independence day

Five years ago in the middle of the night on July 3rd, Bryan and I woke suddenly to a smoke filled house. My heart fluttered in my chest as the adrenaline washed through me, and I rushed into Ruthie’s room to snatch her from her crib.

We quickly realized the fire was not in our own house, but in our neighbor’s house two doors down, and the smoke was drifting in through our open windows. But in those fleeting, disoriented moments, I thought we were about to lose everything.

The fire started from a bottle rocket that landed on the roof and smoldered for hours, set off by the teenager who lived there and his friends.

The next night that same teenager and his friends were out in the street lighting bottle rockets again, some of them landing in our yard. Baffled by this kid’s foolishness after setting his house on fire, Bryan went out to strongly encourage him and his friends to knock it off and start cleaning up all the trash they’d left lying around.

They mouthed off a little to him, but Bryan stands at over six feet tall, and he doesn’t mess around when it comes to taking care of the neighborhood. “This is our neighborhood,” I heard him say. “We live here – you live here. Your house burned down, dude. Clean this stuff up.”

His mother heard what was going on and actually came out to thank Bryan for talking to her son. She was a single mom and felt helpless that her son appeared to be hanging out with the ‘wrong crowd’ lately.

On another occasssion a couple years ago we woke up in the middle of the night when our next door neighbors got into an argument at 3am. “TURN OFF THE TV AND GO TO BED!” we heard through the open windows.

“NO!” we heard in response from a whiney teenager.

The arguing went around and around for several mintues, and when it died down I could still see the flicker of the tv light through the closed blinds.

A few days later the teenage boy and girl were sitting on their front porch with some friends, and i saw Bryan walk over to talk to them.

“I heard one of you yelling at your mom last night – it woke me up. Who was it?”

Their eyes dropped sheepishly to the floor, and the boy squeaked, “It was me.”

“You need to listen to your mom, dude. She’s your mom. I think it’s pretty reasonable for her to send you to bed at 3am.”

At this point the mom – who was also a single mom – came out to see who was on her front porch, and asked what was going on. Bryan was all, “Just having a conversation with your kids about listening to you when you ask them to turn off the tv.”

Her countenance softened and she said, “Thank you.”

On neither of these occassions – or others like them – was Bryan condescending in any way, but actually held these kids to a common sense standard. It’s risky to get involved with people, particularly those we live around and can’t necessarily avoid. But it seems like in these two examples the moms really appreciated Bryan’s intervention.

I wish I could say we went on to be great friends with our neighbors, and that Bryan became a mentor to these fatherless teenagers. But I can’t. We are polite, we chit-chat at the mailboxes, but I still spend the majority of my time hiding within the comforts of my own established boundaries.

I keep thinking about this article
by one of my favorite bloggers, Conversion Diary, about opening our lives to one another. Here is an excerpt:

When I was an atheist and hung out with mostly atheists and agnostics, the way we helped people was through controlled circumstances, systems that ensured that there was a clear line separating their lives from our own. We wanted — in fact, needed — our interactions with others to be safe and finite, with clear parameters on what we were expected to give.

This mentality makes perfect sense: after all, our biggest problems in life often come from other people. The more you allow someone else into your life, the more there’s the potential for them to screw it up. What if you adopt a child and they end up behaving badly and costing you tons of mental and financial distress? What if you mentor a troubled child and he ends up being a bad influence on your children? To use the example from that article, what if you’re very poor yourself and you offer to help a couple who has just become childless but they end up latching onto you and taking too many of your resources?

It’s too risky. The safest, most reasonable thing to do is to allow just enough people into your life so that you’re not lonely, and to carefully guard the intermingling of any other lives with your own after that point.

I can’t let go of the fact she describes the more closed behavior as something she observed from her atheist days. As a Believer in Christ I am to be defined by my love, yet I intentionally turn away from relationship most of the time because it’s too inconvenient.

Her post goes on to say,

But when you turn to God, you find that you have access to the very Source of infinite love, that, through him, you have more love to give than you could have ever imagined.

Most recently our family has befriended an 11 year old neighbor girl who loves to be at our house. She lives with her mom at her grandmother’s house, and there isn’t much going on there to excite an 11 year old. She would spend all day every day with us if we would have her, and frankly there isn’t really a reason why we couldn’t.

Except that quite often I’m not in the mood, or have time, or feel like it. But the truth is, the girl is a delight to be around, and I’m just afraid of opening my tightly guarded borders to unfettered access status. What if she wants to talk when I have Things To Do? What if she starts asking me advice about boys? What if … what if… what if?

It’s much easier and more comfortable to host crowded BBQs and planned play dates and to blog about living in community than it is to actually let myself be inconvenienced by others.

The Heart of Anger

“…God will not ask you to follow any biblical mandate without providing the grace and ability to carry it out.” – Lou Priolo, The Heart of Anger

The other day I watched a substitute mail carrier drive up to our cluster of boxes, tinker around, then drive away. When I opened the box I saw only the Netflix DVD I’d left there to be sent back.

Irritated I wouldn’t be getting my next movie when I wanted to, I called the post office to complain. Later that day as I was driving, the thought occurred to me that I was waiting for the arrival of another Netflix movie for the kids. Could it be possible the mail carrier took the old Netflix and left the new Netflix, and because we received no other mail it only looked like the old Netflix was still sitting in the box?

When I got home I rechecked the box, this time taking out the DVD to inspect it, and sure enough, it was a new movie. I immediately felt horrible and embarrassed that I’d called the post office to complain. I’d sprung into action quickly, and my folly bit me in the ass.

Everything I read about anger boils it down to this simple heart issue: it is a response to thwarted or delayed expectations – whether real or perceived.

In his book Cry of the Soul, Dan Allender writes:

Anger propels us into battle. It is a response to a perceived or actual injustice that attempts to destroy the wrong done to us. Whether righteous or unrighteous, anger triggers activity: Our breathing quickens, muscles tighten, eyes narrow and focus on the enemy…. Many of us make choices with an internal chip on our shoulder. Anger is an adrenaline that increases our courage to move in a world that seems to oppose our desire.

For me, this anger is triggered by even the most trivial things, such as the Netflix misunderstanding I described earlier, or the take-out joint sending home the wrong soup, or my kids waking up from their naps before my work is done. I will actually stew in my bitterness over such things, often to the point of my entire day being ruined because from henceforth on no one or no thing can give me back what I first wanted.

I’ve overcome many of these patterns of anger the last few years, but I still struggle. It’s “easier” to let my temper fly in the moment, and it feels “better” to release the mounting tension, while slowing down my brain to process through my disappointment and getting my adrenaline rush under control takes patience and hard work.

When I read the above Priolo quote it reminded me of this scripture:

1 Corinthians 10:13 (New International Version)

13No temptation has seized you except what is common to man. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it.

I don’t have to fall headlong into anger anymore – God promises this by way of being our defender, shield, and warrior. In the face of real or perceived injustice, scripture calls me to be still and wait on the Lord to bring justice:

Psalm 27:14 (New International Version)
14 Wait for the LORD;
be strong and take heart
and wait for the LORD.

Psalm 33:20 (New International Version)
20 We wait in hope for the LORD;
he is our help and our shield.

Psalm 130:5 (New International Version)
5 I wait for the LORD, my soul waits,
and in his word I put my hope.

heart of anger.JPGI’ve enjoyed a long respite from struggling with or thinking about my anger issues, but I’m realizing the absence of symptoms doesn’t always mean the absence of problems. Sometimes it means my circumstances haven’t provided the opportunity to practice overcoming them.

This has been a tough month, marked by stress, busy schedules, and a bout of depression to stir up a perfect pot of inner chaos. But as I notice many of the same patterns of anger in Ruthie that I’ve struggled with my whole life, I now seize the opportunity to help her build a tool box for addressing disappointment while dusting off my own tools and putting them to good use.

I’m reading the book, The Heart of Anger, by Lou Priolo, about dealing with anger in our children. Early in the book Priolo suggests parents read this book twice – once for ourselves, and then again for our angry child. I found this to be valuable advice, so I’m taking it slow.

Also, saw the doctor yesterday and and received some support for my adrenal hormones – this tactic always seems to take the edge off any depression and fatigue.

I feel hopeful that I’m looking at a peaceful, soul-searching summer, letting God fight my battles for me while resting behind his very big shield.

“renew my will from day to day…”

We sing this song often in our church, but it became particularly relevant during the five weeks Bryan was out of work. It often seems that stress begets stress, and things began to fall apart a little between us in that season. We pressed through and we’re all good now, but I wouldn’t change a thing even if I had the opportunity. Jesus took those really shitty circumstances and revealed areas of my heart that longed for things other than Him.

Anger and fear welled up in me as I began to feel like no one was on “my side” – lost friends, lost income, and at the time a husband who didn’t seem to understand me. I felt alone and discouraged and afraid of the unknown future. But Jesus revealed himself to me through his word and gave me peace so perfect I felt as if I floated through those days on the drunkenness of his holy spirit.

The sweet melody of this song and the lyrics of total surrender filled up that empty reservoir of peace each week, and I’m grateful to our faith community for producing such excellent music that refocuses me on Christ each week.

Here are the lyrics:

My God and Father, While I stray
by Charlotte Elliott

My God My Father while I stray
Far from my home and life’s rough way
Oh Teach me from my heart to say
Thy will be done

Though dark my path and sad my lot
Let me be still and murmur not
Or breathe the prayer divinely taught
Thy will be done

But if my fainting heart be blessed
With the Holy Spirit for its guest
My God, to thee I leave the rest
Thy will be done

If thou should call me to resign
What most I prize, never was mine
I only yield thee what is thine
Thy will be done

Renew my will from day to day
Blend it with thine and take away
All that now makes it hard to say
Thy will be done

Then when on earth I breathe no more
The prayer oft mixed with tears before
I’ll sing upon that joyful shore
Thy will be done
Thy will be done

Thy will be done (hosanna)
Thy will be done (Thy kingdom come)
Thy will be done (hosanna)
Thy will be done (Thy kingdom come)

Hosanna (Thy Kingdom come)
Hosanna (Thy will be done)

Thy will be done
Thy will be done
Thy will be done
Thy will be done
Hosanna (Thy Kingdom come)
Hosanna (Thy will be done)

trust

One of the most challenging insecurities I have is to feel misunderstood. Or related: to not be heard. Or a variation: to be heard and understood, but disagreed with.

I’m often so convinced of my rightness that if you could just understand what I was saying, if I could have the opportunity to restate my point from 42 different angles, then everything would be fine and you would agree with me.

Many times my rightness can be in question and I’m just a stubborn cuss. But other times I actually CAN be right, and that’s when my frustration builds up even more, turning to anger and bitterness.

These situations turn out to be agonizing, what with all the energy spent trying to be heard and understood.

But recently I’ve picked up on a very distinct theme in my studies: God can see everything.

Revolutionary, I know.

As I find myself feeling certain I know True Things, as I find myself arguing with others over these True Things, as I find myself pulling out my hair over these True Things not being perceived as True as I see them, I read some interesting stories in Genesis.

I read about Hagar, the pregnant maid who ran away when mistreated by her master, Sarah. She cries out to God in her anguish: “You’re the God who sees me!”

I read about Isaac, who had to fight Abimelech’s men for fresh water in the desert. God reassures him, “I am the God of Abraham your father; don’t fear a thing because I’m with you.”

I read about Jacob, who was tricked and swindled on many occasions by his own father-in-law. He submitted to the mistreatment until God said, “I know what Laban’s been doing to you. I’m the God of Bethel where you consecrated a pillar and made a vow to me. Now be on your way, get out of this place, go hom to your birthplace.”

I read about Joseph, who was kidnapped by his jealous brothers, sold into slavery, and thrown into jail for something he didn’t do. After his life was restored & he was reunited with his brothers, they feared his revenge. Joseph put them at ease: “‘You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives. So then, don’t be afraid. I will provide for you and your children.’ And he reassured them and spoke kindly to them.”

These are stories of men and women who experienced true oppression and injustice, who had to endure not just misunderstandings and disagreements, but lies, conflict, and abandonment.

Yet they trudged forward in obedience to their God, until God released them and took them in a new direction.

In reading these accounts, I felt great comfort that it is not always up to me to convince others of The Truth. I also felt great conviction that what The Truth actually is can often be distorted in my own mind. Submitting to these two realities removes the agonizing stress I was under – I am at peace because Jesus sees, and he knows the truth.

1 Peter 2:18-20 (The Message)

18-20You who are servants, be good servants to your masters—not just to good masters, but also to bad ones. What counts is that you put up with it for God’s sake when you’re treated badly for no good reason. There’s no particular virtue in accepting punishment that you well deserve. But if you’re treated badly for good behavior and continue in spite of it to be a good servant, that is what counts with God.

Hagar was just doing what she was told by her Mistress. Isaac was following God’s directions. Jacob was trying to woo a wife and earn a living. Joseph was a good son and a hard worker. None of them necessarily deserved what happened to them, yet each of them was comforted by God and avenged or restored.

In all of this, I continue to meditate on Colossians 3:12-14, which I wrote about here. This passage ties it all together for me, because in the end I need to Love others wildly and Trust God with abandon. I need to leave behind my sense of justice or fairness – my need to fix the situation – because Jesus sees it all, and cares for me through it, and sharpens my reliance on him in the midst of it.

I’ve said it before, but it continues to ring true: my enemy is not who I think it is. My enemy is not my misunderstanding husband or my unfair employer or the friend who betrayed me. My enemy is Sin, and I am just as sinful as my perceived enemy.

These days, when I step back and look at conflict in these terms – with compassion for those who hurt me, with contentment in being unheard, with quiet strength in my soul, with even-tempered and kind responses – I am able to imagine reconciliation. I am able to feel hope and can express love unconditionally toward those who’ve hurt me.

I can, because I see a future in which Jesus restores all that remains important.

Fits and Spurts

The times, they are a-busy.

(Doesn’t that sound poetic? More poetic than, Sorry I haven’t written in awhile?)

I have many thoughts brewing and several essays started, but I can’t seem to get my thoughts out just right. And I don’t mean ‘just right’ in the drafting sense of writing, but ‘just right’ in the way you wake up from a vivid dream that comforts you in those first fuzzy moments of wakefulness, then suddenly in the clarity of morning you can’t quite make sense of it enough to retell the story.

So here it sits in my mind for awhile, and in the drafts folder of The Pile. And it’s possible I may hold these thoughts close until a Different Time.

But life is good. I am at peace. My soul floats above the stress as it should in times of deep reliance on His word.

Perhaps this is why there is no urgency to post – the post is not the source of my peace right now, and that’s a great place for a girl like me to be.

Love: NEVER BE WITHOUT IT.

One of the patterns I’m trying to overcome as Jesus frees me from my massive control issues is my flight or fight response when I feel hurt or threatened. Most of the time I fight back, or at least obsess over how I WOULD fight back if only I had the balls. During an argument with Bryan I say something mean that I know will hurt him. If the kids are threatening my carefully laid out plan, I bark orders at them until they scatter. Even the puppy experiences my wrath when she acts like a puppy.

Sometimes I don’t fight back at all, but withdraw into myself, overwhelmed. This looks like depression – I wander through my house aimlessly, unable to focus on getting something done; I sleep in late and go to bed early; I quit doing things that re-create me (reading, writing) and daze in front of the television.

But neither fight or flight are redeemed responses – they don’t allow for the new ‘wardrobe’ God picked out for me to wear as described in this passage I meditated on during a recent tough week:

So, chosen by God for this new life of love, dress in the wardrobe God picked out for you: compassion, kindness, humility, quiet strength, discipline. Be even-tempered, content with second place, quick to forgive an offense. Forgive as quickly and completely as the Master forgave you. And regardless of what else you put on, wear love. It’s your basic, all-purpose garment. Never be without it.
-Colossians 3:12-14

I typically plot revenge by way of that perfectly cutting come-back. Surprisingly, and certainly not of my own doing, I find myself responding more and more with grace and compassion. This is a new feeling for me, this calm heart in the midst of spine-twisting stress. I can’t say I walk through these times consistently or perfectly (I still throw out a good tongue-jab on occasion), but I finally feel like I can see that train wreck coming from miles off. I may veer to a new track, or I may plunge full force into the crash, but at least now it’s a choice I make, a choice I own. The train is no longer running on auto-pilot.

ColossiansI don’t know what meditating looks like for you, but I meditate better when my thoughts can percolate in the background while I busy my hands with a mindless task, like folding laundry or washing dishes. My most vivid revelations come to me while shampooing my hair or running on the treadmill.

For this reason I posted the above passage on a piece of paper above the kitchen sink. I wanted it to dominate my thoughts during those mundane task-y times when bitterness and revenge usually creep into the background spaces of my mind.

As I meditated that week, I focused on each word or phrase and used it to redefine how I viewed my situation. This is some of what came to me:

Compassion, because I am not perfect or without fault. My fellow Man is not the enemy of me, Sin is. And we can empathize with each other’s weaknesses and fight the battle together.

Kindness, because being mean pushes people further away, which is the wrong direction when working toward reconciliation.

Humility, because maybe I’m not as right as I think I am.

Quiet strength, because I am my strongest when I can hear Jesus. I am my weakest when forcing myself to be heard.

Discipline, because I make rash decisions when I’m out of control. I speak before I think, hurting the ones who hear me.

Even-tempered, because trust is built when others know what to expect from me.

Content with second place, because what good is ‘winning’ if I’ve trampled on hearts to get there?

Quick to forgive because unforgiveness turns to bitterness so easily, then controls all of me.

And regardless of what else you put on, wear love. Love is the default. My first response should be love. My first response is not about ME, or what I want, or how I feel, but LOVE for someone else. This is the ultimate example of Jesus – that above all else, he LOVED me, died, rose again, and took away the eternal consequences of my sin.

Never be without it. Never. Not even when I’m PMS’ing, or tired, or feeling justified. NEVER BE WITHOUT LOVE.

I always imagined this to be difficult, this idea of always wearing love. But I find that as I draw my confidence and acceptance from Jesus rather than others or achievements, I love supernaturally and despite myself.

books: poisonwood bible

Last month I read Barbara Kingsolver’s The Poisonwood Bible. I’d heard great things about her and about the book, and was intrigued by its plot summary. It proved to measure up to all I’d heard about it.

There were a few exceptions to the praise, however. I found some who saw no value in it, and some who cried “foul!” at the cliche Southern missionary pastor who sought to bend all of Africa to his will.

But that Southern pastor is precisely who I identified with the most.

Shocking, I know.

He’s the one you want to hate – the one who drives his family and an entire African village into the ground, the one who offends a culture and puts his family in grave danger, the one who never relents even when the end is neigh.

But if you strip away the specific circumstances he created and put his family through, what you are left with is a man who was lost if not in control of his own destiny.

Nathan the preacher had a worship dysfunction.

And really, don’t we all?

Don’t we all have our little idols to comfort us? To give us courage? To get us through? Don’t we all mold Jesus – just a little bit? – into something we want him to be? To do for us? Don’t we all?

As the story unfolds – and I’ll warn you now of the spoilers lying ahead – the reader and Nathan’s family simultaneously discover their missionary trip to the Congo was not only ill advised, but forbidden. During a time of political unrest, most Americans and Europeans were fleeing the country. But Nathan, a Southern Baptist preacher with four daughters forged ahead with his plan to baptize the savages despite warnings against doing so by the missionary organization he claimed to represent.

Nathan continues to insist the villagers get baptized, despite the translator’s tip regarding crocodiles in the river, despite Nathan’s misuse of a local word which translates literally, “Jesus is the poisonwood” – a wood that, when burned, will kill you if the smoke is inhaled.

Then one day, after a long drought in the land, it rains. It rains on the same day one of his daughters is laid to rest. While the villagers mill about, saddened by the loss but joyful in the rain, Nathan touches each child on the head, baptizing in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.

The picture of this scene is forever engraved on my mind. I will never forget the vision I have of the maniacal man in denial of his own defeat, who mind-tricks himself into believing he’d fulfilled his destiny while the remains of his family marches off into the jungle, deserting him.

Throughout the story I tracked with Nathan. I understood him – his need to push through, to ignore, to stay on course because dammit that’s the course he’d set.

I tracked with him through the lies, the denial, the rage, and through the pressing down of those who loved him most so he could rise to the top.

I am Nathan.

I watched in horror as the consequences of his actions played out, imaging my own children hating me, my own husband deserting me, my own reality deceiving me.

The Poisonwood Bible woke me up. It got my attention. Like the ghost of Christmas future it revealed a logical outcome of my tight-fisted will.

It was a beautiful book. But even more, a beautiful revelation.

Friday Link Love

Link Love Badge

Trusting God With Your Dreams – Conversion Diary
Oh, let me count the ways in which I love this post:
1. It’s about dreaming big, yet relinquishing control.
2. It’s about seizing the opportunities in front of you, yet relinquishing control.
3. It’s about finding joy in the unexpected and (say it with me) relinquishing control.

“…either I don’t really believe that God called me to do it, or I’m just not willing to truly trust and relinquish control and admit that it might not play out the exact way I wanted it to. I’ve realized recently that it’s the latter.”

Hope is precious during difficult seasons – Difficult Seasons
Jim found me first, though I can’t remember how. I think he commented on my blog. I really appreciate the theme of his blog, and the insights and encouragement it provides. For those just catching up, Bryan is currently between jobs. We’ve been here before, and I know we’ll be okay. Hope is alive, particularly in that spark that ignites our fire for each other. To me, maintaining that connection is second only to seeing the hope of Christ when traversing across the valley of an unknown future.

My hope is built on nothing less…

joe day twitter

Last night in our community group the question was asked, Why did Jesus humble himself and come into human history? There are so many ways to answer this question, but as I read through Job this week I am surprised to find much of his lamenting is a plea for a Savior to spare him from the wrath of God. This is thousands of years before Jesus is born, and even before Isaiah prophesied of his coming.

Here are the passages I’ve come across so far:

Why don’t you just forgive my sins
and start me off with a clean slate?
(Job 7:21, The Message)

He is not a man like me that I might answer him,
that we might confront each other in court.
If only there were someone to arbitrate between us,
to lay his hand upon us both,
someone to remove God’s rod from me,
so that his terror would frighten me no more.
Then I would speak up without fear of him,
but as it now stands with me, I cannot.
(Job 9:32-35, NIV)

If we humans die, will we live again? That’s my question.
All through these difficult days I keep hoping,
waiting for the final change—for resurrection!
Homesick with longing for the creature you made,
you’ll call—and I’ll answer!
You’ll watch over every step I take,
but you won’t keep track of my missteps.
My sins will be stuffed in a sack
and thrown into the sea—sunk in deep ocean.
(Job 14:14-17, The Message)

I’m reading through the Bible chronologically for the first time since high school. The story of Jesus is woven through time, even before time began (In the beginning was the Word…). Man’s need for a Savior began the moment we tried to be like God, and throughout human history this longing is the seed that births all great stories – both fiction and non fiction.

Seeing the constancy of Jesus behind me is breathing life into my understanding of Jesus now and renewing my hope for Jesus in the future. The bottom may fall out from under me, the walls may cave in on all sides, but Jesus set the stars in the sky, defied death, and still calls me by name.

That is what I hang my hat on today.

unfailing love

3-5 Time passed. Cain brought an offering to God from the produce of his farm. Abel also brought an offering, but from the firstborn animals of his herd, choice cuts of meat. God liked Abel and his offering, but Cain and his offering didn’t get his approval. Cain lost his temper and went into a sulk.

6-7 God spoke to Cain: “Why this tantrum? Why the sulking? If you do well, won’t you be accepted? And if you don’t do well, sin is lying in wait for you, ready to pounce; it’s out to get you, you’ve got to master it.”
(Genesis 4:3-7, The Message)

I’ve always read this passage with the emphasis on Cain’s inability to please God, wondering what hoops I have to jump through to make him happy. I still don’t understand why God rejected his offering, but today the emphasis strikes me differently. Today this phrase jumps off the page: Cain lost his temper and went into a sulk.

This completely changes the story for me.

How many times during the week do I lose my tempter and go into a sulk? I may not flop on the floor like a two year old, but my heart grows bitter and angry when circumstances prevent me from getting my way.

When my kids won’t leave me alone to read my book? Sulk. When my schedule fills up and I can’t write? Sulk. When my kids get sick and I have to cancel my plans? Sulk.

Enough sulk sessions in a row, and before you know it I’m spiraling into a depression.

When God speaks in verse 6-7, he does not address Cain’s offering and the reasons why he rejected it, he doesn’t address Cain’s actions. God addresses Cain’s attitude. He’s calling Cain out on his reaction. It seems the bigger issue to God is not what Cain does for him, but how he responds to him.

The NIV says it like this, “Then the LORD said to Cain, ‘Why are you angry? Why is your face downcast? If you do what is right, will you not be accepted? But if you do not do what is right, sin is crouching at your door; it desires to have you, but you must master it.'”

Cain has a worship disfunction. Like me, he places a greater emphasis on what he wants the outcome to be, and when it doesn’t happen that way, he sulks. He does more than sulk, actually. He allowed his anger to master him.

Cain had words with his brother. They were out in the field; Cain came at Abel his brother and killed him (Genesis 4:8, The Message).

Anger gone mad.

What struck me as I read this, is God’s unfailing love toward me. He doesn’t say, If you don’t do well I will turn my back on you, or If you don’t do well I’ll stop loving you, or If you don’t do well I will make you suffer for it. He says, If you don’t do well, sin is lying in wait for you, ready to pounce.

God loves Cain, and he wants him to do the right thing. He knows if Cain steps outside of his “circle of safety,” he’ll be consumed by his own anger. I am loved by a God who looks through my actions and knows when my heart begins to grow bitter. I am loved by a God who doesn’t turn his back on me, but warns me when I’m putting myself in danger.

Truth be told, my heart’s been clenched, tight fisted, closed for a long time – the heart of Cain. But I feel sobered by this, the logical conclusion of Cain’s story, and I am motivated by God’s love as He continues to pursue me.

Motivated to change the way I react when circumstances don’t go my way: No more sulking!

Deserter or Disciple?

“From that time many of His disciples went back, and walked no more with him.” John 6:66
When God gives a vision by His Spirit through His word of what He wants, and your mind and soul thrill to it, if you do not walk in the light of that vision, you will sink into servitude to a point of view which Our Lord never had. Disobedience in mind to the heavenly vision will make you a slave to points of view that are alien to Jesus Christ…. When you find that a point of view in which you have been delighting clashes with the heavenly vision and you debate, certain things will begin to develop in you – a sense of property and a sense of personal right, things of which Jesus Christ made nothing.
-Oswald Chambers

I read this from Chambers’ My Utmost for His Highest this morning, and it struck a note. Over the years I’ve come to disagree with much of Chambers’ theology as I’ve become more reformed in mine, but he is still filled with nuggets of wisdom.

The verse Chambers quotes from John 6 refers to the occasion in which Jesus draws a line in the sand. He declares he is the Son of God, the Bread of Life, that anyone who believes in him will have eternal life with the Father. When many of the disciples heard this, they said it was a “hard teaching,” and deserted him. When Jesus asked The Twelve Disciples if they also wished to leave, Simon Peter said, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We believe and know that you are the Holy One of God.”

I like the way Chambers puts it – you will sink into servitude to a point of view in which Our Lord never had. In other words, when I disagree with or lose sight of Jesus – his hope, his truth, his vision, his healing, his rest, etc. – I will fall captive to something else, and it will not be beneficial to me.

I think of my anger, which comes from my selfishness and need to be in control. When I think only of myself, I become angry at others who thwart my comfort. When I set aside my perceived needs and desires to follow Jesus, I take on his “point of view,” which is love, kindness, service, etc.

Reminds me also of Paul in Romans 6

Don’t you know that when you offer yourselves to someone to obey him as slaves, you are slaves to the one whom you obey—whether you are slaves to sin, which leads to death, or to obedience, which leads to righteousness? But thanks be to God that, though you used to be slaves to sin, you wholeheartedly obeyed the form of teaching to which you were entrusted. You have been set free from sin and have become slaves to righteousness (Romans 6:16-18).

Today feels like a New Day after several weeks of chaos and lack of routine. I feel refreshed and ready put my universe back in order – mind, body, and soul. Today, I focus on these words from Jesus’ disciples in prayer for the priorities of my heart to be set correctly –

“Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We believe and know that you are the Holy One of God.”

When have you felt like a “deserter?” How were you drawn back as His disciple?

Works for Me: Toyless Christmas

One of my epic fails as a parent is trying to dictate what kind of children I have. I spent all of Ruthie’s early years trying to find a toy – JUST ONE – that she would play with. I never had any luck with that. She always preferred my pots and pans over her toy kitchen, the pens from my desk over her crayons, and my kitchen utensils over the official Play-Doh utensils.

Birthdays and Christmas are hard. I want to buy them toys because it’s easy. The grandparents want to buy them toys because that’s what they love to do. But what do I end up with? A play room full of abandoned toys and a missing toy box.

That’s right, they play with the box.

Yesterday my kids played with a pair of wooden chopsticks from the local Pho restaurant for half an hour. They were drumsticks, they were door keys, they were pencils. Never did they take the chopsticks down to the $50 deluxe fisher price kitchen I bought for them off Craig’s list, and pretend to eat Pho.

The day before that they were entertained for the entire evening with one chopstick, the box from a case of canned tomatoes, and two plastic cups.

I know this probably means my kids are brilliant and creative, but I seem to be lacking this vision. I just want an object to be used FOR ITS INTENDED PURPOSE. Life must be ORDERED and CATEGORIZED.

Then one day I read this post on the PBS Supersisters blog. Here’s the excerpt that was my AH-HA moment –

1. Decide what kind of players (i.e. mess makers) you have. My kids tend to take one kind of toy out at a time and play with it on a grand level. If it’s tinker toys, there are exactly one million pieces and projects everywhere BUT they are all the same thing.

When Madeleine and Carter come over, all toys are fair game. Everything is integrated into the play. There are ropes tied to tinker toys, dolls sitting on tinker toy built swings, forts, stuffed animals with tinker toys coming out of their ears…etc. This is a different cleaning animal all together.

My nephew Ethan is completely uninterested with the tinker toys but has very happily dumped the toys so he can turn the box that held them into a car. Or maybe a sled to use down the stairs? Pure physical genius I tell ya.

All of these players might require different clean up habits.
1. We can tell Josiah and Jack they have to clean up the first mess before they take the next toy out.
2. I try to suggest a clean up sooner (after I know they have exhausted the resources) with Madeleine and Carter so we aren’t overwhelmed by a bigger mess tomorrow.
3. Ethan needs different resources all together. Plenty of “non-toys” available might curb the dumping or just go with it and pick up throughout the day. Dumping is a big developmental task requirement for some kids and calls us to parental surrender at times.

I know. Crazy, huh? THERE’S MORE THAN ONE WAY TO DO THINGS.

As I explore more of my own control issues, I’m realizing just how much I instigate the tension in our household. Instead of observing how my kids are wired and going with that, I’m attempting to dismantle and rewire them to my own liking.

Embracing who they are and facilitating their imagination has turned everything around. When they raid the kitchen drawer full of colorful kids plates and cups I tense up for a minute, thinking about how there will be no clean plates to eat lunch from. Then I remember God blessed me with two hands and the ability to use dish soap. I take a deep breath and happily watch them make a mess.

Works for them, works for me!

For other Works For Me posts, visit Rocks in my Dryer.

Choosing my battles unwisely.

Fathers, don’t exasperate your children by coming down hard on them. Take them by the hand and lead them in the way of the Master (Ephesians 6:4, The Message).

Last night at dinner Ruthie asked for a straw to drink her milk with. I said no. This triggered a chain of events that eventually landed her in her bedroom for a lengthy time out.

In the aftermath of the whirlwind, but while she was still in her room, I looked at Bryan and said, “Why didn’t I just let her have the damn straw?”

Bryan shrugged his shoulders.

It was a classic case of my arbitrary assertion of control, mixed in with a dose of laziness at not wanting to get up from the table again.

Solution for next time? Get my ass out of the chair and lovingly serve my daughter, OR put the straws where Ruthie can reach them.

Now it’s your turn: what are your parenting stories of epic fail?

Real Help

Psalm 3 (The Message)

1-2 God! Look! Enemies past counting! Enemies sprouting like mushrooms,
Mobs of them all around me, roaring their mockery:
“Hah! No help for him from God!”

3-4 But you, God, shield me on all sides;
You ground my feet, you lift my head high;
With all my might I shout up to God,
His answers thunder from the holy mountain.

5-6 I stretch myself out. I sleep.
Then I’m up again—rested, tall and steady,
Fearless before the enemy mobs
Coming at me from all sides.

7 Up, God! My God, help me!
Slap their faces,
First this cheek, then the other,
Your fist hard in their teeth!

8 Real help comes from God.
Your blessing clothes your people!

My Bible tells me this is a Psalm David wrote when he narrowly escaped death by his own son, Absalom. I am struck by the peace David expresses in the midst of the situation, peace enough to sleep. He trusted in God’s protection enough to rest, which then gave him strength to face the enemy “from all sides.”

The second thing I’m struck by is his willingness to let God be his avenger. He cries out for God to slap their faces, for God’s fist to hit their teeth. He doesn’t ask for an opportunity to kick some ass, but stands behind the power of God’s sovereignty.

And then he declares, “real help comes from God.”

My enemy comes from within – my selfishness, my need to be in control, my unrighteous anger. The battle against this enemy within is not for me to fight, and it is not for me to win. My battle cry should be to God, for him to put his fist through the teeth of my anger, to slap down my need for control.

Real help comes from God. When I try to help myself, I feel no peace and I get no rest. I only have stress and anxiety and tension.

Just this morning I was on a walk with my kids, and I caught myself obsessing over being in control. They were running, and falling, and getting wet and dirty, and I picked at them about staying on the path, about staying on their feet, about not touching this or that.

Until it occurred to me, “It’s drizzling out. It’s muddy. It’s wet. If I wanted them to stay clean and dry I should have stayed home.”

I’d read this passage less than an hour before our walk, and I sighed at how quickly I forget. And then I changed course. I prayed for God to ‘kick in the teeth’ of my need to be in control, I took several deep breaths, and I didn’t freak out when Thomas rolled around in wet sand.

I am so different than I was a year ago, two years ago. In times past I would ‘white knuckle it’ through stressful situations that triggered my unhealthy behavior – trying to will myself into doing the right thing, trying to fight my own battles.

I still do, at times, but much less often. And when I do give in to my anger, I’m much quicker to repent, and less likely to feel condemned. Psalm 3 comes to my attention like that really great song that shuffles onto the iPod just as you’re getting weary, the song that inspires you and gives you the motivation to pick up the pace again.

After a week of challenges and set backs, just when I started wondering if I’d changed at all, Psalm 3 kicked me into gear again.

A Moment Diffused Breeds Laughter

Reconciling with children is much different than with adults. When Bryan and I get into a fight, it often takes several long conversations to cover all the rabbit trails of baggage that manifested itself in the actual fought upon issue.

I get to explain my feelings. I get to lay down the foundation of how I came to respond the way I did. I (usually) get to bring closure to each and every point of contention.

Not so with children.

Their nanosecond attention spans do not make an exception for long-winded apologies. Their simplified reasoning skills do not grasp the complex nature of complex relationships. Often when I get caught monologuing, Ruthie will sigh and say, “You’ve been talking for a long time!”

Lately I feel like Ruthie steps off the bus ready to pick a fight. Like a passenger in a car fishtailing toward a tree on the side of the road, I brace myself for 3:30. Sometimes we miss the tree, sometimes we hit it dead on.

Today we wrapped ourselves around it.

If I don’t have something EXCITING, and DELIRIOUSLY FUN, and WILDLY ENTERTAINING waiting for Ruthie when she comes home, she becomes angry. Not just disappointed or whiny, but downright angry. Right there at the bus stop she’ll yell and stomp her feet and declare she’s never going home again. I’m so boring.

I understand her anger. It’s my anger. I gave it to her when she passed through my body. We like to get our way. We like to be in control. When she falls and skins her knee she cries dramatically, but then she throws something or kicks the ground. Stupid rocky ground! she’ll yell. Falling down means she’s not in control, and that makes her angry. I know this, because I made her. She is from me.

I lost my temper with her today. I feel defeated. Frustrated. Hopeless. Sometimes I feel like I’m raising a monster; sometimes a sweet angel. Sometimes I’m the one who’s a monster. My emotions and hormones can’t hold me intact as I bounce back and forth from moment to moment, first drawing her close, then pushing her away.

Today I happened to be hormonal, so I cried. Right there in front of her. I apologized for losing my temper, of course, and then I just started babbling about nonsense. I was mostly talking to myself – talking myself down off that cliff of despair. But she sat quietly and listened.

Ruthie looked sweetly at me with her round eyes and big cheeks, and then? She leaned forward and began to wipe my tears away with the bottom of her shirt. She was so tender, dabbing gently over each tear, wiping softly the trail it left.

I feel this could be one of our greatest moments of communication, a connection, a breakthrough. She is beginning to understand me, and I am able to tell her how I feel. It’s all going to be okay, just like when Bryan and I work it out.

Ruthie finishes dabbing my tears, and I smile at her.

She sits back in her seat and opens her mouth to speak. I think she is going to say something incredibly profound for a five year old (it’s been known to happen).

In her sweet, compassionate, kind voice, she says, “Can I have some chips?”