I Built a Shell

I've been hurt.

I take things too personally.  I get too emotional about things.  So to keep those things in check--to keep from being hurt--I hold people at arm's length.  I hold the world at arm's length.  I first started noticing this about myself when the parenting of my strong-willed-child got really tough.  I realized one day that I was becoming apathetic toward this child in order to protect myself from emotional pain.  You see, I'd built a shell around my fragile emotions, in order to keep them safe.  Or maybe to keep from feeling them so strongly.

I don't think it is an exaggeration to say that my life over the past six years has been a roller coaster.  I put my husband through grad school (a second time) and took on the mantle of single parent for the duration of that program.  Upon completion of the program, and because he couldn't even get an interview for a full-time position, I continued to wear that cloak for an additional two years while he pieced together a salary and therefore rarely made an appearance at home.  Once he landed a job, we decided to uproot our family and move to be closer to that job.  His decision to pursue that second grad degree brought with it financial repercussions.  The financial strain brought family strain, both within our home and from extended family members.  All the stress and strain was so much pressure.  Too much pressure.  I remember wondering in the back of my mind, "How much more is God gonna throw at me?  I am at the end of my rope!"  The few words I've put in this paragraph simply cannot describe how squeezed and smothered and pressured I felt.  Day in and day out.  For six years.  And throughout those roller coaster years, my protective shell grew thicker and thicker. 

I've been looking back on that time, nursing feelings of thankfulness that I survived.  "Thank God I survived."  I questioned all along, and desperately questioned in the final eighteen months, why God was not answering my prayers to be rescued.  And I still don't have an answer to that... 




My mother is Negative Nancy.  Trust me when I say she has the market cornered on negativity.  And, she holds grudges.  She's held a grudge against her dad since she was elementary school aged, and all because she believes he favored her younger sister.  Maybe he did.  I wasn't there, so I really don't know.  But I do know this:  She wasn't abused; she wasn't molested; she was raised by people who loved her and cared for her needs; they taught her to love and serve Christ, and equipped her to be a productive member of society.  Yet, she holds this grudge against her dad.  I recently described this behavior of hers as "wearing her woundedness like a badge of honor."  And I condemned this behavior. I said, "Do not let these things define your sense of self, and how you live and view day-to-day life.  These events are not who you are, but things that happened to you.  Learn from them.  Don't use them as an excuse to live a crippled and limited life.  Instead, live the free and love-filled life that Christ died to give you!"


Today, I now realize that my behavior has been no better than my mom's.  I've been wearing "survival of the roller coaster years" like a badge of honor.  I think I've been trying to convince myself  that "surviving" that strenuous time in life made me a better person.  But I'm not a better person.  A better person wouldn't resent her husband for those years of stress and turmoil, but rather honor him for the sacrifices that he made in the hopes of creating a better life for his family.  A better person wouldn't hold a grudge against her heavenly Father for not answering those pleas to be rescued from an unpleasant situation.  A better person would count her blessings, would consider it a compliment from God that He tested her to such an extent, and would never lose sight of the fact that He's faithful and loving and good.

Oh, I haven't lost faith in Him.  I believe.  I haven't abandoned my centuries-old faith in our kind and powerful God.  I still want my life to be a testament of His greatness.  I want my life to be a song that glorifies Him.  Sadly, that desire wasn't apparent to the world around me throughout the roller coaster years.  It was hidden behind the shell I'd built to keep the hurt at bay.  I was so focused on being strong all those years that I failed to let God shine through my weakness.  I was so determined to keep it together that I failed to let Him be the thing that kept me from falling apart.  I was so afraid of failing my family and failing in life that I failed in my faith.


So I close with these questions...

Is it sinful to build a shell around your emotions, in order to protect yourself and deal with life?  Or does God call us to leave ourselves open to the world and the potential damage it will bring, so that when we're hurt He can bind our wounds, heal us and return us to full strength? 

Have I sinned by stuffing all the hurt and sadness and grief as far down as I could possibly stuff them?  And, did all the positive emotions get crammed down with the negative ones?  Will there have to be a day (or year? or more?) of reckoning with those emotions in order for my life to become that song of glory that I truly believe He created me to sing? 

I sure don't know the answers.  But I think a good start is break the shell.  To shed the badge that touts "survived a world of hurt."  And instead find and don a garment of love, and forgiveness, and openness, and gratefulness, and praise, and hope.   

Crumbs

It seems all I do of late is separate fights.  My children fight all the time.  Add to that the spats of our two canines and folks can just call me referee.

Tonight my dogs were fighting over some territory... the licking-crumbs-from-the-dishwasher-door territory.  Their three-minute-long growling match caused me to wonder how often my spiritual behavior resembles this bickering.

Perhaps I'm not fighting with another brother for crumbs from the Master's table (Matthew 15: 27), but am I coveting the crumbs thrown to someone else?  Am I wishing for different or better tasting crumbs?  If I'm honest, I must confess "yes."

Satan has convinced me that I deserve more, or better, and that the desires of my heart are well within reach.  And the truth is, none of us has the guarantee of tomorrow, let alone a better tomorrow.  The dog fight I just witnessed convicted me that I'm doing a poor job of thanking God in each and every situation in which I find myself, and convinced me I have a lot of ground to make up.

Lord, forgive me.  Please strengthen me as I work to silence the voice of Satan and of this world.  Comfort and guide me as strive to make Your voice the only one I listen for.

Another Spiritual Lesson Learned from Parenting

My daughter attends a half-day pre-Kindergarten program.  She came home today in a very happy--and hyper--mood.  She was pretty much bouncing off the walls.

After lunch, she asked if I would paint her nails.  She's been asking for awhile, so I felt it time to comply.   We retrieved all the necessary items, and then set to work.  Oh me, oh my.  If you've never tried to paint the fingernails and toenails of a hyper, almost-five-year-old girl, it is an experience, let me tell ya.  "Be still."  "Stop wiggling."  "Hold your hand still."  "Stop moving."  "Be still."

"Be still" was the most common thing I said throughout the process.  As she was incredibly hyper, I had to say it many, many times.  But nearly the last time I said it, a thought occurred to me.

How many times do I ask God to do something for me--to go in and "dress up" (so to speak) some part of my heart--and then not receive the full benefits of the "dress up session" because I refuse to be still.  Because I won't turn off the TV.  Or leave the laundry for later.  Or remove the ear buds while I walk.  How many times have I prevented myself from reaping the full benefits of God's amazing, life-changing power, simply because I avoid stillness?

Lesson in Humility

My husband and I have been experiencing a rough patch, financially speaking.  Our kids haven’t missed any meals, which, I know, some folks worry with daily.  But we’ve delayed many bills.  Several are sorely past due.  And we’ve had to take some fairly drastic steps recently, for which we’ve heard our fair share of criticism.

While taking these drastic steps, several kind souls stepped forward insisting they help or get us help.  And while we know that there are folks out there who are in much worse circumstances than us, we really needed the help.  So we choked down our egos and accepted the help, gratefully.

I’ve never really been in this situation before.  I mean, money has been tight before, and God was faithful and somehow we just made it through.  This time, money was tighter than it ever had been, and expenses kept coming but the income just wasn’t there.  And God was faithful once again.  Through some folks who care about us.

And I’m finding that it is very difficult to look these people in the eyes right now.  Because I’m not really certain that they know what they’ve done for us.  Their help, or getting the help, has prevented stress and worry and creditors knocking and utilities being shut off.  And the help means we’re actually going to get by.  I’m not sure they know how much they’ve helped.  They completed a sort of financial bridge for us.

So I’ve been wondering…. Why don’t I have this same sense of humility for what God has done for me?  For cleansing me from my sins?  For bridging the great divide between Him and myself?  Has my knowledge of this saving grace become common place to me?  Has it become less valuable to me?  I should have the same humility, the same gratefulness, as I do to these folks who helped us in a time of great need. 

Because we wouldn’t have made it by without them.  And I won’t make it home without HIM.

Longing

Tonight I have this ache and longing in my heart.  An ache for home.  A longing for Heaven.

God blesses me.  Again and again.  Yet, the rottenness of this life seems to be gnawing at me lately.  A friend from college buried her young sister-in-law today.  A family in my church is grieving the death of their not-yet-two year old nephew last week.  My good friend's dad is dealing with crippling pain.  Two of my loved ones have serious faith struggles.

And I... Well, it sounds fickle to say it now, but I have a challenging child.  I don't care how many people tell me his behavior is "normal," nothing about our relationship feels right or normal.  And while I'm certain that God plans to teach me many things throughout the life of this child, tonight, his behavior has me aching for home.  For Heaven.  For the place where we can co-exist without pre-pubescent attitude, without his determination that I favor his siblings and hate him, without the anguish that parenting him brings.  I long to look into the eyes of my Heavenly Father and hope to hear Him say, "You did well with what I gave you."

I suppose in the grand scheme of things, this does seem petty.  After all, my son has a healthy mind and body.  He has a compassionate spirit and the will to lead.  I hope and pray that God will use him for mighty things one day.  But I hope and pray equally that God will equip me to not fail my son.  Or Him.

When Hope Becomes Grief

Parenting is a huge chore.  It will Eat.Your.Lunch.

I've recently taken part in a study on parenting.  Not the first time I'd studied those tactics, but a refresher is not always a bad thing.  I decided to try to implement some of them.  And it is hard.  So challenging to stop yourself in the mid-stream of your parenting habits to try a new approach with your willful and usually disobedient child.

Well, things didn't go so well the other night.  I felt--and still feel--like I handled the situation quite well.  But the experience wasn't pleasant, by any means.  I told my husband about the evening when he came home.  This "report" led to a huge fight, putting us at odds over parenting tactics.  Another unpleasant experience.  And the next morning, we receive word that the job we've been hoping for over the past three months isn't going to become a reality.

I've been living with a three-fold hopefulness:  "Parenting isn't easy, but maybe these new tools will help."  "Our marriage has really taken a beating this past year, but things seem to be getting better."  "If this job becomes a reality, we won't have to move, I can keep my job, etc..."

In the span of just fifteen hours, I was grieving the loss of all three hopes.  I felt like someone punched me in the gut and then pulled the rug out from under me.  And I was all about the pity-party, for most of the day.

I happened to run into an older gentleman, and he commented on my countenance.  He and I are acquaintances; we're friendly, but not really friends.  For some reason though, when he asked, I told him about the storm I felt I was in.  He responded with empathy.  But also pointed out for me a fact of his life that threw everything about my "grief" into perspective.  Suddenly, a day that was gray held new sunlight.

I regret that I pouted.  I regret that I didn't respond with "Okay, Lord, no problem. I trust that You know what You're doing."  I regret that I don't better model Christian citizenship to my children and husband.


Lord, you are my shelter.  Your greatness is a mighty comfort to my heart, whether it is broken or blessed.  Thank you for convicting me in this behavior, and help me to draw closer to you the next time my hopes get dashed.  Let me not forget that you will never disappoint, for the best and greatest hope I have--Heaven--will never turn to grief. 

Another face-palm moment

How many parents out there are tempted to say “I told you so” to your kids?  I’m going to assume there is a fair amount.  I can’t be the ONLY one.  Well, Saturday brought one of those moments to me.  I had told my son to put on his shoes and go play outside.  He got part of it right—he went outside.  However he didn’t put on his shoes, and it ended in injury.  His toe met with wood, and the result was a fairly large splinter deeply penetrating the bottom of his big toe.  And oh the drama that followed.  Wailing.  Tears.  Yelling.  Screaming.  More tears. 

I tried to proceed into treatment mode.  “We need to get it out.  Your toe will feel better if we get it out.  It will hurt for a little bit, but then it will be all better.”  More crying.  He sees the needle and tweezers, and that brings even more drama.  He cradles and holds his toe while weeping.  And no amount of explaining to him what needed to happen would convince him to let me proceed.

And SMACK.  A big smack.


How many times has God (or His Spirit) tried to convince me to just give up my sins?  How many times has He whispered to me “Just give it to me.  Let me take it away.  It might hurt a little bit now, but you’ll be blessed all the more in the end.”  So why don’t I let him?  Why do I hang on to my sins?  Why do I cradle them and, I daresay, nurture them?  Why?


Why don’t I “confess my sins to others and pray for others so that I may be healed” (James 5:16a)?  “I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out.” (Romans 7:18)  But, “If I confess my sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive me my sins and purify me from all unrighteousness.” (1 John 1:9)  I must strive more diligently to “Let the Word of Christ dwell in me richly.” (Colossians 3:16a)  And maybe I’ll get to the point where I’ll gladly let Him come in with needle and tweezers and pluck out my jagged, painful sins.


You know, now that I think about it, I’ve never heard Him say “I told you so.”  What a perfect and amazing God we serve.

The Allure of Something Better

We're all familiar with the saying, "The grass is greener on the other side of the fence."  In my life, in my heart, the allure of something better is Satan's playground.

It has taken almost 20 years, but I've finally realized that this desire for "greener grass" was what ended my first real dating relationship.  We didn't have problems.  I just wanted something else.  Something "better."  And I'm not saying that wanting something else is always a bad thing.  This boy and I weren't married.  We'd made no covenant to each other before God.  And, looking back on the relationship, I can also say that we were probably not a good match.  So, in that situation, it is a good thing that I wanted something "better."

But things are not great in my life right now.  I'm definitely not starry-eyed over the state of my relationship with my husband.  My brain is primed for Satan to come in and play around.  "If only I'd made a different choice when..."  "If only today I could..."  And the list of "if onlys" can get quite long.  The allure of something better is getting quite strong. 

I just need to start wishing for the right field of grass.


Dear Father, I continue to fail in so many ways.  I should have realized sooner that Satan was playing around with my pain.  I should have leaned on you more from day one.  But Father, I'm asking now that you please drive Satan away, and that you please show me that you are carrying me through this time, with all its trouble and hurt and pain.  I don't want to hurt or disappoint you, or my loved ones.  I want to be able to walk through this muck with my head held high, blessed to have relied fully on you.  Forgive me for the impure things I've been thinking and feeling, and for not completely honoring you in my heart and mind.  Please help me to focus on the hope of heaven, and of being in your arms one day, cradled and comforted and completely fulfilled.

Reasons to be Thankful

In case no one has noticed, my life isn't great right now.  In fact, I could describe most days as thoroughly crappy.  Even when my life isn't simmering in muck, this time of year typically brings sorrow and dismay for me. 

So, in an effort to wade through the crappiness instead of drowning in it, I have made a commitment to count my blessings.  For the next sixty-one days over at Dear Life, I plan to count my blessings.  And maybe by January 1, my outlook on life won't be nearly as dim.

Seeing Life in Black and White

During a conversation with some friends last week, I said something that, I later realized, could qualify as legalistic.  I don't like legalism.  It is stringent and stiff and backs you into a corner.  And I don't like being backed into a corner.  However, retrospect on this conversation is revealing to me that maybe I'm a legalist at heart.  I see the world in black and white.  I think I always have.  Growing up, when told to do something, I obeyed because it was the right thing to do.  On the odd occasion that I did break a rule, I was overwhelmed with guilt because I had done the wrong thing. 

Living life with this black-or-white philosophy can be quite challenging.  There are all these shades of gray, you see.  Two of my children frequently wade through these shades of gray.  And I've realized through the heartbreak of my husband's recent break from faith that he sees life in gray, rarely in black and white.

So what am I to do with all the gray matter that the world holds?  I'm sure there are many philosophical roads that this question could lead me down.  But it dawned on me today that I probably need to stop asking that question, and just start trusting that God knows what to do with the shades of gray.  And with my legalistic, black and white heart.

The Search for Significance

It seems to me that Americans are searching for significance.  Perhaps it is the generation in which we live, but the more I look around, the more I see people wanting to be known for something.  To gain notoriety from something they do.
Sadly, I am no exception.

Some events of the past month have started me wondering about the mark I'm leaving on this world.  Am I significant?  Am I making a difference in my life?

There's all the laundry that I wash and fold. The lunches that I pack daily. And the other meals I prepare or, at the very least, pay for. The shopping I do so that my family has food to eat. The cleaning--albeit little--that I do. The hair that I brush, the beds that I make, the bottoms that I wipe, the toys that I trip over and eventually put away.

The people that I work with and for. The phone calls that I answer and place. The words that I utter. The way in which I speak the words that I utter. The efficiency with which I do my work. The passion with which I prepare my work. The attitude with which I arrive at work. And leave work.

The amount that I pray, or don't pray. The amount that I study, or don't study. How little or much credit I give to God. How often I glorify His name. And tell others about His Son, my Savior.

All these things seem so very small and insignificant.  And so I tend to feel very small and insignificant.

But what I'm learning, and have to keep remembering, is that just because these things compose my daily life, they do not define who I am.  I have to focus on the fact that I am a child of God, a fellow heir with Christ.  And if that isn't significance enough, then why on earth am I even getting out of bed each morning? 

Thoughts from a Tenth Anniversary

The world changed ten years ago.

My brain consumed a barrage of media reflections on Sunday.  Viewing footage and photos and interview after interview of people who escaped or lost loved ones that day.  It felt to me as though it just happened yesterday.  This horrible thing that one just can't wrap their mind around. 

It was a turning point in thousands of lives.

For me, personally, I watched the footage ten years ago wondering how people could unleash such hatred on fellow human beings.  While I'm sure others sat watching, wondering how a merciful God could let this horrible thing happen.

And so I wonder... For how many people was that day a turning point in their faith?  And was my husband among them?

Full, yet empty

Do you ever have times where you just feel emotionally numb?  I'm numb right now.  The last time I felt this way, I was spiralling into a deep depression that took weeks to come out of.  I'm determined not to go there again, and so I've been looking around for things to keep me afloat.  And boy did one smack me across the face last night. 

I guess I've known this about myself for some time, but, like I said, it hit me hard last night.  Check it out... Psalm 42:1-2, "As the deer longs for streams of water, so I long for you, O God.  I thirst for God, the living God.  When can I go and stand before him?" (NLT)  Smack.  And, ouch.  Have I ever longed for God to the extent that I desire food?  Or Dr. Pepper?  Or napping?  If I'm going to be honest, the answer is no.  I confess, my cravings for Dr. Pepper are WAY stronger than my cravings for God.  And I'm so ashamed of that fact.  I once read that "shallow efforts produce shallow results."  I'm learning that it is the mark of a mature Christian to put in strong, enduring, and passionate effort to come near to God.  And I confess... I'm immature.

So, this is my ongoing struggle.  To be filled up with God, so that I'm no longer empty.  And until I get there, I'll just keep trying to fill the hole with naps, ice cream and Dr. Pepper.  Or new clothes.  Or affirmation from others.  Or whatever I think will fill the hole at any particular moment.

Back to the numbness. 

I ended up reading all of Psalm 42.  Again... OUCH.  Verse four says "My heart is breaking as I remember how it used to be."  Yes, a very familiar feeling.  Part of verse six says "Now I am deeply discouraged..."  Also a familiar tune.  Verse seven says "I hear the tumult of the raging seas as your waves and surging tides sweep over me."  Again, I know the feeling.  Listen up to this stuff though...  Verses five and eleven, "Why am I discouraged?  Why is my heart so sad?  I will put my hope in God!  I will praise him again--my Savior and my God!"  And verse eight, "But each day the Lord pours his unfailing love upon me, and through each night I sing his songs, praying to God who gives me life." 

Each day the Lord pours His unfailing love upon me.  Even though I apparently love Dr. Pepper more than Him.  Even though I get caught up in a pity-party of the sad details of my life.  Even though some of my behavior denies that I even know Him.  He continues to love me.  He pours it out on me.  He wants to fill me up.

How blessed I am, even though it feels like Satan is peck-peck-pecking me to a breaking point.  I'm blessed to have a God who loves me.  Who cherishes me.  Who never tires and always listens to my complaints.  Oh, how very blessed I am.

Father, forgive me for losing sight of your love and blessings.  Forgive me for listening intently to the whispers of Satan and getting lost in the muck, when I should be holding tight to your goodness and hope.  I know that You'll provide, that You'll save, that You'll love, no matter how lost or low I think I am.  Please help me to remember that.  And Lord, please protect me from further attacks by Satan.  Run him off.  Keep him away.  I'm trying to cling to you.

Where We Belong

I read a statement the other day that I found powerful and compelling and, well... sticky.  You know--it stuck with me. 

"Where you come to believe you belong is where you will stay." ~Lysa TerKeurst

Twenty years ago I was dating my high-school sweetheart, daydreaming and planning our wedding and our life together.  He eventually proposed to me, and I said yes.  I had come to believe that he was where I belonged.  So, when feelings of discontent and hopes of something different fluttered into my mind, I dismissed them, because I was where I belonged, after all.  It took a lot of prodding and poking from the Spirit, but I eventually came to listen to those feelings.  I moved on.  My heart longed for more.

I don't think this is too dis-similar from our lives as Christians. 

We listen to the lies of Satan, believing that we're bound by our sin, and deserving of nothing better.  Or we just stay content with what this world has to offer, and slowly forget that we were made for so much more. 

Let God rekindle that longing in your heart.  Listen to it.  Let the Spirit nurture it.  For it is a longing for heaven.  An urge to find more.  A desire to be whole.  Heaven is the only place we truly belong.

I Kinda Thought

I kinda thought that life would seem grayer, considering the things I've encountered the past few weeks.

I kinda thought that the doubt bubbles that are seemingly floating over the heads of loved ones would block the light.

I kinda thought the world was different.

I kinda thought wrong.

Praise be to God, He has blessed me with peace, with focus, with a new sense of purpose in my life.  Am I tempted to think that I have no room for error because I need to be a witness for my Lord?  Yup.  Am I then quickly reminded that I am only made perfect in Christ?  YES, and praise God for it!

Life isn't different, because God isn't different.  He is the same yesterday, today and tomorrow.  I put my hope and trust in what He's told me in His Word.  My faith isn't just something I've chosen to believe in, it is who I am.  It is behind many of my life choices.  It is what drives me.  It is what anchors me to Him, when times are good or not-so-good.

And so, I find that God has called me to be a missionary in my own home--in my life.  But isn't that what He calls us all to?  It's really a shame that He had to use this scenario for my eyes to be fully opened to this calling.

So I'm choosing to turn the reins over to Him.  I want Him to fill me up.  I want to make my life an offering of praise.  I want to be a bold witness to His power for healing and hope.  I want Him to change me from the inside out, for the single purpose that He might be glorified and made known to this world. 


Dear Father, you are an amazing God.  I marvel daily at your creation, and the perfect ways you work in our lives.  Forgive me for forgetting how small I am and how great you are.  Forgive me when I believe that have control over my life, for you are the only one in control.  Lord, please work your wonders in my heart and life.  I don't want these to be empty words!  I truly want you to fill me, to change me.  I want to be a mirror that reflects you to this world.  I want to be sold out to you.  Please continue to fan these embers in my heart, and grow them into a fire for you that Satan has no hope of quenching.  And Father, when things get scary, remind me that I've asked for you to come in and rearrange my spiritual furniture.  Remind me that I must yield to your will.  Thank you for rescuing me.  I praise you for who you are.

Life Goes On

I've written a lot about change.  But the real theme on those "change" posts is trust.  Trust in God.  Fully giving Him my heart, and devoting every facet of my life to Him, even though I'm afraid of change.

Last week, and today, in fact, I find that my world has changed.  No new jobs.  No additions to the family.  But my world is different, nonetheless.  And I feel like all those compositions on change--the thoughts, the prayers, the intentions--are proof that God was priming my heart for this.  And even though I don't like the circumstances in which I now find myself, I am so very grateful that my God loves me enough to have given me the spiritual airbag.

Life will go on.  MY life will go on.  And I choose to trust God to carry me through this.  I trust that He'll give me the right words to say at the right times.  And I trust Him to work powerfully through me to soften my man's heart.  Because my God is mighty to save.

Well, this is it

This is what God’s been calling me to. This is the fiery path He wants me to walk.

I sat there listening last night, in what can only be described as stunned silence. My jaw wasn’t hanging open, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t shocked.

My husband told me that he doesn’t believe in God. He said that for the better part of the past eighteen months, he has felt this way. Later in the conversation, he hinted that he’s not sure he’s ever believed.

He believes that Christ lived. He loves the teachings of Jesus, because they are so practical and relevant to everyday life. It’s just that one big statement, as he called it, that he can’t quite swallow. “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” (When I asked why this one statement tripped him up, hubby said, “Because if you don’t believe in God, then…”)

He believes it is wrong that the church will let itself be divided over petty issues (some that aren’t even addressed in scripture) when Christ’s final prayer on earth was for unity among His believers. I feel like he has come to despise the church and the things we proclaim to stand for, because we just can’t (or won’t) get along.

He said he thinks that the Old Testament is just religious fable, and that the Jews made up the idea of God to explain the things they couldn’t understand.

I just don’t get it. I know that we’re all different, but I really don’t understand this. I’ve never doubted God. Never. Growing up on the farm, I remember gazing at the stars at night and marveling at how vast the universe must be. And as I studied biology in high school and college, and learned about the complexities of our bodies, I marveled all the more at how amazing a creator our God is. And as I go through life as a parent, I learn more and more about the nature and heart of God. I see God in almost every facet of my life. So, to hear someone say that they don’t believe in Him… I cannot fathom it. I just do not understand how a person can look at the things that I look at, and not see God. And I’m not saying this from a position of criticism or condemnation. I truly just don’t understand. And so, I don’t know how to deal with this.

Since I’ve known him, I’ve known that he had some doubts, some big questions that he really wanted answers to. I hoped that he would listen to God’s whispers. But it seems shouts of the world have won out. He’s been meeting with a friend once a week to discuss these issues, but he chose the wrong person. That guy, even though he’s a good man, is WAY out in left field, and not a good choice for “help me work through these doubts.” So, I’m not surprised that those meetings did no good.

He confessed these beliefs to me because, as he stated it, he no longer wanted to be dishonest with me. I’m his best friend, and he didn’t want to keep these secrets from me, even if it meant hurting me. Well, I’m hurt. I’m angry. Confused. And torn up on the inside.

And here is the most terrifying thing (at this point): How will my children have any chance at salvation, when the world is so loud with its support of Satan, when their father is an unbeliever, and only their mother is proclaiming the existence of God? When they come to us asking about baptism and salvation, what is he going to say to them? I live and proclaim what I believe to be true. This is the way. CHRIST is THE WAY. And will dad’s atheist presence completely undo that? I’m afraid so.

Confession: I don’t want to be a failure. In this life or the next. As long as I remember, I’ve wanted my life here to glorify God. I want my children to grow up with that same desire. My greatest wish is for their lives to be in His service. If I fail at this, where will I find myself on judgment day? I know that I won’t be a perfect parent, that God will forgive me for mistakes along the way, but to fail in leading them salvation?

I am realizing that I am wholly unequipped to handle this situation.

Ah, but there’s the crux of the issue. Well, MY issue. God isn’t calling me to handle anything. I don’t suppose He ever has. He is calling me to trust in Him. To give the situation to Him. To walk this fiery path and magnify Him and His wonderfulness throughout it, so that my husband can come to believe.

There is little else I can do.

Change

They say life can change in an instant.  We see evidence of that fact every day.  Car wrecks.  Earthquakes.  Tornadoes.  Births.  Deaths.  Etc.

I've been thinking a lot about change lately.  Like, a lot.  Fer-reals.

What is it that makes me dig in my heels at the slightest whiff of change?  Is it written in my DNA?  Is it my desire to control things, and change threatens that control?  Is it my lack of trust in God?

I have a very good friend who is on the threshhold of a career change.  He's worked a job for almost ten years that he has come to dread.  I am so proud of him.  He examined his situation and found a way to change it.  CHANGE IT.  He is embracing change.  Now, this friend isn't some crazy dare-devil who's just throwing caution to the wind and crossing his fingers that this will work out alright.  No.  He has prayed about it.  He's crunched numbers.  He's considered all the pros and cons.  But by changing jobs, he's headed into a certain level of unknownness.  That's scary territory for me.

Change frightens me.  I guess I just don't like my little boat rocked.  During my first pregnancy, I was so terrified of the change that was coming, my friends and co-workers were seriously concerned for my mental well-being.  This dread that I have of change apparently oozes out of my pores.

So, while I have no answers as to why I dig in my heels and resist change so stubbornly, I do believe this:  God wants us to change.

Ugh, I said it.  He wants us to change.  He wants ME to change.  And yet, I dig in my heels.  I sit back and look at my friend on the verge of this life change, which will be so good for him and his family.  But that's just it--I sit back and watch.  I don't seek out change.  I don't invite God to come in to my life and change things up a bit.  Because change is scary.

So, here's what I think it all boils down to... I think I'm scared of change because I'm content in my life.  My friend was very unhappy in his job.  I work with someone who has been actively applying for other jobs because she's miserable in her current position.  But me?  I love my job.  I love my family.  My spouse.  My friends.  God has blessed me SO richly.  Why would I seek to change all that?

I've been rambling on for over a month about change and how frightened I am.  Well, there is one thing I want to change.  I want to change my level of trust in God.  I want to let Him rule in my life.  I want to surrender to His will, and not be ruled by fear of the unknown.

And ya know... He'll probably send some change my way just to see how much I really mean that.


 :-)

Living with Guilt

I hurt someone very dear to me.  It wasn't intentional.  It wasn't malicious.  It wasn't premeditated.

It was clumsy, and possibly ill-conceived.  It probably shouldn't have been said at all.  The dear one and I haven't spoken since.

So, I'm living with guilt and sadness over hurting this dear friend.  And while I'm so very sorry for the hurt I've caused, for the things I said, I cannot help but wonder why guilt holds such power over me in my life.

I do or don't do things based on the level of guilt I know I will feel for doing or not doing said things.  Or, if I don't do what I know I should do, then I really get rough on myself, emotionally speaking, and that only perpetuates the cycle of guilt.  I believe that God has given us a conscience to serve as our guide when we don't necessarily know what is right or wrong.

I thought I was right.  Now I think I was wrong.  And I'm living with guilt over it all.

I wish...

I wish I could say that I've been content and peaceful these past weeks, waiting and waiting but hearing nothing.

I wish I could say that my blood pressure didn't spike everytime my phone rang.

I wish I could say that I didn't ride an emotional roller coaster when considering this thing that I saw coming down the pike.

I wish I could say I relied on God.  Trusting His promises to bless me.  To not forsake me.  To give me peace.

But I relied on myself.  I relied on my friends and family.  I didn't really rely on God.

I've just been waiting.  In fact, I'd become content to believe that the thing that I saw coming was actually all conjured up in my imagination.  I settled back in with contentment and joy with my current place in life. 

And now, now that there is another glimmer that this thing is indeed coming, I'm wondering...
Has this all been on hold because God was waiting for me to rely more fully on Him?  Has He actually been waiting for me to be ready?  Ready for Him to lead me into a new place?  Lead me out of complacency?  Waiting for me to just accept the invitation to dance with Him?

I can't help but wonder.