aunt began the final stage of her journey to heaven. We dropped everything and drove a couple of hours to say goodbye. The next night while we were finishing up a hard meeting with our pastor and another couple, Steve's phone rang. Initially I thought it was his parents letting us know that his great-aunt had passed. Instead it was more crisis. A close family member was near death, which in turn set off a greater crisis within our close family. We seemed caught in a hurricane. Where was God? Why were we being tested beyond what we could bear?
Later that evening, the dam burst. I had a massive freak-out, feeling so abandoned and rejected by God. If God loves me, then where is He? I became so upset that I almost passed out. It was pretty scary. Both Steve and I were freaked out. I felt worse than ever. Why can't I be stable like everybody else? Why do I get upset? Why can't I just trust God like Steve does? Why am I so emotional? And then I realized something big, something so significant that I couldn't help but rejoice. During that freak-out, when I was probably the most upset I've ever been in my life, I wasn't suicidal!!!! Somehow, during that hard year of questioning, God healed me. I've been hesitant to announce my healing, to rejoice just in case I'm not really better. But then two weeks later, we had another tough meeting with church leaders that left me very upset. Later, I melted down and once again, didn't become suicidal. Praise God!
I don't know how God healed me. I don't understand why this hard year was necessary. True, I was forced to make some choices, to choose life even when all felt dark, but was that what was needed? I don't know. I don't have good answers. All I know is that God did a great powerful miraculous work in my life when I thought it was impossible. There is still much more healing that needs to happen both within me and my church family. I'm clinging to the promise that nothing is impossible with God and backing that up with the very real work He has done in my life. I don't know how to end this, so I'm going to steal these words from an old hymn: To God be the glory, great things He has done!
Introduction
My name is Grace. I'm a follower of Christ, a wife, and a mother of three beautiful, spirited children. I'm passionate about eating local, feeding the hungry, breastfeeding and birth(I'm working on my doula certification), building and living in community and following Christ. But writing it out like that sounds so...fake. Because really I'm just a girl, not even thirty, who is pretty broken and tries to find Chist in the middle of that. That's where this blog comes in. I have another blog, started in the middle of a very hard year. While sweeping my floor, I was challenged to look for God's goodness in midst of my crazy full life. On that blog, I try to write every day as a way to keep myself focussed on the good. My mom reads it and she calls when I haven't posted to ask why. Nothing like moms to keep one accountable, even online. :)
This blog comes out of something different. For most of my life, even as a Christian, I struggled with addiction, depression and suicidal thoughts. The church I grew up in was very legalistic and I began to believe that I wasn't good enough for God. I read my Bible and prayed, but still remained broken. Those areas of brokenness were buried pretty deep beneath the surface. Most of the people in my life labelled me a good little Christian girl, but I knew better. Eventually I walked away from the Church for about a year and a half. And in that walking away, God did something amazing. Through a crisis pregnancy, He stripped away all of my self-deception and began a journey of healing that is nothing short of miraculous. Thankfully, He's still not done.
After my daughter was born, I joined a church plant that held values of transparency, vulnerability, and restoration. Coming out of such intense self-deception, this was life-giving for me. Finally a church that accepted and loved broken people! But we are all broken, and it's hard to love others where they are when we walk away from the Source to do it on our own. Last year that resulted in my mentor speaking hurtful words to me and social ostracism from the church. I wanted to revert to my nice comfortable masks, but I knew that way leads to spiritual death. Still, it just hurt too much!
Then my friend wrote a beautiful post about being real. She got me thinking and I responded to her Facebook post which then ended up in her post. Then I wrote about it on my happy blog. Thus both the title and the concept behind this blog. This is where I hope to be honest about my struggles as I try to work out my salvation with fear and trembling. This will also be where I write my thoughts on the Radical Read-along. Anyhoo, be welcomed to my bare-souled journey and please feel free to walk along with me. Much love, gracie:)
This blog comes out of something different. For most of my life, even as a Christian, I struggled with addiction, depression and suicidal thoughts. The church I grew up in was very legalistic and I began to believe that I wasn't good enough for God. I read my Bible and prayed, but still remained broken. Those areas of brokenness were buried pretty deep beneath the surface. Most of the people in my life labelled me a good little Christian girl, but I knew better. Eventually I walked away from the Church for about a year and a half. And in that walking away, God did something amazing. Through a crisis pregnancy, He stripped away all of my self-deception and began a journey of healing that is nothing short of miraculous. Thankfully, He's still not done.
After my daughter was born, I joined a church plant that held values of transparency, vulnerability, and restoration. Coming out of such intense self-deception, this was life-giving for me. Finally a church that accepted and loved broken people! But we are all broken, and it's hard to love others where they are when we walk away from the Source to do it on our own. Last year that resulted in my mentor speaking hurtful words to me and social ostracism from the church. I wanted to revert to my nice comfortable masks, but I knew that way leads to spiritual death. Still, it just hurt too much!
Then my friend wrote a beautiful post about being real. She got me thinking and I responded to her Facebook post which then ended up in her post. Then I wrote about it on my happy blog. Thus both the title and the concept behind this blog. This is where I hope to be honest about my struggles as I try to work out my salvation with fear and trembling. This will also be where I write my thoughts on the Radical Read-along. Anyhoo, be welcomed to my bare-souled journey and please feel free to walk along with me. Much love, gracie:)
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