Sometimes I feel like I'm drowning. The waves of life crash over me and all I can do is bob helplessly, trying to keep my nose above water. There have been moments recently, where I seem to grasp for breath spiritually, wondering if this is the wave I won't bounce back from.
The waves started coming, albeit mildly, in the spring. Normally I spend my time with God outside during the warmer months. I feel closer to Him, better able to see Him in the green-gold of the grass, the whispering of the trees and the crazy antics of the squirrels. Sitting outside also insulates me from the craziness of what's happening in my house. It's a bit of peace in a loud, chaotic house. (I love my loud, chaotic family. It's just not that conducive to hearing God).
Somehow it didn't quite work out that way. My journal, an essential for my quiet time, disappeared. I still haven't found it. Sometimes the neighbour children would come keep me company. I love them dearly, but it wasn't helpful when I was trying to read Scripture or pray. But the biggest deterrent was my new neighbour. You see, he smokes. Which is fine, but my lungs don't like smoke. When I'm exposed to it, I start coughing and choking. It's very embarrassing especially as I'm sure my neighbour thinks it's a political statement. I wish it didn't bother me, but it did. And every single time I went outside to spend time with God, out came my neighbour to have a smoke. Eventually I gave up even trying out of frustration. My peace eroded and I felt farther and farther from God.
At the same time, I've been increasingly aware that I'm part of the sandwich generation. Life is busy between being a doula as well as a wife and a mom to three kids. Add in my volunteer roles and well, it's even crazier. But now my mom has begun to need more help. I've been her support for over a decade now, but more recently her needs have increased. I love my parents and am glad that I'm able to help out, but it's hard. I've been feeling guilty about that too. I should just be happy that I have parents, that I can support them, that I'm a (mostly) SAHM. I should be thankful that my parents are nearby instead of in a different city, province, country or even continent. But instead I'm just struggling to survive.
Yesterday I sat at my computer and cried. It's too hard! I'm failing everyone! I'm not a good Christian, not a good daughter, not a good wife, mother or friend! I felt judged and unworthy.
Later in the day, my colleague called. As we chatted about life and work, he took a moment to stop and pray for me. It helped, especially knowing that I'm not alone in caring for children and parents. Later that evening another friend prayed with me, this time with a beautiful picture from God that completely encapsulated and reframed all that I've been going through. I came home with an easier heart.
As I sat to pray this morning, God showed me how much he loves me. I am like one of my children, fearful over every mistake, so scared that this will take away God's love for me. I have been so frustrated with this child, feeling as if I am failing at being a parent because of her fearful response to me, yet I act the same way toward God. My failures eat me up. I read devotions and listen to sermons and all I can see is how imperfect my faith is. I don't pray like so-and-so, I don't spend hours in my Bible like Mrs X, I'm too frustrated, angry, impatient, etc.
I love my child so deeply. I love them in spite of their mistakes, their disobedience, defiance and tantrums. I love them when they are helpful and sweet, and when they are acting like hellspawn. My love for my children never wavers. God loves me like that too. He loves me when I'm connected and doing great stuff, and he loves me in the desert place. He loves me even I scream and cry and tell my family I'm going on strike. He loves me when I serve, not with a joyful heart, but out of a dutiful one. He loves me always.
I know this is all over Scripture, that this is basic Christianity. But today, this has knocked my socks off. God loves me the same way I love my child. Just better. Wow. My heart is lighter, all condemnation is gone. Hallelujah!
Thursday, October 16, 2014
Wednesday, June 19, 2013
The Well
Once upon a time, there was a small stone cottage at the edge of a forest. A small family lived there, perfectly content as they had everything they needed. A stream ran nearby, filling their clearing with gentle music. A well provided sweet fresh water for their every need while their garden plot proved fertile, growing enough to eat, preserve and sell. The family spent their days working hard and their evenings resting content in a good day's labour. Life wasn't easy, but it was good. They were content.
One day, a traveller came to their door. As was their custom, the mother welcomed him in. She offered him a simple meal and something to drink. Being very proud of their sweet well water, she handed him a glass while praising its health benefits and delicious taste. Instead of receiving it well, her visitor reacted as if she had handed him a snake. He launched into a diatribe on how irresponsible drinking from a well was. He sniffed the water and gagged, as if she had handed him a glass of vomit. Gathering the rest of the family together, he marched them outside and proceeded to harangue the family until they too believed that the well was bad. Together, they proceeded to stop up the well so never again would anyone be subjected to such horrible water.
Shortly after, the stranger moved on. His task was done. The family was in shock, dismayed that they had been so foolish as to believe that their well was good. They shook their heads, cheeks bright with embarrassment as they remembered every time they had offered their water to strangers, neighbours and friends. How could they have been so stupid? Why didn't anyone tell them before? Had their village been laughing at them all these years?
The family began hauling their water from the nearby stream. It was hard, heavy work. The water from the stream didn't taste as good and in certain seasons, needed to be boiled and strained before drinking. Gone were the days of hauling up a dipper from the well for a quick drink. Sometimes the stream's flow dried up and water had to be rationed. The family that had always been so clean, now began to wear dirty clothes and stretch out washing days as to save on water. They drank more coffee and tea to hide the bitter taste of the water. Those happy content days soon became just a hazy memory.
Years passed. Years of hard, grinding toil. The boarded up well became a symbol of shame to the family. It stood as a monument to their bad judgement. How could they have recklessly endangered their friends and family? How could they have drank such filth and thought it good? Sometimes, when such feelings were strong, they added another layer to the boards covering the well. It stood, a wooden structure in the middle of the clearing, in the midst of an increasingly run down homestead.
One day another stranger came to visit. The family had little to share now, but they humbly offered him some tea or coffee. He asked for a glass of cold water. The mother, now old and stooped, explained that they only had boiled water and that it was bitter. He nodded, puzzled. "But I heard you had a well, of sweet sweet water. That's why I sought out your farm. Years ago my friend passed this way and you offered him some. He said in all his years, he's never had sweeter".
"You must be mistaken" said the father. "Yes, we had a well, but it wasn't sweet. It was dangerous and dirty. We boarded it up long ago to keep everyone safe".
"No, I'm sure it was here" said the traveller. He walked out and to everyone's amazement, he began to tear down the structure. It was hard, hot labour. At first, the family watched in shock. But soon, one of the boys began to help. He had fond memories of that well and had never really believed the stranger's words of disgust. Eventually, the walls were torn down and the well uncovered. The boy ran to fetch a bucket. In all the years of disuse, the well had not dried up. It hadn't soured or gone bad. As they pulled up the pail, the whole family smelt sweet clear water for the first time in years. How had they gone without it? Why had they allowed someone else to disparage their well and change their opinions? The family shook their heads, wondering how on earth they allowed a stranger to influence them so strongly. They drank deeply, rejoicing in the clear sweet goodness.
This is me. I have allowed others to influence my opinion of myself. My good gifts have been called bad, so I stopped using them. I locked them away, ashamed of my bad judgement. How dare I offer up something so flawed? Was everyone laughing at me? Now I come to realize that those words weren't true. I do have things to offer. I am seeking to bring those gifts back out into the open. It's a hard slow process, to tear down the lies that have defined my life for years.
One day, a traveller came to their door. As was their custom, the mother welcomed him in. She offered him a simple meal and something to drink. Being very proud of their sweet well water, she handed him a glass while praising its health benefits and delicious taste. Instead of receiving it well, her visitor reacted as if she had handed him a snake. He launched into a diatribe on how irresponsible drinking from a well was. He sniffed the water and gagged, as if she had handed him a glass of vomit. Gathering the rest of the family together, he marched them outside and proceeded to harangue the family until they too believed that the well was bad. Together, they proceeded to stop up the well so never again would anyone be subjected to such horrible water.
Shortly after, the stranger moved on. His task was done. The family was in shock, dismayed that they had been so foolish as to believe that their well was good. They shook their heads, cheeks bright with embarrassment as they remembered every time they had offered their water to strangers, neighbours and friends. How could they have been so stupid? Why didn't anyone tell them before? Had their village been laughing at them all these years?
The family began hauling their water from the nearby stream. It was hard, heavy work. The water from the stream didn't taste as good and in certain seasons, needed to be boiled and strained before drinking. Gone were the days of hauling up a dipper from the well for a quick drink. Sometimes the stream's flow dried up and water had to be rationed. The family that had always been so clean, now began to wear dirty clothes and stretch out washing days as to save on water. They drank more coffee and tea to hide the bitter taste of the water. Those happy content days soon became just a hazy memory.
Years passed. Years of hard, grinding toil. The boarded up well became a symbol of shame to the family. It stood as a monument to their bad judgement. How could they have recklessly endangered their friends and family? How could they have drank such filth and thought it good? Sometimes, when such feelings were strong, they added another layer to the boards covering the well. It stood, a wooden structure in the middle of the clearing, in the midst of an increasingly run down homestead.
One day another stranger came to visit. The family had little to share now, but they humbly offered him some tea or coffee. He asked for a glass of cold water. The mother, now old and stooped, explained that they only had boiled water and that it was bitter. He nodded, puzzled. "But I heard you had a well, of sweet sweet water. That's why I sought out your farm. Years ago my friend passed this way and you offered him some. He said in all his years, he's never had sweeter".
"You must be mistaken" said the father. "Yes, we had a well, but it wasn't sweet. It was dangerous and dirty. We boarded it up long ago to keep everyone safe".
"No, I'm sure it was here" said the traveller. He walked out and to everyone's amazement, he began to tear down the structure. It was hard, hot labour. At first, the family watched in shock. But soon, one of the boys began to help. He had fond memories of that well and had never really believed the stranger's words of disgust. Eventually, the walls were torn down and the well uncovered. The boy ran to fetch a bucket. In all the years of disuse, the well had not dried up. It hadn't soured or gone bad. As they pulled up the pail, the whole family smelt sweet clear water for the first time in years. How had they gone without it? Why had they allowed someone else to disparage their well and change their opinions? The family shook their heads, wondering how on earth they allowed a stranger to influence them so strongly. They drank deeply, rejoicing in the clear sweet goodness.
This is me. I have allowed others to influence my opinion of myself. My good gifts have been called bad, so I stopped using them. I locked them away, ashamed of my bad judgement. How dare I offer up something so flawed? Was everyone laughing at me? Now I come to realize that those words weren't true. I do have things to offer. I am seeking to bring those gifts back out into the open. It's a hard slow process, to tear down the lies that have defined my life for years.
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Faith
What is faith? I could quote some verses at you about what faith is and how powerful it is. Faith is the substance of things hoped for; the evidence of things unseen. A little tiny bit of faith moves mountains. Faith is what brings us into right relationship with God. Faith is believing in what we cannot see.
And yet for many of us, faith is a fence. It's a word that delineates all we believe in. It outlines what we can and cannot do, what we can and cannot think. It isolates us from a large portion of society while simultaneously making us family with people from every tribe and tongue. Faith shapes us, moulds us, defines us.
But what if faith is more than this?
For years I followed set paths. I grew up walking the path of Legalism. Being a Christian had some very clear expectations. If I didn't meet those standards, then I wasn't a Christian, or at least not a very good one. I tried very hard, reading through my Bible multiple times, spending large amounts of time in prayer. Yet Legalism didn't advance my faith, it just tore holes in it.
Then I discovered grace. I left Legalism behind without even a word of farewell. I started walking a new path, one of Intelligent Belief. I scorned my former behaviour and set about creating a new way to live. Being relevant and relational were key words on this path. As part of my church, I set goals to grow in my faith, to bring others to Christ. I walked confidently on this path and then watched everything I wanted and work for crumble.
I'll be honest. Walking away from my faith looked really good. Walking away from life had its appeal as well. How could God let me down? Didn't I have faith in Him? Didn't I trust Him? Wasn't I doing what He asked of me? For two years I wrestled with these thoughts.
I felt like I was walking through a jungle. The overgrowth was wild and ferocious, the critters even more so. Yes, the jungle is beautiful but it's also terrifying. Thankfully I had a map. As long as I stuck to the clearly delineated paths I would be okay. But the further I got into the jungle, the less sense my map made. I was confused and frustrated. This map was THE map for safe passage through. What was wrong with me that I couldn't understand it?
And just as I became overwhelmed with despair, a beautiful golden butterfly fluttered by. Bathed in a golden light, it waggled its wings at me. That's when I knew. I had to follow it. Dropping my map, I charged off into the jungle. My companions hollered after me, warning me of the dangers, beseeching me to come back. But I couldn't shake this compulsion, didn't want to shake it. Soon their voices faded into the background jungle noise.
The journey wasn't easy. Following the butterfly didn't guarantee a safe passage. I bore wounds from a thorn bush I fell into, scratches from an encounter with a jungle cat. But still I ran. And when I saw the clearing up ahead, I kept going. Even when I realised that the ambient sounds of the jungle were being drowned out by a new sound, I kept going. When my foot hit the edge of the cliff, I didn't hesitate or try to scramble backwards. Instead I lept into the abyss, knowing that wherever I was going, it would be good.
And this is what faith is. It isn't easy or predictable. It's a mad dash at times, a leap of faith. It's a chasing of the Wild Goose, a plunging into the unknown. This wild unknowing following isn't easy, it certainly isn't popular. And I really don't recommend it without wise people who can help you discern God's voice. But even as my life heads into territory where all I can do is trust God, I feel the safest and most secure that I have ever felt. For although hard, unexpected, unpleasant things have happened, I know that God has never let go of me. Instead He has led to me greener pastures, to stiller waters and He is restoring my soul.
So then what is faith?
Faith is unexpected. It's a journey, an adventure, a running away. It's personal, unique and if you let it, faith will change your life forever. In short, faith is a gift. Will you take it?
And yet for many of us, faith is a fence. It's a word that delineates all we believe in. It outlines what we can and cannot do, what we can and cannot think. It isolates us from a large portion of society while simultaneously making us family with people from every tribe and tongue. Faith shapes us, moulds us, defines us.
But what if faith is more than this?
For years I followed set paths. I grew up walking the path of Legalism. Being a Christian had some very clear expectations. If I didn't meet those standards, then I wasn't a Christian, or at least not a very good one. I tried very hard, reading through my Bible multiple times, spending large amounts of time in prayer. Yet Legalism didn't advance my faith, it just tore holes in it.
Then I discovered grace. I left Legalism behind without even a word of farewell. I started walking a new path, one of Intelligent Belief. I scorned my former behaviour and set about creating a new way to live. Being relevant and relational were key words on this path. As part of my church, I set goals to grow in my faith, to bring others to Christ. I walked confidently on this path and then watched everything I wanted and work for crumble.
I'll be honest. Walking away from my faith looked really good. Walking away from life had its appeal as well. How could God let me down? Didn't I have faith in Him? Didn't I trust Him? Wasn't I doing what He asked of me? For two years I wrestled with these thoughts.
I felt like I was walking through a jungle. The overgrowth was wild and ferocious, the critters even more so. Yes, the jungle is beautiful but it's also terrifying. Thankfully I had a map. As long as I stuck to the clearly delineated paths I would be okay. But the further I got into the jungle, the less sense my map made. I was confused and frustrated. This map was THE map for safe passage through. What was wrong with me that I couldn't understand it?
And just as I became overwhelmed with despair, a beautiful golden butterfly fluttered by. Bathed in a golden light, it waggled its wings at me. That's when I knew. I had to follow it. Dropping my map, I charged off into the jungle. My companions hollered after me, warning me of the dangers, beseeching me to come back. But I couldn't shake this compulsion, didn't want to shake it. Soon their voices faded into the background jungle noise.
The journey wasn't easy. Following the butterfly didn't guarantee a safe passage. I bore wounds from a thorn bush I fell into, scratches from an encounter with a jungle cat. But still I ran. And when I saw the clearing up ahead, I kept going. Even when I realised that the ambient sounds of the jungle were being drowned out by a new sound, I kept going. When my foot hit the edge of the cliff, I didn't hesitate or try to scramble backwards. Instead I lept into the abyss, knowing that wherever I was going, it would be good.
And this is what faith is. It isn't easy or predictable. It's a mad dash at times, a leap of faith. It's a chasing of the Wild Goose, a plunging into the unknown. This wild unknowing following isn't easy, it certainly isn't popular. And I really don't recommend it without wise people who can help you discern God's voice. But even as my life heads into territory where all I can do is trust God, I feel the safest and most secure that I have ever felt. For although hard, unexpected, unpleasant things have happened, I know that God has never let go of me. Instead He has led to me greener pastures, to stiller waters and He is restoring my soul.
So then what is faith?
Faith is unexpected. It's a journey, an adventure, a running away. It's personal, unique and if you let it, faith will change your life forever. In short, faith is a gift. Will you take it?
Monday, September 19, 2011
Shedding Expectations
Driving home the other night, the old demons awoke and began to strangle me. Down down down into the abyss of doubt, doom and despair I fell. I wanted to hurt, wanted to yell, to scream, to allow the anger to fill me until I exploded and was no more. In this deep despair, I begged God for a sign. Asked, once more, for some tangible proof that He still loves me, that I'm not the worthless reject I've been labelled.
All was silent. I wanted words that said "I was wrong", or "You are missed", or "Our community is weaker without you". I turned to my computer, hoping for a message from God there. My inbox held ads for restaurants, savings to be had on kids clothing and shoes, and a praise report from Austria, but nothing personal, nothing that spoke of regret. I wondered then, as I have wondered, if God mourns the ripping apart of community, the rejection by his people.
Being rejected by a church damages one's view of God.
I stood in church the next day, still broken and battered. Music washed over me. Unable to be still, I lifted my voice and then, in that moment of corporate worship, a realization swept over me. Healing will come. It won't be the way I want it, nor will it come from the places I long for it to come. I want to be vindicated by others' regret. Yet that would not be true healing. It's hard to lay aside these hopes and desires, to realize the restoration and reconciliation I have longed for most likely won't happen on this earth. Slowly, I strip off the layers of anger and hope-deferred to step naked of all expectations into the healing embrace of the Father, choosing to trust, each day new, that healing, full perfect and complete, will come.
All was silent. I wanted words that said "I was wrong", or "You are missed", or "Our community is weaker without you". I turned to my computer, hoping for a message from God there. My inbox held ads for restaurants, savings to be had on kids clothing and shoes, and a praise report from Austria, but nothing personal, nothing that spoke of regret. I wondered then, as I have wondered, if God mourns the ripping apart of community, the rejection by his people.
Being rejected by a church damages one's view of God.
I stood in church the next day, still broken and battered. Music washed over me. Unable to be still, I lifted my voice and then, in that moment of corporate worship, a realization swept over me. Healing will come. It won't be the way I want it, nor will it come from the places I long for it to come. I want to be vindicated by others' regret. Yet that would not be true healing. It's hard to lay aside these hopes and desires, to realize the restoration and reconciliation I have longed for most likely won't happen on this earth. Slowly, I strip off the layers of anger and hope-deferred to step naked of all expectations into the healing embrace of the Father, choosing to trust, each day new, that healing, full perfect and complete, will come.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Tossed about: James Chapter 1
Sometimes the Word of God just reaches up and smacks me in the face.
My heart is divided. I don't want it to be, but it is. Sometimes I even try to pretend that my heart is whole, just a little cracked. But the reality is that I waver between being faith-filled and consumed by doubt. One moment I'm moving forward in faith, trusting in God's goodness; the next I'm cowering in fear, consumed by doubt and pain. It's hard to get anything accomplished while living on see-saw.
James has harsh words for me:
My heart is divided. I don't want it to be, but it is. Sometimes I even try to pretend that my heart is whole, just a little cracked. But the reality is that I waver between being faith-filled and consumed by doubt. One moment I'm moving forward in faith, trusting in God's goodness; the next I'm cowering in fear, consumed by doubt and pain. It's hard to get anything accomplished while living on see-saw.
James has harsh words for me:
Do not waver, for a person with divided loyalty is as unsettled as a wave of the sea that is blown and tossed by the wind. Such people should not expect to receive anything from the Lord. Their loyalty is divided between God and the world, and they are unstable in everything they do.
James 1:6-8
His words describe me well. I am unstable, trusting that God is good one moment and then overwhelmed with the notion that He has abandoned me or is capricious the next. My life reflects this as does my faith. It's hard to invest in my relationship with God when I'm unconvinced of His character. And how can God answer my prayers when I spend half of my time accusing Him?
I've repented of my divided heart, asked for forgiveness and healing. I want to trust God, I want to move forward in faith. So now I make the choice. I choose to trust God, to trust that He is indeed good and that His mercies do endure forever. Not only that, but I'm actively looking for His mercies, the blessings of protection, beauty and goodness that He strews along my path.
I'm climbing off this see-saw and running for the beach, where I will dive headlong into the ocean of His grace.
I'm writing with Marla today as we study the book of James. Join with us?
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Desert Wanderings
I've been wandering in the desert these past two years. It's hostile here; even the temperature changes are extreme. There is life here, but it's hard to find and either prickly or poisonous. But somehow, in this hostile, intemperate land, I have fashioned an existence for myself. It's meager living at best, but it's something.
I've gotten comfortable here. I know the rocks, the wind, the sand. Each holds a story-most of them about betrayal and loneliness. There are many stories here. I am never alone, never lost because I remember the pain. Alone in the desert, I won't forget. I won't get fooled into getting hurt again. Somehow it's safer in this wild place.
But now it's time to leave. I know that deep down, my time here is done. There are new places to explore, fertile countries with a more moderate climate, abundant vegetation, open water and no scorpions. It sounds like heaven. My heart should be rejoicing, I should be packing my bags and heading out...but I'm not.
I'm scared. I know this place. It isn't much, but it's home. It hurts here, yes. But it's old hurt. I can't be fooled here. Out there, in the lush place of abundance, there will be many opportunities to be wounded. I may get tricked again. Where will I be then? I can't see myself heading back into the desert, having to relearn living here all over again. Could I survive having to return?
The questions swirl around in my head. I ignore them, pack my bags, and head out into a scary new adventure.
I've gotten comfortable here. I know the rocks, the wind, the sand. Each holds a story-most of them about betrayal and loneliness. There are many stories here. I am never alone, never lost because I remember the pain. Alone in the desert, I won't forget. I won't get fooled into getting hurt again. Somehow it's safer in this wild place.
But now it's time to leave. I know that deep down, my time here is done. There are new places to explore, fertile countries with a more moderate climate, abundant vegetation, open water and no scorpions. It sounds like heaven. My heart should be rejoicing, I should be packing my bags and heading out...but I'm not.
I'm scared. I know this place. It isn't much, but it's home. It hurts here, yes. But it's old hurt. I can't be fooled here. Out there, in the lush place of abundance, there will be many opportunities to be wounded. I may get tricked again. Where will I be then? I can't see myself heading back into the desert, having to relearn living here all over again. Could I survive having to return?
The questions swirl around in my head. I ignore them, pack my bags, and head out into a scary new adventure.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Questioning God's character
Something about waiting on a baby causes me to ponder God's plans and goodness. Over the course of the last few years, I've had reason to question God's sovereignty. Is God truly sovereign? Is He good? And are His plans for me good? Oftentimes in the heat of the moment, the answer to all of the above appears to be a big fat NO.
Questioning God's goodness is not something that goes over well in the church. The standard answer is that of course God is good and that everything negative is a result of sin. In theory, I agree with these statements. But in the thick of it, when everything seems to be crumbling, those sometimes pat answers don't hold water. During some of the darkest times last year, I wondered if God was sadistic, deriving pleasure from watching us struggle. Perhaps He derived amusement from watching us obey time after time, even when the consequences of obedience were hard. At times, I could picture Him up in heaven calling to the angels "Come check out these suckers! After all of that, they're going to obey! Again! Man, these humans are hysterical!" Thoughts like these do not go over well in the church, let me tell you.
I have wrestled not only with God's goodness, but also with His justice. Is God just? Does he truly punish those who do wrong? After months of questioning(and feeling guilty over said questioning), it was a relief to realize that Job also wrestled with this. He flat-out accused God of closing the eyes of judges so that evildoers remained unpunished. Among other things, Job also suggested that God is capricious and selfish, thinking only of what will bring Him pleasure. As Job recognized that God is all-powerful and was responsible only to Himself, Job only asked that God kill him quickly. Strangely, God's response was not to strike Job with lightening or swallow him in the earth. Instead God asked a series of questions revealing His awesome power and knowledge that was far from any human abilities. With that, Job was satisfied.
I don't know that I would be, yet. I want answers that aren't vague, ones that focus on the situation rather than on God's character. But during this time of trial, although my questions have to do with what has happened on the surface, I have come to realize that it is God's character that I am challenging. There is much that I don't understand. Like my client wrote to me this morning, "this is definitely a time when I wish God gave us His plans in writing". I wonder what we would see, if in heaven, we could see God's plans overlaid with ours on some sort of cosmic life map. Would I continue to question God's character or I would rejoice in His supremacy?
Baby will be making an appearance shortly, so off to the hospital I go.
Questioning God's goodness is not something that goes over well in the church. The standard answer is that of course God is good and that everything negative is a result of sin. In theory, I agree with these statements. But in the thick of it, when everything seems to be crumbling, those sometimes pat answers don't hold water. During some of the darkest times last year, I wondered if God was sadistic, deriving pleasure from watching us struggle. Perhaps He derived amusement from watching us obey time after time, even when the consequences of obedience were hard. At times, I could picture Him up in heaven calling to the angels "Come check out these suckers! After all of that, they're going to obey! Again! Man, these humans are hysterical!" Thoughts like these do not go over well in the church, let me tell you.
I have wrestled not only with God's goodness, but also with His justice. Is God just? Does he truly punish those who do wrong? After months of questioning(and feeling guilty over said questioning), it was a relief to realize that Job also wrestled with this. He flat-out accused God of closing the eyes of judges so that evildoers remained unpunished. Among other things, Job also suggested that God is capricious and selfish, thinking only of what will bring Him pleasure. As Job recognized that God is all-powerful and was responsible only to Himself, Job only asked that God kill him quickly. Strangely, God's response was not to strike Job with lightening or swallow him in the earth. Instead God asked a series of questions revealing His awesome power and knowledge that was far from any human abilities. With that, Job was satisfied.
I don't know that I would be, yet. I want answers that aren't vague, ones that focus on the situation rather than on God's character. But during this time of trial, although my questions have to do with what has happened on the surface, I have come to realize that it is God's character that I am challenging. There is much that I don't understand. Like my client wrote to me this morning, "this is definitely a time when I wish God gave us His plans in writing". I wonder what we would see, if in heaven, we could see God's plans overlaid with ours on some sort of cosmic life map. Would I continue to question God's character or I would rejoice in His supremacy?
Baby will be making an appearance shortly, so off to the hospital I go.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Theology and Holiness
The internet seems to be brimming with an angry mob mentality currently with prominent Christian bloggers loosing attacks on everyone from Rob Bell to Ann Voskamp. It may just be those two being attacked, but really? Anyhoo...No, they're not being attacked because they've sinned grievously but because of their theology. Now I do understand the importance of sound theology, but a disagreement over theology should not justify some of the vicious personal attacks going on.
I may be very wrong, but I don't really care about theology. I should probably clarify that I hold to some rather conservative theological viewpoints, and I do understand the importance of sound doctrine. After all, I have read the warnings about false teachers. Scary stuff. In my own life, I've seen what happens when theology gets twisted. It ain't pretty. But all the same, I don't really care. You can debate all you like whether the rapture is pre, mid or post-trib or women's role in ministry. Talk about hell, what constitutes observing the Sabbath, whether or not we can eat pork. Just leave me out of it. I may offer some interesting perspective, but for the most part I really don't care. (I do however have some opinions on whether or not a Christian should eat halal meat. Technically, that counts as food offered to a false god. Paul is fairly clear that we are freed from those laws and can eat whatever we feel we should, but I still think it's a very interesting dilemma that we typically don't think about. For the record, I do eat halal meat occasionally because disrespecting my friends' deeply held beliefs would be a stumbling block between them and the gospel. Oh, and because M*slims have very good food. Mmmm...shawarma....)
The problem with theology is that for the most part it is pretty abstract. Some of it, like women's role in ministry, impacts how church actually works, but for the most part all of our arguments about the rapture, predestination, hell, etc don't impact the here and now. And for me, that's what I'm most concerned about. Yeah, not ending up in a lake of burning fire is a bonus, but I'm much more aware of what the consequences of salvation are right now. Colossians 1 v13 says that God has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son He loves. Did you just read that? We are rescued! We are set free from all the sin and bondage that enslave us. Having been terribly enslaved, I am loving that verse. Although it has been a very bumpy road, this freedom in Christ, being brought out of darkness into light and redemption has transformed my life. When I look around at my friends, family, children, neighbours, this is what I want for them. Yes, I don't want any of the people in my life to go to hell, but I long to see them live lives transformed, to know the glorious peace and freedom that comes from this relationship with God. My heart is in the present, not the future.
Not only are we set free, we are transformed. This may be my favourite part of the gospel, that we are filled with the Holy Spirit's power and can be forever changed. Sometimes we get this idea that the fruits of the Spirit are ideas to aspire to rather than real changes that happen in us as we believe. As we pursue God, we are made righteous by our simple belief. I love seeing the changes happen in my life when I draw near, the gentle response in tough situations that is not my natural reaction. It's hard to put this into words, but I am blown away by the changes I see in my life and in the lives of others when they allow the Spirit to work. I'm not talking about people trying harder and living fake lives, but rather a very real transformation out of sin and towards holiness. It blows my mind.
So really all that theological stuff I mentioned earlier doesn't really do it for me. Why? Not because I don't believe it is important, but because my energy and focus is on the very real transformational power possible only through the shed blood of Christ and the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. If I'm going to get up in arms about anything, it would be regarding our culture's indifference to such things, to the fruit of the Spirit and to the concept of real and possible holiness. Nope, I'm not talking about legalism(been there, done that, gave back the t-shirt), but rather a drawing towards God and away from the world. We shouldn't be competing to see how worldly we can be while still embracing the Christian label. Neither should we be secluding ourselves from our culture and only taking part in "Christian" things. Somewhere in there should be a middle ground where we are part of our culture and yet set apart by in the indisputable presence of God.
If I am going to get up in arms about anything, this will be it. Let others argue about the existence of hell or possible depth of our relationship with God. I'll be over here with my cup of tea mulling over how best to reach those around me for Christ or how to raise my children to be relevant and yet different, Christ-like even. I'll also be the one who gets all passionate and loud about the amazing power of Christ that breaks the bonds of our sins, addictions, habits and junk. I have no desire to go back to when I was uber-conservative and bound up in sin. Because of the profound freedom and changes I experienced, I'm also gonna be the one sitting there praying for our youth who may love Jesus but look, act and sound just like the church. I'm going to be the friend that initiates some hard conversations on what following Christ looks likes practically. I'm also going to be the girl that screws up lots, and so speaks from desperate experience as to the transforming power of the Holy Spirit. If it weren't for Him, I'd be screwed.
I respect that there are a lot of Christians with some strong opinions and voices. It would just be nice if that strength was directed towards calling us as a body towards holiness instead of attacking people over theology.
I may be very wrong, but I don't really care about theology. I should probably clarify that I hold to some rather conservative theological viewpoints, and I do understand the importance of sound doctrine. After all, I have read the warnings about false teachers. Scary stuff. In my own life, I've seen what happens when theology gets twisted. It ain't pretty. But all the same, I don't really care. You can debate all you like whether the rapture is pre, mid or post-trib or women's role in ministry. Talk about hell, what constitutes observing the Sabbath, whether or not we can eat pork. Just leave me out of it. I may offer some interesting perspective, but for the most part I really don't care. (I do however have some opinions on whether or not a Christian should eat halal meat. Technically, that counts as food offered to a false god. Paul is fairly clear that we are freed from those laws and can eat whatever we feel we should, but I still think it's a very interesting dilemma that we typically don't think about. For the record, I do eat halal meat occasionally because disrespecting my friends' deeply held beliefs would be a stumbling block between them and the gospel. Oh, and because M*slims have very good food. Mmmm...shawarma....)
The problem with theology is that for the most part it is pretty abstract. Some of it, like women's role in ministry, impacts how church actually works, but for the most part all of our arguments about the rapture, predestination, hell, etc don't impact the here and now. And for me, that's what I'm most concerned about. Yeah, not ending up in a lake of burning fire is a bonus, but I'm much more aware of what the consequences of salvation are right now. Colossians 1 v13 says that God has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son He loves. Did you just read that? We are rescued! We are set free from all the sin and bondage that enslave us. Having been terribly enslaved, I am loving that verse. Although it has been a very bumpy road, this freedom in Christ, being brought out of darkness into light and redemption has transformed my life. When I look around at my friends, family, children, neighbours, this is what I want for them. Yes, I don't want any of the people in my life to go to hell, but I long to see them live lives transformed, to know the glorious peace and freedom that comes from this relationship with God. My heart is in the present, not the future.
Not only are we set free, we are transformed. This may be my favourite part of the gospel, that we are filled with the Holy Spirit's power and can be forever changed. Sometimes we get this idea that the fruits of the Spirit are ideas to aspire to rather than real changes that happen in us as we believe. As we pursue God, we are made righteous by our simple belief. I love seeing the changes happen in my life when I draw near, the gentle response in tough situations that is not my natural reaction. It's hard to put this into words, but I am blown away by the changes I see in my life and in the lives of others when they allow the Spirit to work. I'm not talking about people trying harder and living fake lives, but rather a very real transformation out of sin and towards holiness. It blows my mind.
So really all that theological stuff I mentioned earlier doesn't really do it for me. Why? Not because I don't believe it is important, but because my energy and focus is on the very real transformational power possible only through the shed blood of Christ and the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. If I'm going to get up in arms about anything, it would be regarding our culture's indifference to such things, to the fruit of the Spirit and to the concept of real and possible holiness. Nope, I'm not talking about legalism(been there, done that, gave back the t-shirt), but rather a drawing towards God and away from the world. We shouldn't be competing to see how worldly we can be while still embracing the Christian label. Neither should we be secluding ourselves from our culture and only taking part in "Christian" things. Somewhere in there should be a middle ground where we are part of our culture and yet set apart by in the indisputable presence of God.
If I am going to get up in arms about anything, this will be it. Let others argue about the existence of hell or possible depth of our relationship with God. I'll be over here with my cup of tea mulling over how best to reach those around me for Christ or how to raise my children to be relevant and yet different, Christ-like even. I'll also be the one who gets all passionate and loud about the amazing power of Christ that breaks the bonds of our sins, addictions, habits and junk. I have no desire to go back to when I was uber-conservative and bound up in sin. Because of the profound freedom and changes I experienced, I'm also gonna be the one sitting there praying for our youth who may love Jesus but look, act and sound just like the church. I'm going to be the friend that initiates some hard conversations on what following Christ looks likes practically. I'm also going to be the girl that screws up lots, and so speaks from desperate experience as to the transforming power of the Holy Spirit. If it weren't for Him, I'd be screwed.
I respect that there are a lot of Christians with some strong opinions and voices. It would just be nice if that strength was directed towards calling us as a body towards holiness instead of attacking people over theology.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Keep Going
Today I'm taking part in the Your Secret Name read-along over at Marla's. We're responding to chapters 12 and 13, which I must confess hit me hard.
Last week I wrote about some of the consequences of broken relationships that we are currently experiencing. Leaving our church has not been easy. Compared to some of the other consequences I'm facing, that has been an easier one. Like Kary, relationships have caused me pain. Because of the pain, he withdrew, locking away his emotions. Unable to stifle my emotions, I have simply stopped trusting. Without trust, my world has become filled with fear. When my husband is late, I begin to seriously wonder if he has finally had enough and left. While hanging out with friends, I wonder how long it will be until they end our friendship. When a small child attacks me in a store, I keep quiet for fear of getting in trouble. (Yes, that did happen.) Making new friends and maintaining current friendships drains me now because of all the fear. It would be easier just to hide.
I've tried hiding. But my husband makes me go to church, reminding me of my marriage vows when I get particularly stubborn. Before this season started, God blessed with me two amazing friends who live in my complex. Though I've tried to run away and hide, these amazing friends won't let me. Trust is something I struggle with, but less around them because of their transparency. If they didn't like me, I'd know. Still, I just want to crawl into a hole until Jesus comes back. This is too hard for me.
So this is where I am, this place of deep hurt and broken trust. Trusting God is challenging too because it was obeying Him that got me into this mess. (Side note: It was Jacob's obedience to his mother that landed him in exile. I wonder how he responded to that and how it affected their relationship.) With all this fresh in my mind from chapter 12, I then read this:
"God wanted to transform Jacob, but transformation is never easy and always involves pain."p.141
"As author Oswald Chambers wrote "Before God can use a man greatly, he must wound him deeply." Even though at times the hurt is excruciating, we simply must stay in the fight." p. 141
"In this final stage, many of us give up and go back to our Given Names. Wrestling with God takes its toll, and even though we're only inches away from a new identity, we let it slip away once more." p. 142
Does this mean there is hope? Given hope, I can keep going. Perhaps if I think of this in terms of childbirth, this deep time of pain as transition, then I can make it through. In transition, it is easy to panic. That's the time when many labouring mamas start to get discouraged. I can't do this, it is too hard. But in reality, they are getting closer to meeting their little one with each new wave. During this time of intensity, a doula offers words of encouragement such as "Just keep breathing" "You're almost there!" "You are doing such a good job!" Perhaps this is what I need to remind myself. I want this new identity, to be birthed into the fullness of what God has planned for me. Just like I longed for my babies to be OUT, now I long for that freedom. And it is almost there, I just need to keep going, taking each day, each breath at a time. That I can do.
Last week I wrote about some of the consequences of broken relationships that we are currently experiencing. Leaving our church has not been easy. Compared to some of the other consequences I'm facing, that has been an easier one. Like Kary, relationships have caused me pain. Because of the pain, he withdrew, locking away his emotions. Unable to stifle my emotions, I have simply stopped trusting. Without trust, my world has become filled with fear. When my husband is late, I begin to seriously wonder if he has finally had enough and left. While hanging out with friends, I wonder how long it will be until they end our friendship. When a small child attacks me in a store, I keep quiet for fear of getting in trouble. (Yes, that did happen.) Making new friends and maintaining current friendships drains me now because of all the fear. It would be easier just to hide.
I've tried hiding. But my husband makes me go to church, reminding me of my marriage vows when I get particularly stubborn. Before this season started, God blessed with me two amazing friends who live in my complex. Though I've tried to run away and hide, these amazing friends won't let me. Trust is something I struggle with, but less around them because of their transparency. If they didn't like me, I'd know. Still, I just want to crawl into a hole until Jesus comes back. This is too hard for me.
So this is where I am, this place of deep hurt and broken trust. Trusting God is challenging too because it was obeying Him that got me into this mess. (Side note: It was Jacob's obedience to his mother that landed him in exile. I wonder how he responded to that and how it affected their relationship.) With all this fresh in my mind from chapter 12, I then read this:
"God wanted to transform Jacob, but transformation is never easy and always involves pain."p.141
"As author Oswald Chambers wrote "Before God can use a man greatly, he must wound him deeply." Even though at times the hurt is excruciating, we simply must stay in the fight." p. 141
"In this final stage, many of us give up and go back to our Given Names. Wrestling with God takes its toll, and even though we're only inches away from a new identity, we let it slip away once more." p. 142
Does this mean there is hope? Given hope, I can keep going. Perhaps if I think of this in terms of childbirth, this deep time of pain as transition, then I can make it through. In transition, it is easy to panic. That's the time when many labouring mamas start to get discouraged. I can't do this, it is too hard. But in reality, they are getting closer to meeting their little one with each new wave. During this time of intensity, a doula offers words of encouragement such as "Just keep breathing" "You're almost there!" "You are doing such a good job!" Perhaps this is what I need to remind myself. I want this new identity, to be birthed into the fullness of what God has planned for me. Just like I longed for my babies to be OUT, now I long for that freedom. And it is almost there, I just need to keep going, taking each day, each breath at a time. That I can do.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Exile and Return
I'm writing this post for Marla's read-along featuring Your Secret Name by Kary Oberbrunner. This week we're covering chapters 10 and 11.
"Exile is temporary."
The opening sentence of chapter 10 reached out and grabbed me. While writing this, my eyes fill with tears and that uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach returns. Right now, I feel like I'm exile. It's a nasty feeling. In September we left our church. We didn't want to leave, but a broken relationship within the church was tearing us apart. We were plagued by grief and hurt, chased by bitterness and surrounded by isolation. Not only were the negative circumstances playing havoc with my health, they were also causing tension within the church. When our pastor commented that our church felt like a war zone, we decided to leave. This didn't seem fair as we had tried to resolve the situation, but such tension could not bring glory to God. So we left as honourably as we possibly could.
Leaving was both good and hard. My health slowly improved and I stopped dreading church. We started attending a church where we have been able to heal. Worshipping together again has been a blessing as my husband is no longer in charge of the sound board. Our children really like this church, even our grumpy toddler. We are very thankful for the healing that has occurred.
But leaving is hard. We've had to grieve the loss of relationships, of people we called family. Among the hardest part is the feeling of failure, that the church is better off without me. During this season of hurt and exile, I have felt like my given name is "Problem". God (and my husband) continue to whisper different names, ones that offer hope. But can that hope, can God, be trusted? I struggle.
I doubt a lot. I doubt that God can use me, that He does indeed have good plans for me. I doubt that He can bring about restoration and reconciliation. Much like Jacob when he learned that Esau was approaching with 400 men, I cannot see peace ahead. And to be very honest, I'm not sure if I want reconciliation or peace. Not that I want war, I would just like to stay very far from conflict. Unfortunately for me, the situation appears to be moving towards reconciliation. I don't think I have the strength to walk through any more confrontations.
It would be very easy to walk away, but not only have we committed to walking through this honourably, we also feel called to attend church in our neighbourhood. The church we were attending is the closest church to our house and right next door to the low-income housing complex we are building relationships in. There are definite advantages to going back to our former church. But to do this will require a lot of faith and trust. I don't think I have much of that left. Unlike Jacob, I don't have the ways and means to come up with alternative plans. Instead I'm being forced to trust. So now to wait and see that God really is good, that His plans for me, just like His plans for Jacob, are good.
I could keep writing because chapter 10 resonated with me. I think I could have highlighted every other sentence. Perhaps I'll write again later.
"Exile is temporary."
The opening sentence of chapter 10 reached out and grabbed me. While writing this, my eyes fill with tears and that uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach returns. Right now, I feel like I'm exile. It's a nasty feeling. In September we left our church. We didn't want to leave, but a broken relationship within the church was tearing us apart. We were plagued by grief and hurt, chased by bitterness and surrounded by isolation. Not only were the negative circumstances playing havoc with my health, they were also causing tension within the church. When our pastor commented that our church felt like a war zone, we decided to leave. This didn't seem fair as we had tried to resolve the situation, but such tension could not bring glory to God. So we left as honourably as we possibly could.
Leaving was both good and hard. My health slowly improved and I stopped dreading church. We started attending a church where we have been able to heal. Worshipping together again has been a blessing as my husband is no longer in charge of the sound board. Our children really like this church, even our grumpy toddler. We are very thankful for the healing that has occurred.
But leaving is hard. We've had to grieve the loss of relationships, of people we called family. Among the hardest part is the feeling of failure, that the church is better off without me. During this season of hurt and exile, I have felt like my given name is "Problem". God (and my husband) continue to whisper different names, ones that offer hope. But can that hope, can God, be trusted? I struggle.
I doubt a lot. I doubt that God can use me, that He does indeed have good plans for me. I doubt that He can bring about restoration and reconciliation. Much like Jacob when he learned that Esau was approaching with 400 men, I cannot see peace ahead. And to be very honest, I'm not sure if I want reconciliation or peace. Not that I want war, I would just like to stay very far from conflict. Unfortunately for me, the situation appears to be moving towards reconciliation. I don't think I have the strength to walk through any more confrontations.
It would be very easy to walk away, but not only have we committed to walking through this honourably, we also feel called to attend church in our neighbourhood. The church we were attending is the closest church to our house and right next door to the low-income housing complex we are building relationships in. There are definite advantages to going back to our former church. But to do this will require a lot of faith and trust. I don't think I have much of that left. Unlike Jacob, I don't have the ways and means to come up with alternative plans. Instead I'm being forced to trust. So now to wait and see that God really is good, that His plans for me, just like His plans for Jacob, are good.
I could keep writing because chapter 10 resonated with me. I think I could have highlighted every other sentence. Perhaps I'll write again later.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
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.
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.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
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.
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.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, November 8, 2010
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. :)
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. :)
Monday, November 1, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, October 25, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, October 18, 2010
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?
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?
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
How Do I Do That?
Welcome to my post on Radical. We're on chapter five this week.
In Matthew 28:19, we are commanded to make disciples of all nations. This isn't a suggestion or a maybe or a "if you feel so led" please go and disciples. In the preceding verse, Jesus says that we are given all authority on heaven and earth. He doesn't follow this up by saying please live a good life, take great vacations and say a prayer before you go to bed and at every meal. Instead He gifts us with His supernatural power for the specific purpose of making disciples, baptizing them and then teaching them to obey what God has taught us. So how on earth to we go about doing that?
For me, this command can conjure up a lot of anxiety. It also brings up a lot of toos and nots. I'm too busy, I'm too tired, I'm too broken, my kids are too crazy, my house is too messy, my church has too many issues, I'm not spiritual enough, I'm not ready for this, I'm not.... the list could go on. But all of these concerns are beside the point. Am I a follower of Christ? If the answer is yes, nothing else matters. No matter what my issues are, if I'm a Christian I am commanded to make disciples.
So then who do I disciple? Do I put an add on Craigslist? "If you would like to learn about Jesus, please contact Grace?" Do I randomly approach people and ask them if they'd like to know Jesus better? Well, those are possibilities, but I'm not sure I would recommend them. Rather, I think we are meant to begin with those we know. So who do I know? Who are my friends? If all my friends are Christians, I am most likely a disinfected Christian rather than a discipler.
Until last year, I belonged in that category. Most of my social interaction took place within the community of believers, although I did have some friends outside the faith. Then last fall happened, and overnight I lost most of my friends within my church. I experienced social ostracism. Although this has been a very hard thing, it has had the benefit of kicking me out into my community. I have more time to listen, more willingness to befriend, and a great desire to spend time with others. Because of this, I have finally made good friends among my neighbours and school mates. Instead of fellowshipping only with other believers, we have been actively building friendships with those in our community. They are the people we have over for dinner, go to movies with, and drink tea with. Since last year, I think I can now call myself a discipler.
For the most part, I believe that discipling happens informally. Currently, the woman that I am discipling has no idea that this is happening. She isn't even a follower of Christ. Yet. But I believe that she will be eventually. It's happening much slower than I would like, but God is at work in her life and heart. I didn't chose her, God did. Lizzie(not her real name) has children in the same classes as my children. We also walk the same way to and from school. Our kids really like each other, but she drives me nuts. The first year we met, I really didn't want to talk to her. During that year, I never invited her in even though we stood in my yard chatting. I was too busy, my house was too messy, and I was not interested in being her friend.
Summer came, and God disciplined my selfish heart. I realized how badly Lizzie needs Jesus, and how much her children need her to find Him. Swallowing my selfishness, I repented and told God that if He brought her into my life again, I would invite her in. Come fall and the start of school, Lizzie was back in my life. I took a deep breath, prayed and invited her over. The first time, she stayed for tea. The next she stayed for dinner. After our third visit, God told me to invite her to church. Other than saying grace and mentioning that my children's art was made at Sunday school, I had not had a single spiritual conversation with her. But I felt very strongly that I was to invite her to church. It was Friday afternoon, I was engaged in conversation with another friend when I saw Lizzie. Breaking off quickly, I darted over and asked "Random awkward question: Woud you like to go to church with me on Sunday?" Strangely she said yes. Lizzie didn't come that Sunday, but she came the next. I'd like to say that she's started following Christ, but she hasn't yet. However, she is seeking and we're continuing to come alongside her as she is ready, communicating God's great love for her with our actions and unconditional love and care.
I'm coming to learn that discipleship is about obeying God's call and living openly. We just celebrated Canadian Thanksgiving this past weekend. My husband's family has been journeying with us in reaching our community. As a result, they opened their home and table to six Asian students they've been connecting with. My family invited over two neighbour couples, both Russian(mostly). One family also follows Christ, the other doesn't. The unbelieving family attended the Oktoberfest parade with us. While we were waiting for the parade to start, a woman came along handing out tracks. To be honest, this woman makes me embarrassed to call myself a Christian. I disagree with both her methods and her theology. Even after we politely refused the tracks, saying that we already know Christ, she pressed them on us with warnings of hellfire. *sigh* My daughter read the track and then handed it over, saying that she already knows Jesus. Her faith warms my heart. The neighbour boy also read the track and then asked who is this Jesus Christ. With his father's permission, I was able to briefly explain the Gospel. While hiking with my menfolk through the woods, this same little boy commented that we believe in God and his parents don't. We haven't done anything other than live our lives openly, inviting them in. Steve and I have both had honest faith conversations with his parents and we prayerfully anticipate many more.
I could keep writing because this is a subject I'm passionate about. Discipling is hard. There are many times when I don't want to engage others in conversation, when I don't want to open my home, when I am too tired and hurt to open my heart to new friends. I don't feel capable of leading others to Christ. But I ache for my beautiful friends. I want them to experience the amazingness of a relationship with Christ. My answer to everything is prayer and I want them to have that option too. Since these are my friends and neighbours, it's up to me to buck up and obey Christ's command to make disciples. I have to say that in all honesty, I wouldn't go back to being a disinfected believer, only interacting with other believers. Although I feel inadequate most days, I also feel alive and purposeful. May you discover the joys of sharing your life with whomever God brings into your path. May we go forth and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them and teaching them to obey God. My next step is to invite someone over for dinner once a week. What's yours?
In Matthew 28:19, we are commanded to make disciples of all nations. This isn't a suggestion or a maybe or a "if you feel so led" please go and disciples. In the preceding verse, Jesus says that we are given all authority on heaven and earth. He doesn't follow this up by saying please live a good life, take great vacations and say a prayer before you go to bed and at every meal. Instead He gifts us with His supernatural power for the specific purpose of making disciples, baptizing them and then teaching them to obey what God has taught us. So how on earth to we go about doing that?
For me, this command can conjure up a lot of anxiety. It also brings up a lot of toos and nots. I'm too busy, I'm too tired, I'm too broken, my kids are too crazy, my house is too messy, my church has too many issues, I'm not spiritual enough, I'm not ready for this, I'm not.... the list could go on. But all of these concerns are beside the point. Am I a follower of Christ? If the answer is yes, nothing else matters. No matter what my issues are, if I'm a Christian I am commanded to make disciples.
So then who do I disciple? Do I put an add on Craigslist? "If you would like to learn about Jesus, please contact Grace?" Do I randomly approach people and ask them if they'd like to know Jesus better? Well, those are possibilities, but I'm not sure I would recommend them. Rather, I think we are meant to begin with those we know. So who do I know? Who are my friends? If all my friends are Christians, I am most likely a disinfected Christian rather than a discipler.
Until last year, I belonged in that category. Most of my social interaction took place within the community of believers, although I did have some friends outside the faith. Then last fall happened, and overnight I lost most of my friends within my church. I experienced social ostracism. Although this has been a very hard thing, it has had the benefit of kicking me out into my community. I have more time to listen, more willingness to befriend, and a great desire to spend time with others. Because of this, I have finally made good friends among my neighbours and school mates. Instead of fellowshipping only with other believers, we have been actively building friendships with those in our community. They are the people we have over for dinner, go to movies with, and drink tea with. Since last year, I think I can now call myself a discipler.
For the most part, I believe that discipling happens informally. Currently, the woman that I am discipling has no idea that this is happening. She isn't even a follower of Christ. Yet. But I believe that she will be eventually. It's happening much slower than I would like, but God is at work in her life and heart. I didn't chose her, God did. Lizzie(not her real name) has children in the same classes as my children. We also walk the same way to and from school. Our kids really like each other, but she drives me nuts. The first year we met, I really didn't want to talk to her. During that year, I never invited her in even though we stood in my yard chatting. I was too busy, my house was too messy, and I was not interested in being her friend.
Summer came, and God disciplined my selfish heart. I realized how badly Lizzie needs Jesus, and how much her children need her to find Him. Swallowing my selfishness, I repented and told God that if He brought her into my life again, I would invite her in. Come fall and the start of school, Lizzie was back in my life. I took a deep breath, prayed and invited her over. The first time, she stayed for tea. The next she stayed for dinner. After our third visit, God told me to invite her to church. Other than saying grace and mentioning that my children's art was made at Sunday school, I had not had a single spiritual conversation with her. But I felt very strongly that I was to invite her to church. It was Friday afternoon, I was engaged in conversation with another friend when I saw Lizzie. Breaking off quickly, I darted over and asked "Random awkward question: Woud you like to go to church with me on Sunday?" Strangely she said yes. Lizzie didn't come that Sunday, but she came the next. I'd like to say that she's started following Christ, but she hasn't yet. However, she is seeking and we're continuing to come alongside her as she is ready, communicating God's great love for her with our actions and unconditional love and care.
I'm coming to learn that discipleship is about obeying God's call and living openly. We just celebrated Canadian Thanksgiving this past weekend. My husband's family has been journeying with us in reaching our community. As a result, they opened their home and table to six Asian students they've been connecting with. My family invited over two neighbour couples, both Russian(mostly). One family also follows Christ, the other doesn't. The unbelieving family attended the Oktoberfest parade with us. While we were waiting for the parade to start, a woman came along handing out tracks. To be honest, this woman makes me embarrassed to call myself a Christian. I disagree with both her methods and her theology. Even after we politely refused the tracks, saying that we already know Christ, she pressed them on us with warnings of hellfire. *sigh* My daughter read the track and then handed it over, saying that she already knows Jesus. Her faith warms my heart. The neighbour boy also read the track and then asked who is this Jesus Christ. With his father's permission, I was able to briefly explain the Gospel. While hiking with my menfolk through the woods, this same little boy commented that we believe in God and his parents don't. We haven't done anything other than live our lives openly, inviting them in. Steve and I have both had honest faith conversations with his parents and we prayerfully anticipate many more.
I could keep writing because this is a subject I'm passionate about. Discipling is hard. There are many times when I don't want to engage others in conversation, when I don't want to open my home, when I am too tired and hurt to open my heart to new friends. I don't feel capable of leading others to Christ. But I ache for my beautiful friends. I want them to experience the amazingness of a relationship with Christ. My answer to everything is prayer and I want them to have that option too. Since these are my friends and neighbours, it's up to me to buck up and obey Christ's command to make disciples. I have to say that in all honesty, I wouldn't go back to being a disinfected believer, only interacting with other believers. Although I feel inadequate most days, I also feel alive and purposeful. May you discover the joys of sharing your life with whomever God brings into your path. May we go forth and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them and teaching them to obey God. My next step is to invite someone over for dinner once a week. What's yours?
Monday, October 4, 2010
The World Is Here
This is my Radical Read-along post with Marla for week 4. This chapter is about God's global purpose which is to glorify Himself. Platt argues that as believers we are all commanded to impact the entire world for Him.
I think this has been the hardest chapter for me. I struggled with it on my first read through and I still do, just not for the reasons you might think. Perhaps I should start at the beginning...
Just over thirty years ago, a man on a short-term building trip met a full-time teacher at a little mission on the Texas-Mexico border. He asked her to marry him and she said yes. Two days after their first anniversary, I arrived. My parents never forgot their missions experience. It wasn't all positive, but their desire to serve God even in another culture, another climate(let's just say the Mexicans didn't believe my dad's stories about snow) and another language shaped how they raised me. My dad is a story-teller, a very good one at that. Throughout my childhood, he told my sister and I many stories about how my parents met and about that little mission in that little border town. Between my dad's stories and my mother's speaking to us in Spanish, a desire to go grew in my heart. My parents nurtured that desire. My mother's bookshelves held stories of missionaries that I read over and over. While I attended a Christian school, I read and re-read the missionary bibliographies. I was fascinated by these people who heard a call, sacrificed everything and went. I wanted to go too.
As a teen, I had a subscription to Brio magazine. Every year, it came with a full-colour short-term missions insert. I read the descriptions with an aching heart. Each description filled me with a desire to go there, to serve there. My parents couldn't send me on their own, so we asked our pastor about raising support. Unfortunately, I attended a very conservative church that did not support anything outside of their particular group. After reading through the brochure, my pastor pronounced it a waste of money and if I wanted to see the world it could be done a lot cheaper than that. I was heartbroken. But the call of God didn't leave.
This call hasn't left yet. I still have this unspecified longing to go into the world and preach the Gospel. But this funny thing happened...God said no. We've tried to go at least three times on a short-term mission trip and each time God has said no. It's been frustrating. What makes it even more interesting is that my husband and I are full-time missionaries. We are commissioned by our church to spread the Gospel. Not only that, but we raise and live on support. We've tried to go overseas, we want to go overseas, but God keeps saying no. Instead, Steve works at the Canadian head office using his considerable tech talents for God's glory. So when I read this chapter about how we are all supposed to go, I struggled. Is God wrong? How can this be His plan for all of us to go when He won't let me?
Or maybe His plan for us is different. I live in a very multi-cultural area. It isn't as diverse as some of the bigger cities, but for this size of city, it's quite multicultural. Not only is this city one of six refugee settlement areas across Canada, it is also home to two major universities. People from all over the world come here for their undergrad, masters and graduate degrees as well as for post-doc studies. Because we live in inexpensive housing close to the university, many of our neighbours and friends at school are from different nations. Many are students, some are immigrants, some are refugees. We also live right near a major tech hub. Perhaps you've heard of the BlackBerry? Yeah, they make that here. Not only are the massive RIM headquarters down the street, there are also many high-tech companies and research institutes here including Ratheon and the Quantum Institute. Who works there? Well, people from all over the world.
At our very small school, there are over 30 languages represented. Among my friends, I know people from Russia, Israel, the Bahamas, the Philippines, Syria, Afghanistan, Eritrea, Somalia, China, Vietnam, Laos, Scotland, Australia and India to name a few. After meeting all of these wonderful people, it hit me that I could whine about how much I wanted to go into the world and reach others for Christ, or I could get off my butt and start reaching out to my neighbours. While some of my friends are here to stay, others will be going back to their country of origin. Most of those that chose to stay still have contact with their countrymen. What would happen if these people from all over the world came to Christ? What would happen if they were discipled, trained and equipped to spread the Gospel in their country in their language? Would this not be accomplishing God's great global purpose of spreading His glory throughout the earth?
I still want to go. The problem is I want to go everywhere. Well, that and that God keeps saying no. But He does seem to be saying yes to serving here. He even seems to be equipping me. Since I'm a member of a missions organization, albeit a member who hasn't been off the continent yet, I've gotten a lot of extra training. I've taken cross-cultural training, have sat in on discussions on engaging our world for Christ, and have even been able to attend a workshop on ministering to M*slims. As a member of this organization, I have access to some of the best misisional minds out there. If I need training, I can get it. Even as I type this, I'm starting to get excited about the possibilites of accomplishing God's great global purpose here. Like I mentioned last week, I'm praying that God will bring everyone connected with my school to Christ. Can you imagine the possibilities? I am excited to reach my friends with the Gospel with the purpose of enabling them to reach their friends, family members and people-groups. It could spark a never-ending chain of faith explosions.
The bottom line? Are all Christians commissioned to go into all the world and preach the Gospel? Definitely! But does this look the same for everybody? Probably not. Go then, discover your unique calling, and impact the world for Christ.
I think this has been the hardest chapter for me. I struggled with it on my first read through and I still do, just not for the reasons you might think. Perhaps I should start at the beginning...
Just over thirty years ago, a man on a short-term building trip met a full-time teacher at a little mission on the Texas-Mexico border. He asked her to marry him and she said yes. Two days after their first anniversary, I arrived. My parents never forgot their missions experience. It wasn't all positive, but their desire to serve God even in another culture, another climate(let's just say the Mexicans didn't believe my dad's stories about snow) and another language shaped how they raised me. My dad is a story-teller, a very good one at that. Throughout my childhood, he told my sister and I many stories about how my parents met and about that little mission in that little border town. Between my dad's stories and my mother's speaking to us in Spanish, a desire to go grew in my heart. My parents nurtured that desire. My mother's bookshelves held stories of missionaries that I read over and over. While I attended a Christian school, I read and re-read the missionary bibliographies. I was fascinated by these people who heard a call, sacrificed everything and went. I wanted to go too.
As a teen, I had a subscription to Brio magazine. Every year, it came with a full-colour short-term missions insert. I read the descriptions with an aching heart. Each description filled me with a desire to go there, to serve there. My parents couldn't send me on their own, so we asked our pastor about raising support. Unfortunately, I attended a very conservative church that did not support anything outside of their particular group. After reading through the brochure, my pastor pronounced it a waste of money and if I wanted to see the world it could be done a lot cheaper than that. I was heartbroken. But the call of God didn't leave.
This call hasn't left yet. I still have this unspecified longing to go into the world and preach the Gospel. But this funny thing happened...God said no. We've tried to go at least three times on a short-term mission trip and each time God has said no. It's been frustrating. What makes it even more interesting is that my husband and I are full-time missionaries. We are commissioned by our church to spread the Gospel. Not only that, but we raise and live on support. We've tried to go overseas, we want to go overseas, but God keeps saying no. Instead, Steve works at the Canadian head office using his considerable tech talents for God's glory. So when I read this chapter about how we are all supposed to go, I struggled. Is God wrong? How can this be His plan for all of us to go when He won't let me?
Or maybe His plan for us is different. I live in a very multi-cultural area. It isn't as diverse as some of the bigger cities, but for this size of city, it's quite multicultural. Not only is this city one of six refugee settlement areas across Canada, it is also home to two major universities. People from all over the world come here for their undergrad, masters and graduate degrees as well as for post-doc studies. Because we live in inexpensive housing close to the university, many of our neighbours and friends at school are from different nations. Many are students, some are immigrants, some are refugees. We also live right near a major tech hub. Perhaps you've heard of the BlackBerry? Yeah, they make that here. Not only are the massive RIM headquarters down the street, there are also many high-tech companies and research institutes here including Ratheon and the Quantum Institute. Who works there? Well, people from all over the world.
At our very small school, there are over 30 languages represented. Among my friends, I know people from Russia, Israel, the Bahamas, the Philippines, Syria, Afghanistan, Eritrea, Somalia, China, Vietnam, Laos, Scotland, Australia and India to name a few. After meeting all of these wonderful people, it hit me that I could whine about how much I wanted to go into the world and reach others for Christ, or I could get off my butt and start reaching out to my neighbours. While some of my friends are here to stay, others will be going back to their country of origin. Most of those that chose to stay still have contact with their countrymen. What would happen if these people from all over the world came to Christ? What would happen if they were discipled, trained and equipped to spread the Gospel in their country in their language? Would this not be accomplishing God's great global purpose of spreading His glory throughout the earth?
I still want to go. The problem is I want to go everywhere. Well, that and that God keeps saying no. But He does seem to be saying yes to serving here. He even seems to be equipping me. Since I'm a member of a missions organization, albeit a member who hasn't been off the continent yet, I've gotten a lot of extra training. I've taken cross-cultural training, have sat in on discussions on engaging our world for Christ, and have even been able to attend a workshop on ministering to M*slims. As a member of this organization, I have access to some of the best misisional minds out there. If I need training, I can get it. Even as I type this, I'm starting to get excited about the possibilites of accomplishing God's great global purpose here. Like I mentioned last week, I'm praying that God will bring everyone connected with my school to Christ. Can you imagine the possibilities? I am excited to reach my friends with the Gospel with the purpose of enabling them to reach their friends, family members and people-groups. It could spark a never-ending chain of faith explosions.
The bottom line? Are all Christians commissioned to go into all the world and preach the Gospel? Definitely! But does this look the same for everybody? Probably not. Go then, discover your unique calling, and impact the world for Christ.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Shameless Plug
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.
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.
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