Stripped Away

 This was supposed to be written for the Secret Name read-along, but I was busy. Or grumpy.  Or something...I can't remember.  I thought about writing though.  Really.  Maybe my arm was hurting.  I can't remember anymore.  What I'm about to write comes more from Marla's questions than it does from my reflections on the book.

 I may have mentioned before that the church I grew up in was very legalistic.  There were some very good things that I took away from there, but understanding grace was not one of them.  Instead, even though I knew my Scripture, I came to believe that having a relationship with God required a lot of work on my part.  My church did not believe that Christians could be depressed.  Instead it was taught that if a "believer" was struggling with depression, he or she was not truly walking with God.  Instead of medication or counselling, the depressed individual needed to pray more, read their Bible more and attend more church services.  Our church had six services throughout the week. The same philosophy held true for any areas of weakness.  If a believer struggled, it was because he or she wasn't trying hard enough.  Hearing this was hard for me as I struggled with addiction and depression from a very young age.

 To be honest about my struggles would have meant rejection.  I wouldn't have necessarily been able to communicate about them effectively as it took me many years to learn the words for what I was experiencing.  But I knew I didn't measure up, that my life needed work.  I both loved and feared my pastors, so when they said to try harder, I did.  I began to pray through a huge list every night before I went to bed and read through my Bible multiple times.  I attended as many services as I could during the week, but still I struggled.  During my teen years, I tried to be as Godly as I possibly could and yet always always always fell short.  I hated myself, believing that I was just too bad for God.  The messages I received from the authority figures in my life didn't help matters. Eventually I walked away from God because I was just too bad for salvation.

 I didn't want to walk away.  My crisis of faith wasn't one of belief for I had personally known who God was from a very early age.  I knew God, knew that He was real.  But I began to believe that there was something deeply flawed in me, that God had made a huge mistake when I was formed.  It wasn't Him, it was me.

 So I walked away and longed for God, but couldn't really come back.  I'd try periodically, but something would happen.  I finally gave my boyfriend an ultimatum that it was either me or drugs and alcohol.  I couldn't live this far from God, it was destroying me.  He chose drugs, alcohol and partying instead of me.  But he still loved me and we couldn't bear to be apart so even though we weren't dating anymore and I was trying to follow God again we kept sleeping together.  I hated myself even more because I just couldn't get it right.  Couldn't stop sinning, couldn't follow God properly enough, just kept failing.

 And then right before my 21st birthday, I got pregnant.  I found out shortly after my birthday.  I was terrified.  My parents were horrified, my family angered.  It was a horrible time.  During that time, God allowed all I held dear to be stripped away.   My relationship with my not-exactly boyfriend further disintegrated as he became aggressively abusive and hostile.  When I was eight and a half months pregnant, he left me for someone else.  I plunged into the depths of despair.  Being at home was horrible.  My parents were so hurt and angry with me, my sister claimed that I had ruined her life.  After a violent encounter at home, I grabbed what little of my possessions I could carry and left.   During that evening, I lost my home and my best friend from childhood( another long crazy story).  Thankfully, the grandmother that I had been distant from took me in for the duration of my pregnancy.  Without her intervention, I would have been homeless.  Shortly after this, I lost my ability to walk.  So there I was, without my boyfriend, my family, my best friend or my job.  Everything had been stripped away.

 I turned to the only place I could turn: to God.  I began to pray constantly.  I began to devour my Bible. One of the pastors at the church my parents had been attending came alongside me.  When I tried to commit suicide, he dragged me on the 20s retreat.  There two couples befriended me and came alongside me in a big way.  They loved on me, offering no condemnation, but plenty of prayer and good examples.  For the first time in a long time, I was able to just be me.  I couldn't hide my sin anymore, it was right there for all to see.  By my baby bump, I was marked a sinner. During that time of shame and brokenness revealed,  God restored me.  I read in Romans that it is by our faith that we are made right with God.  That verse hit me.  Could it really be that easy?  All I have to do is believe?  And that was it. It was that easy.   After all that time of striving, freedom was there in the resting, the believing, in the simple act of following.

 It took what felt like years, but God changed me.  He freed me from the chains of addiction and although depression will probably stick with me for the rest of my life, I have experienced much healing and grace in that area as well.  There have been more trials, more stripping away and rediscovering God, but my relationship and understanding of God will never be the same.  For that I am so thankful that God allowed me to walk through the fire.

 Shortly after Aris was born, I met a wonderful man.  He fell in love with my little one first.  He became a good friend, one that understood grace too.  Just by being in my life, he challenged me to be better.  I followed God even more passionately, determined not to fall back into my sin because I wanted to be better for  him.  After a brief courtship, we married just after Aris'  first birthday.  After six and a half years of marriage, I praise God for him even more than I did in the beginning.  It hasn't been easy, but the hard times have served to further develop our character and love for each other.

 I regret the pain that I caused myself and my family.  Sin destroys.  But somehow this crazy wonderful God of ours never ever lets go and He redeems all things.  Absolute craziness!  My eyes are burning with tears because I am so so so thankful for God's amazing grace and mercy that He has showered on me, a sinner.

Who Am I?

 Who am I? This question has haunted and challenged me for many years, quite possibly as long as I can remember.  There are many answers to this question, some positive, others not so much.  Unfortunately, the one that comes to mind first is "Failure".  I've been pondering this question and the concept of names(birth, given and secret) over the holidays when I started reading Kary Oberbrunner's book Your Secret Name.  Marla chose this book for her winter readalong, which I have decided to participate in once again.  This is actually the second week of her readalong, but my arm hurt too much to type last week as I broke my arm over the holidays.  So here I am now, attempting to process the many ideas mentioned in YSN.  We're reading chapters 3 and 4 this week.

 So who am I?  I have a hard time answering that question.  I could respond with the things that I am passionate about, but then I feel like a fake.  I'm not yet a doula as I'm still working on my certification.  Although I'm attending births and seeing clients, I'm not officially a doula.  I'm scared to claim a name that isn't rightfully mine.  Technically we're missionaries, but I haven't been through training because I married in and we live in my hometown.  As a stay-at-home mom, I don't have an official missionary-type task, I just talk to people. Mommy is a title that I can definitely claim, but I doubt that my efforts are good enough.  There are an awful lot of mothers that do a much better job than me.

 As a child, I absorbed the given name of "Not good enough".  So I tried very hard, quickly earning the family title of "Responsible One".  But I soon learned that "Responsible Child" is short for "One who is in Trouble Whenever Anything Goes Wrong".  I really didn't like that name.  Names like "Pretty", "Talented", "Funny" and "Smart" were names I aspired to, but my sister scooped up those titles and didn't let go.  I tried desperately to be noticed, to be special, but that didn't work either.  I tried for attention-getting names like "Anorexic", but my parents didn't notice when I stopped eating for 6 weeks. Eventually I lost heart, believing that "Not good enough" was my God-given name too.  That's when I started trying on "Bad Girl".  But "Bad Girl" didn't fit right either, although the process of trying it on brought significant and long-term consequences.  Although that time is a significant piece of my story, I feel uncomfortable using the words "Bad Girl" because I was more of a wannabe.  It was like wearing clothing outside of my comfort zone, that even though I looked good, I felt like everyone who looked at me could tell I was a fake or trying too hard.  Being fake sucks.

 This concept of a secret name, a new name, a God-given name excites me.  I long to be special.  The idea of having a special identity, one that is set apart, created for me before I was formed in the womb seems too good to be true.  I want to have a good name, one that glorifies God.  But almost more that than, I want it to be true.  Not something fake or assumed, not something that I have to strive for, but something that fits just right like my favourite pair of jeans and SuperFriends t-shirt.    I am both cautiously optimistic and desperately hoping to find my secret name and shed the old names that cling like sand to wet feet.  

Radical Change?

 Today I'm writing my post for the final chapter of Radical.  Wow...I can't believe we're done already.

 So I'm going to start by being very very honest.  When I read this chapter, I don't feel very radical.  In fact, I really don't want to be very radical. Some of the changes suggested just don't seem practical for me.  However, I have made some of the changes suggested.   I've started reading my Bible with intention of reading it all in one year.  Rather than follow a plan, I've decided to read my Bible during bathroom breaks.  So far I've made it to Numbers.  Although I've done this several times before, it's been awhile since I've read through the Old Testament.  There's a lot to ponder there.

 Praying for the world intrigues me.  After finishing up Radical, I signed up to get the Unreached Peoples emails.  Each day, I receive an email introducing me to a different unreached people group and suggesting ways to pray for them.  Today while reading Radical, I was reminded to pray that God would raise up workers to share the Gospel with the people groups that I'm praying for.  I'm also praying for my community around me.  As I see different people groups, I try to pray both that the individual will come to know Christ and that the people group will as well.  Today I started praying for the Russian-Israeli population in Canada as members of that group are increasingly coming to comprise my social circle.

 Sacrificing my money for a specific purpose is something that I want to do, but not yet.  See, my best friend who lives far away just had a baby.  So I'm saving my very limited personal spending money up for a plane ticket to visit her.  My husband and I do give, but we have very little extra income.  This is where I run into trouble with the Radical experiment, because although I do want to sacrifice for a specific purpose, I also really want to go visit my dear friend and her sweet baby.  Is it wrong to wait to begin this step?

 Up next is another troublesome challenge.  Platt encourages us to spend our time in another context.  As I mentioned previously, I would love to go overseas.  But so far God has closed those doors.   For this step, I guess I will have to rest knowing that if God allows me to serve in another context, I will gladly go.  Is that enough?

 I'm finding this really frustrating because I would love to say wholeheartedly that I'm in.  But for a variety of reasons, I can't.  Or won't.  I'm not entirely sure if I'm just being too selfish or if I have good reasons for not fully committing to the experiment.  In the fifth and final step, we are challenged to become a member of a multiplying faith community.  Last year, this wouldn't have been a problem.  After a very challenging year, my husband and I made the difficult decision to leave our church.  It had ceased to be a safe and healthy place for our family.  We had been hoping to return, but at this point I'm giving up on that hope.  With that in mind, becoming a member of a multiplying faith community seems almost impossible.  We are attending a new church, but unlike the previous church, it isn't in our neighbourhood which is important to us. Many of those we wish to reach don't have vehicles and public transportation doesn't run often on Sunday mornings.  Our goal is to attend a church that those we minister to can easily attend. With this goal in mind, we most likely won't be staying longterm at the church we are currently attending, even though we really like it.  We are still involved in a small group at our previous church though.

 This is hard.  It's hard to write this post.  I want to be Radical, I really really do. I want to live differently, to be sold-out for Christ, to impact my community and my world for Christ.  But I often wonder if this is possible, if God can possibly use me to make an impact.  I may not be able to do all of the components of the Radical experiment right now, but I'm going to make accomplishing all of them my goal, even if they don't happen concurrently.  It will be interesting to see what this experiment accomplishes.  I'm frustrated that I can't do all of these things right now, but reading Radical has definitely started a change in me.

Dying to Self

 Once again, I'm joining with Marla for chapter 8 of the Radical Read-along.  Chapter 8 is entitled "Living When Dying is Gain: The risk and reward of the radical life."  This may be a very brief post as my hand is very sore and numb tonight.

 Living when dying is gain.  Huh.  Those are some very big words, but not ones I like,  although this is a concept that I can currently grasp well.  Lately, death looks much better than life.  But this sentiment comes more from a desire to escape current struggles than it does from meditation on being finally in God's presence, in our forever home.  Far too often, this life, with its worldly comforts,  is where I want to stay.

 Dr. Platt's main focus was on those who left everything, sacrificed their comforts, safety and in some cases their lives for the greater glory of God.  I certainly don't want to make light of their sacrifices, but sometimes leaving it all and experiencing physical death seems, I don't know, easier than walking through other forms of dying for Christ.  Dying to self can be much harder when it means remaining in the culture, in the same social circles, but choosing a life that leads to ostracism. After facing rejection and ridicule by friends, family and the Church, being eaten by cannibals sounds appealing.  At least it would be over much quicker.

 Much to my dismay, last autumn, I discovered what obedience to God could cost me.  I obeyed and lost much.  I lost my reputation, my ministry, my friends, my health and now my church.  Sometimes I wonder if I've lost my sanity too.  During this time, obedience seems far too costly.  But what if I look at this through the filter of Jim Elliot's quote that he is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose? Then my journey takes on a different hue.  Losing all of these things, especially my reputation and friends has been immensely difficult.  But I would much rather have lost all this then stand before the Father and be revealed disobedient.

 Recently I have been angry with God.  I've been angry over the cost of discipleship and obedience.  When I'm looking the right way, I see what God is doing through this both in my life and in the lives of others.  Without the events of last fall, I would not have started writing my blogs.  Both the outlet and the community I've found here have been blessings.  Without the loss of my friendships and church community, I wouldn't have started building deep friendships within my neighbourhood and school community.  These have both been a blessing and my mission ground.  As of yet, no one has come to Christ but we have planted seeds which we continue to water and search for more fertile ground in which to sow more seeds.  My marriage has grown significantly during this time of trial, as have several of my remaining friendships.  I have a lot more understanding of what it means to suffer.

 But there are other times when I don't see the rainbow, just the storm.  When I view my current struggles through the lenses of our cultural Christianity, I wonder why God is rejecting me.  In that respect, this chapter has been a much needed wake-up call.  Contrary to the North American version of Christianity, this isn't for wimps.  We aren't called to be blessed and coddled, to be rewarded materially whenever we obey.  We are called to a war, where people die and are injured as they seek to liberate captives and destroy strongholds.  I don't want to be a solider that quits, that whines over the realities of war and ends up either destroyed, taken captive or fighting for the other side.  Instead I'd much rather live a life of crazy obedience to my Commanding Officer, one that may earn me reprimands but will ultimately bring glory to Him.   Will my name ever end up on a list of heroes of the faith?  I doubt it.  But I hope to live a life of such obedience that when I finally do die, I can stand before the Throne knowing that I did not hold back, I did not waver, but that I lived a life that brought Him glory.

 I guess this means I have to quit whining. :)

Hell Bound

 Once again, I'm joining with Marla for the Radical Read-along. This week we're reading Chapter 7.

 Unless they know Jesus, everyone around us is going to hell.  Although blunt, this statement pretty much sums up chapter 7.  This isn't anything new to me, but it certainly isn't something I want to think about.  Especially when it means that the people around me that I cherish may be doomed for eternity.  As I have several close relatives that aren't following Christ, this isn't something I like to dwell on.

 In early posts, I've mentioned my desire to see my entire school community come to know Christ.  This is partially because of this chapter.  It's been hard to think that many of my beautiful friends are eternally damned.  I can't deal with that.  In the past, I've just not dwelt on it.  But after reading this chapter, I was challenged.

 I'm not handing out tracks, or standing on the corner with a megaphone.  But I am being a lot more intentional, both in my prayers and my conversation.  I don't typically speak freely about my faith.  It just isn't always acceptable.  Sometimes admitting I'm a Christian is a good way to end a conversation.  But recently, especially after this chapter, I'm a lot more open about my faith.  I'm not pushy, just genuine.  I don't choose my words quite as carefully as I used to.  And I'm ashamed to admit that I had stopped praying for people's salvation.  I'm not sure why, I just had.  I've started praying again, sometimes broadly, sometimes more specifically, but always for the salvation of those around me, sometimes even for strangers.  Strangely, I'm also being a lot more open about my struggles, especially how my faith ties into them.  I'm not selling a dream, but a hard faith, one that is well worth the cost.

 Beyond praying and more open conversation, I'm also being more intentional.  We are setting aside one evening a week for relational evangelism.  At this point, this consists mostly of building relationships. As time progresses, we hope to be able to share our faith and lead those around us to Christ.  Tomorrow my daughter's teacher will be coming for dinner. We went to high school together and could have been good friends, but, to our mutual regret, were too defined and confined by our labels.  My house may not be clean, and dinner may end up being from Pizza Pizza, but I am committed to building a relationship with this lovely woman so that she and her partner may know Christ.  I doubt it will happen overnight, but I want to be intentional in building relationships, praying and sharing Christ so that she and many others will worship before the Lamb when Time has run its course.


I have to apologize for this post.  My head is filled by thoughts of assault rifles and refugees.

Sacrifice not Indulgence

 After last week's break, I'm joining again with Marla for the Radical Read-along.  This week we're focussing on chapter 6 "How much is enough?: American wealth and a world of poverty".

 Once again, this week's chapter has left me unsure of how to respond.  This isn't that I'm being convicted, but because we've already chosen to live a life of sacrifice. Where do I go from there?  How much is enough?

 Recently, I learned that I am in the top 1% of the wealthiest people in the world.  Granted, my wealth doesn't look like much compared to the great wealth of others, but this statistic shook me.  In my nation, I live just a short step above the poverty line. It wasn't that many years ago that we were below the poverty line, which is also where I grew up.  If my poverty is in fact riches, what then does the rest of the world look like?

 Around the same time, I was spending a lot of time reading James.  The fifth chapter of James in particular speaks quite harshly to the rich.  Verse four jumped out at me:

  For listen! Hear the cries of the field workers whom you have cheated of their pay.  The wages you held back cry out against you. The cries of those who harvest your fields have reached the ears of the Lord of Heaven's Armies." (James 5:4 NLT)

 One of the reasons I enjoy such a nice lifestyle is that many of my luxuries, including food, are purchased at unreasonably low prices.  Many farmers are not paid fair wages.  To keep our food cosmetically appealing as well as hardy, many chemicals are applied to this food.  Pesticides and the like didn't used to bother me.  Until I learned about the appallingly high rate of cancer and other diseases among farmers that use pesticides.  My new knowledge combined with this scripture to make a life change.

 Over the last couple of growing seasons, my family has been dabbling in eating local and organic.  We've joined a CSA as well as local foods buying club.  Although this food tastes a lot better, it's still very expensive and we're still relatively poor.  Even though I knew I could purchase local organic flour, I chose to buy the much less expensive grocery store flour.  My heart was leaning towards local foods, but I was determined to be a responsible shopper.  Until I read this verse.  I was convicted.

 I was part of the problem.  I had alternatives, I knew better, but still thought that this was all about me.  I didn't like this new revelation.  I felt convicted to spend the extra money on local flour and meat, but didn't want to obey.  What would my husband say?  What about our very tight food budget?  I decided to be cute and asked God to raise our support.  Instead we lost a supporter. What was God trying to say?

 I soon decided that God didn't want my maybes.  He didn't want my "if we can afford it"s.  He wanted my obedience.  I bought the expensive flour.  I bought the pricey local hormone, drug-free meat from a farmer who needs the income.  I bought local produce at fair prices, not cheap ones.  I have a long way to go on that one, but it's fun insisting on paying extra because I know their goods are worth more.  We sacrificed.  We eat less meat and are working on making what meat we eat go a lot further.  We've drastically cut back on our purchase of junk food and other prepared or packaged foods.

 This isn't a final solution.  We've identified one area that needs work and are steadily working on eating in a much healthier, sustainable, responsible manner.   But there are still a lot of people who need food, shelter, medicine and Jesus.  I don't know where God is going to lead us next or where other blindspots are in my faith-walk.  But whatever the cost, wherever the call, I really really really want to obey God and live a life of sacrifice not indulgence.

Friendship

 This post has been on my heart for quite awhile.  This morning while I was mulling over it once again, the phrase "friends don't let friends...." popped into my head.  Later I logged onto Facebook to find that a friend had posted an article on the sale of personal information by third party applications.  My friend then commented "Friends don't let friends use Facebook/Farmville".  I found that amusing and somewhat eerily appropriate.

 Our culture perceives friends to be supportive, encouraging individuals, ones that can speak into our lives. In Proverbs it says that as iron sharpens iron, so friends sharpen friends.  Friends are not just those people that we have a great time with, but also those that challenge us to be better people.  They can be the ones that warn us of potential danger resulting from our decisions.  And they can also be the people who love us as God does, unconditionally.

 However, in the last several years I've noticed a pattern emerge.  Perhaps this is just common in the circles I'm in, but it disturbs me.  Perhaps this has to do with our culture of acceptance and acknowledgement that we are all different.  Instead of being the friends that challenge, we have become the friends that accept.  Yes, unconditional love and acceptance are wonderful, but not at the cost of watering down truth.  Instead of asking our friends if their decision is wise, we bite our tongues, paste a smile on and congratulate them.  Why?  Because in many cases, we don't want to hurt their feelings or ruin the friendship.

 This feel-good friendship can be bad enough when applied to decisions.  When it concerns wrongdoing on the part of our friends, the impact is disastrous.  Perhaps you've seen this happen.  Someone hurts someone else.  Perhaps it was intentional, perhaps not.  Regardless of the intent, a person is left hurting.  This doesn't just affect the individual but the surrounding community.  Perhaps a ministry leader spoke unkindly out of haste or personal hurt.  When those in the community, perhaps close friends, learn of their friend's wound I have noticed an interesting phenomenon.  Many of these friends cannot believe or accept that the other friend would do such a thing.  Rather than choosing to love their friend/ministry leader while acknowledging that he or she has made a mistake, they rebuke the other person for being hurt.   Often friendships are ended, a person is silenced or even cast out from the community because we cannot acknowledging that our friends and leaders have made mistakes.

 My brothers and sisters, this should not be!  Friendship should not mean a refusal to accept that our friends do the wrong things.  Friendship should hopefully be deep enough that we can love our friends even when they make mistakes.  Personally, I want my friends to be able to confront me when I'm making mistakes and behaving badly.  Yes, I want them to love me even when I screw up, but I also expect them to gently rebuke me as needed.

 I am very blessed to have a best friend who does this.  We have been friends since our first year of high school.  She loves me very much even when I do things she doesn't agree with.  Sometimes our conversations are uncomfortable because she refuses to agree with me just because.  Instead she challenges my thinking and sometimes my decisions.  She affirms me while acknowledging my mistakes and struggles.  This isn't a feel-good friendship, but one in which I am continually being sharpened.  One of the biggest blessings of this type of friendship is that I know she isn't saying one thing to my face and another to my back.

 Although I can identify a problem, it's harder to come up with a solution.  How does one fix something so deep rooted?  For me, I have determined to speak truth.  Part of this has been learning to control my own tongue in conversation and then challenge my friends to do the same. Together we are breaking the hold gossip has had on our conversations.  With other friends, my challenge has been to gently remind them of the truth.  Sometimes it is easier to bash our family members, especially husbands and children, than it is to focus on our behaviour.  I have also chosen to be open about my struggles as a wife and mother, especially when I fail.  Not only do I want true friends, I also want to be one.  That means being honest and held accountable even as I do the same in turn.

 What does being a good friend mean to you?