Choosing to Live

A friend's daughter recently experienced losing her boyfriend. It seems his interest in her was replaced by something or someone else. Understandably, my friend is going through the emotions that most mothers would under such circumstances. She grieves the loss of innocence. Her daughter was a young lady who had trusted easily. Would she ever be able to enter into a relationship without calculating the possibility of risk because of this breakup?

Unexpected questions occurred to me as I listened to my friend. Can we ever really choose to trust if we don't know the risk of a broken trust? For that matter, can we choose to love if we haven't felt the sting of loss? Can we choose to forgive if we have not experienced the angst of someone's sin against us?

I'm not trying to suggest that we aren't capable of such things if we haven't experienced emotional losses. As an example, when I became a mother, I was immediately engulfed by the emotions that are natural for new mothers. It didn't take losing a child to love the way a mother just naturally loves. Nevertheless, something powerful happens when we choose to risk in spite of broken promises, wounded memories, and long lost loves -- the kinds of things known not only to the intellect, but also to a pierced heart.

In the Scriptures, Paul taught that above all, three things hang around and just sort of continue to present themselves as possibilities to us: faith, hope and love. Interestingly enough, preceding that proclamation, he explained the futility of livng without them. Any good we could ever hope to achieve without these virtues, Paul warns is just emptiness manifesting in all its futility.

It begs the question, why would anyone choose to live in the throes of futility. Could it be because of the risk of choosing to believe? Choosing to hope? Choosing to give and receive love? Jesus warns us that trouble will come. But why must it come? The answer to this question is far more than my brain can wrap itself around. However, I am growing more certain that pain gives us the opportunity to choose. A heart broken is a heart that chooses. Sometimes the offense drives our hearts into a period of cold and harsh hibernation. Often we've made these choices long before our conscious minds can even understand there has been an offense. Sadly, in our oblivious state the essence of who we are is often rendered impotent of divine oomph.

The broken can also choose to trust. That scorned heart can embrace forgiveness. That lonely soul can determine to be loved, and to love in return. These are the possibilities that lead us out of futility and darkness and into the quality of life that so easily escapes us. Because of Christ, each and every troublesome offense comes bundled together with a lifeline to choose. When He submitted Himself to the Cross, He also submitted Himself to the Resurrection. His actions permanently removed the sting of death. Not just of physical death – but also the kind of death our hearts endure with each rejection, every offense, all of the trouble this world serves up.

God could have done it differently. Perhaps, if He was a bit insecure about being able to handle our pain, I imagine He could have worked it out fairy tale style with everyone living happily ever after. Yet as King David laments, we are certain to endure seasons of tears, though our joy will eventually come.

Scripture explicitly states that God is profoundly moved by our tears, so it isn’t a lack of compassion or concern that keeps Him from placing a divine ban on all heart attacks. We are left to assume then, that our tears must be important. Our choosing is important. Our hearts are important. This is, after all, the redemptive work that Christ made possible. The choice to live -- not just some day far away when we reach our heavenly home, but here and now. The choice to be the glorious men and women that God made us to be. King David cried out for God to reveal any damaging choices he might be holding in his heart. Why? Because he knew the futile existence that comes about by a heart that fails to choose these healing virtues.

The pain of this world can seem almost unbearable at times. Yet when the choice is made to continue to live life through the lens of redemption, we also receive a head start to the glorious rest of our lives. Instead of the sting of death, we are filled with the power of hope and faith and love. And we're reminded that we are truly alive.

Second Chances

I've recently had the pleasure of becoming reacquainted with some old friends. In many ways, it feels like a homecoming. The beautiful thing is, we’re discovering a depth of friendship we never had before. Life has been good to so many of these friends. Not that time has been without its share of loss and disappointment. Some of them bear heavy burdens. Most all of them realize they don’t have everything figured out. Yet in the midst of the brokenness, there is this ever-present sense of hope, humility, and strength. You know what I’ve discovered? They’ve become far more attractive and enjoyable than I remember them being before.

I’ve known and been a part of many broken relationships in my life. The kind that drain the life right out of you. I’ve had to understand that I am a physical, mental, emotional and spiritual creature, and that I need to nurture each of these entities of my life. As a matter of fact, I am quite needy, with all of these dimensions and facets making up my inner self. Yet neither friends nor my own striving can fulfill all that my soul requires. Jacob realized this as he wrestled with God at the place he called Peniel. So he refused to loosen his grip in that battle to experientially know God's love -- the kind that does not fail nor abandon nor reject. That was the blessing he sought over a life that up til then had been filled with emptiness. He had lived long enough, and wrong enough to realize that these things and more importantly, his place with God was worth fighting for.

God created us to love one another, bear with one another, and sharpen one another. Yet more times than not, we fall pitifully short in our ability to give and receive this type of interdependent connectedness. It won’t always be so. With these renewed friendships, I am enjoying a season of second chances. It hasn’t been without acknowledgment of losses along the way. Yet this is a beautiful glimpse of what God has in store for us as we grow to relate in a rightful manner to God, to ourselves, and to one another. The gifts of life and love are God’s prized gifts to all of us. Gifts we are desperate to receive. Gifts that we are able to share, once we truly have them ourselves.

I’m thrilled to be connecting with these dear friends. It feels like we’ve entered into something glorious and eternal. And that it’s not too late for second chances.

Anything But This

It’s easy to believe that when God is “in” something, there is a certain flow to the process. For instance, I recently read of a couple who wanted to purchase a larger home. When their current home failed to sell, their realtor suggested a “house swap” with the owners of the home they were looking to buy. Even though this process is often a complicated one, on this occasion the swap was a cinch. The happy swappers explained that they were Christians, and had prayed that if God wanted them to have the house, He would work out all the details.

I once heard an exuberant young coach proclaim God’s favor on him as the reason for his success as he prepared his unheralded team to play in the final four of the NCAA men’s basketball tournament.

I fear that too often, we mortals in our limited ability to perceive the divine, link earthly successes to our spiritual standing. Though I believe there is merit to belief in God’s favor and blessings, is it possible that we are prone to misinterpret many of life’s twists and turns, and what they mean on the grander scale of our eternal development?

We live at a time, and in a society that aspires to be most “kingdomlike.” With the advent of technology, we "lords" can know many things at the touch of a button (omniscience). We can reach most places within a few hours at most (omnipresence). If we need more money, we get a loan. No longer do we wait for the growing season to have fresh produce, we just purchase imported (infinitude). We’ve explored space, conquered diseases, and administered peace (sovereignty). The underlying message is that we can be anyone or do anything we want (self-sufficiency). But this is a false reality that we are reminded of on occasion, when the unexpected happens. Yet because of this cultural mindset, it is easy to compare God’s ways with these humanistic likenesses that are most familiar. The results of this tendency are very damaging. False pride, unfair and harsh judgment of those who don't experience tangible successes are two easy yet subtle dangers.

Even more cruel, it can leave some with the assumption that they have been rejected or abandoned, leaving them feeling hopeless and confused. That’s where I was for much of my life. You might say I was suffering from severe faith deprivation – I knew about God, knew that I should “be different” because of the life giving qualities of my salvation, but frankly, I wasn’t experiencing anything but my own self-perpetuated misery. A lonely place.

There was a turning point for me. After years of hearing nothing from those heartfelt “are You there?” cries, I finally heard Him answer. It didn’t change anything, yet it changed everything. I wasn’t alone, had not been rejected, and there was something to hope for. Why He allowed me to live so long questioning that, I can’t really say.

The first few months and even years of my newfound faith found me eagerly waiting. Surely success and respect awaited me, now that I'd experienced this positive change. I was a child of the King, subject to all kinds of blessing. For a while, whenever it rained, no matter how long or how hard, I never got wet! If I needed to be out, the rain would mysteriously dissipate only to restart with a vengeance as soon as I was back inside. This only fueled my confidence. God was on my side! What could go wrong?

What could go wrong? There are some residents up in heaven, living in the Faith Hall of Fame sector, who could give unimaginable answers to such a question. Torturous living conditions. Brutal treatment. Harsh judgment. (Before their heavenly ascent.) And they aren’t alone. Throughout the course of history, Believers have cried out in faith for relief and deliverance for any number of great difficulties, only to suffer heart wrenching silence. Jesus Himself, in the Garden of Gethsemane, cried out to the Father He knew and loved so well, “anything but this!” Yet He still trudged the path of the Via Dolorosa on His way to Calvary.

My own heart wrenching anything but this has left me desperate. In the form of a prayer, it spills into the room -- mysteriously frittering away into the walls and ceiling -- leaving me exhausted and lying in a heap. Sometimes, life feels inexpressibly hard, and the answers that we desperately hope for seem absent. However, there is no futility here. The rain may come, and the chill of that rain may seep into my very bones. Yet it cannot change the truth.

Somewhere along the way, faith has enabled me to rely less on my physical senses. The experiential knowledge of God's love and faithfulness has soothed a gaping wound in me. But that love doesn't always make itself obvious in the midst of the anythings. God has something in mind for us, something far greater than we, in our finite condition can conceive of. There's no mistaking -- finite and fleeting things are enjoyable. But God is developing within me an appetite for things that are more satisfying and enduring: the knowledge that nothing comes to me that hasn't been filtered by His hand, the peace of knowing that God is for me and He will never leave me alone, and the understanding that the best is yet to come. Armed with these truths, I can do anything -- even this.

The Unforgotten One

As the due date for our second child inched closer, I wondered, would I have another boy or a girl. Just like my family of origin, I envisioned raising my own son and daughter. Two years into raising my baby boy, all seemed well. Yet as I pondered raising a girl, feelings of insecurity settled over my rapidly expanding frame. Was I woman enough to raise a daughter? Translation: could I see to it that she would never feel insecure, abandoned, or rejected?

A few months later in a dimly lit hospital room, I had my girl. Insecurities be damned, I would rise to the challenge -- I had a daughter now, and she needed me. We named her Georgia, a family name. Those first few days were spent memorizing the sights and sounds of this new little life.

Over time, euphoric feelings gave way to the reality of new routines and challenges. Our family would grow to accommodate another addition. It wasn’t a person; rather, it was the disease of mental illness enveloping my son. Of course it could have been anything -- addictions, a broken home, death, violent crime, unemployment, or any number of devastating matters that impact individuals and families on a daily basis. For us, it was this.

And so it was, the son who first held the mantle of firstborn, would lose his grip, in many ways. And the one who was born a baby sister would take on that mantle. I can't begin to explain what a complex and delicate process this has been. Yet within the transformation I have discovered two strong and courageous souls who, by God's grace, continue to persevere in trying circumstances.

In the midst of the constant insanity that is our life, there is still that girl – the one I longed to have, the one I had so feared failing. Just a few short months from now, my baby will leave the nest. Time, playing out in slow motion, yet also passing at breakneck speed, has produced quite a gem. Georgia has grown to be a special young woman. It’s not that I feel she is superior to others. The Creator’s knack for producing incredible individuals is unquestionable. It’s just that I have so enjoyed watching this particular one grow and evolve into such a person of substance.

Eighteen years ago, I aspired to give Georgia a perfect life. I loved her instantly because she was my child. Today I must confess, I didn’t get it all right. But my love and admiration for this daughter of mine has grown – partly because that’s what happens to a mother’s heart. But right alongside of that, in the midst of a chaotic and challenged environment, I discovered a young woman who embraces change, disappointment and uncertainty. It wasn’t the life I envisioned for her, but evidently God did.

Did she feel forgotten when we were running on fumes? Does she feel overlooked when exasperation overrides my best intentions? This daughter I had, God is still making. Every twist and turn is worthy. More and more, I’ve become a spectator. And the image that is becoming ever clearer is spectacular and eternal.

I’ve gained an appreciation for even the difficulties of life, because it is in these places that grace, forgiveness and redemption are most deeply felt. These gifts are far greater than anything I could have ever given. They, along with my love, are always there for the taking.

New Facebook Group

"God will provide," the woman emphatically declared, after I told her (at her request) about my son's need. After all we'd been through, God's faithfulness was a fact I didn't doubt. However, her words felt like a hollow sound bite, not genuine caring.

This wasn't my first encounter with such a response. It's not that I wanted pity, but I do crave a more compassionate and authentic connection with my fellow brothers and sisters. I've met others who do as well. Join me at my new Facebook Group -- Faith in the Midst of Unresolved Prayers, Heartaches and Adversity. Perhaps we can grow together as we live and seek God in the hard places of life.

http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=595695440&ref=profile#/group.php?gid=46577479751&ref=mf

Looking For Answers

After seventeen months away, my son came home recently. At twenty years of age, most young adults are beginning to practice the skills of adulthood, independent thinking, and discovering themselves in new and exciting ways. Joe is not so fortunate. He wasn't away at college or vocational training. He was receiving intensive therapeutic care for serious mental illness. Sending him there was a difficult and costly decision, but his father and I so want him to have a chance at living his God-given life. Yet after all those months, Joe remained virtually paralyzed in his ability to live.

Because of his mounting frustration there, the decision was made to bring him back home to locate a local supportive living environment for him. Five weeks in, the results of my efforts at finding such a place are most discouraging. Waiting lists are everywhere. Many homes have closed due to safety compliance issues. Other homes have poor reputations when it comes to adequate supervision and protecting the residents. What in the world is a family to do?

Filling his daytime hours is another challenge. Joe isn't stable enough to work, go to school, or maintain any sort of routine on his own. He longs to matter, to do something of value, and to belong to something bigger than himself. Yet in his paralyzed state, these remain lofty ideals. A mind that is broken is a heavy burden. One that he carries, and one that his family also carries. And there are so many questions.

We aren't alone. There are other families searching and praying that they too will find that open door that will lead to some quality of life for their sons, daughters, brothers or sisters. Mental illness is as devastating as any major illness, yet it brings a unique set of challenges. Medication and sound professional care, though often hard to find, are welcome assets in these types of illnesses. Yet there is so much that can't be fixed or managed, leaving many families, ours included, desperately looking for answers.

Grieving the Pain of a Dream

When I was younger, more than anything in this world I wanted to have a family. That dream came true when I married a man I loved and was blessed with a son and daughter. Then some sort of time warp occurred, because I've now been married twenty three years, my son is twenty and my daughter is on the brink of high school graduation.

Family has enabled me to know both joy and heartache as I never imagined. It has also led me on a journey I hadn't anticipated. As my son's life has taken shape, one of the forces attempting to define him is mental illness. Sadly, the older he gets, the more difficulty he has surviving this harsh world.

In the past few months, my son has become increasingly distraught at his inability to achieve the life that he wants. His broken mind complicates matters by distorting his reality, and thrusting him into various states of futility and anxiety. He is often misjudged, belittled or placed in situations which are unsafe for him because of ignorance about his condition. As I watch him stumble and cry out for relief and hope, my own pain mounts.

Presently we are grappling with difficult decisions about his future. We have exhausted every avenue that is presently available in hopes of relieving this needy soul of the paralysis that robs him of the quality of life and peace most of us take for granted. I am most unsettled by the idea that his life seems filled with so much limitation. In my heart, I know that we are all limited creatures, empowered to live only as the God of this universe enables us. I know that the world that we humans have attempted to make our own is not nearly so real as those things which remain largely unseen -- the divine and eternal true reality. I know my understanding of my son's pain and illness is limited, and because of that, I am most thankful that God knows perfectly. So even in the midst of my grieving, I grieve in faith. But I grieve nonetheless.

I grieve the life that feels lost. I agonize over the choices we must make to provide adequate care and safety for him. I ache that my son's faith -- though true and deep -- is not as clear about the matter of his own life, about how he feels abandoned, alone and forgotten. I mourn these things because I can't take them away, can't relieve his pain, can't calm his breaking heart. The dream from long ago clouded by the reality of a broken soul that I can't fix.

There is comfort in knowing that I do not grieve alone. Encouragement warms my spirit as I recall the story of Jesus with Mary and Martha. At the death of their brother Lazarus, Jesus was moved to tears at their broken hearts, even as He prepared to command life back into Lazarus' bones . Somehow, knowing that encourages my hurting heart.

Apricot Ginger Tea with a Slice of Romance: Part II

I have a confession to make: I long to be swept off my feet. Pair that longing alongside the fact that I'm married to the man I love, and the result can sometimes be confusing, to say the least.

Just surviving marriage in the midst of raising a family including a special needs son, with enough left in the love tank to even care about one another is a bonus. We are two very different people when it comes to relational styles. Yet in spite of our differences, despite periods of disillusionment, and in the midst of what has become a callous world, I find myself wanting more than survival -- and I believe he does too.

The dance of intimacy is scary. You see, I am a clumsy dancer. Brian isn't a natural at it either. But we are learning that if we engage in this dance, we stand to experience deeper levels of honesty, joy, forgiveness, grace, compassion, and love. If we choose to dance through pain and uncertainties instead of around them, or instead of turning away, the door is opened toward more intimate and real connection. In this deeper place of knowing and being known, I long to discover a better balance of romantic love.

Apricot Ginger Tea with a Slice of Romance: Part I

Brian, my husband took me out on a date earlier this week. Bringing me flowers and taking me to dinner, he later asked if the evening was romantic. The meal was very good, and I discovered a delicious apricot ginger iced tea which I had with a twist of lime, but truthfully I didn't feel particularly romanced. This led to my own inner questioning: How could I answer truthfully without hurting his feelings? Why is romance such an elusive element in this nearly quarter of a century we've been married? Why am I so hard to please? Is Brian doomed to feelings of ambivalence because of my notions of romance? What exactly is romance?

I haven't turned up much substance in any published matter, only romantic suggestions, reminder lists and formulas which fail to excite the idealist in me. Turning to the basics, I researched definitions using Internet resources, where I discovered that romance is defined by intimacy, purity, mystery, excitement, imagination, impracticality, and passion. Based on these ideals, true romance actually exceeds the limits of the natural mortal! To flesh that out a bit more, notions of romance involve:

*ongoing levels of intimacy where individuals in relationship feel known
*partners who possess the ability to persuade, delight and arouse admiration, excitement and the emotions
*a love that is free of pollutants that inhibit one's ability to love wholly
*well executed and imaginative ideas
*elements of mystery

To romance one's beloved means to endeavor to gain someone's affection -- on an ongoing basis! By its very nature, it is impractical and unrealistic. A romantic love is dominated by idealism, a desire for adventure and chivalry. It is characterized by passion, enthusiasm and a dogged determination to love.

Romantic love is not a cognitive action, but rather, an affective/ emotionally charged action. However, the effect of such an action can be observed in an analytical way -- such as an electron when it becomes excited it is then promoted to a higher than normal state. This is something Brian can sink his teeth into -- a scientific reference point! Anyway, if romance is the means to increase the potential and promote our love and life together, I'd sure like a better grasp on this mystical endeavor.

to be continued

Election 2008: A MOMENT IN TIME FOR AN AMERICAN BELIEVER

This is the day which the Lord has brought about; we will rejoice and be glad in it.

Psalm 118:24 (Amplified Bible)

Today is a new day in the history of our country. Barack Obama has been elected to the office of President. For too long the consequences of racial sin have troubled this nation, undermining her integrity, impacting the lives of countless families, and rendering the lives of many individuals insignificant. With this election, the wall of prejudice has received a mighty blow.

There is a hitch to this feel-good moment: many god-fearing citizens are concerned. I was reminded of this reality just after I cast my vote. As I exited the poll, a friend told me about the people she knew to be praying about the outcome of the election. Her own belief is that our nation would, by virtue of the winning candidate, receive either God’s wrath or His mercy – not because of the color of the candidate’s skin, but because of party affiliations, stances on guarded Christian precepts, and other key issues. It was a classic example of the religious right versus leftist politics.

The temptation for many faithful believers from this day going forward, will be to feel that the values of the kingdom have been set back, that we have lost ground, and that our nation has been given over to experience the consequences of faithlessness. This would, I feel, only serve to promote feelings of antagonism, despair and fear.

These are troubling times. However, I do not believe that the body of Christ – the church – lost anything last night. I believe we gained an opportunity to take a humble, loving and active role in the very hope we long for on behalf of our nation. Consider what Tavis Smiley asked for last night as the world watched the election coverage:

Barack Obama has just become an iconic international figure. There are a lot of pluses and minuses to that – there’s a lot of pressure to live up to that iconic status. My prayer tonight for Senator Obama is for his soul that he doesn’t lose it – that he doesn’t sell it – that he doesn’t surrender it – that he holds on to the core essence of who he is. The pressure on that kind of figure – I don’t think we can imagine.

NBC Special Election Coverage

I am reminded of the Apostle Paul’s desire for the church:

It is so important that you pray about the needs and wants of all individuals, because each one of us is limited, prone to sin and make mistakes. Try to ascertain God’s heart for your fellow man, while also attempting to value them and just plain old “get” them. You won’t be able to change them, but you’ll find as you intentionally tune into others, your attitudes about them will be changed, and your heart will be filled with thanksgiving toward God for the privilege of drawing nearer to one another in this way.

Pray also for governmental officials and those who are charged with positions of leadership and authority so that they can overcome their own limitations and rule well.

This very act of prayer will enable us to be about the business of discovering our own limitations – making way for humility. Humility lends itself to transformation, and our own lives become marked by the attributes of Christ, lending an irrefutable integrity to our lives. It is in this place, that our ability to influence the world around us increases substantially.

I Timothy 2:1-2 paraphrased

What if the goal is not for Christians to win the legal battle over abortion? Or win the right to publically display the Ten Commandments? What if it is not up to us to preserve the sanctity of marriage or even elect like-minded officials? What if today the call is simply to pray and to grow in our ability to relate to our fellow Americans honorably? What if today there is a President-elect who earnestly needs our humble and prayerful support to navigate the certain challenges, dangers and demands he will be faced with, in ways that no President before him has? What if today, we have been gifted with an opportunity to reap the benefits of our own growing faith?

We prayed for this election. God has given us an opportunity. Can we now resist the temptation to lean on our own understanding, and instead trust that the Lord is big enough and good enough to do over and beyond what we could ever imagine? It just may be that this new day is more glorious than we can even fathom.