It's Not My Problem

 I don't want Douglas anymore, our youngest said. When he'd come to live with us, our son had brought a group of stuffed friends, Douglas the dog being one of them. Some of the smaller ones in the group had already made the transition to "alternative housing" (Read: the donation pile), but Douglas was special, and our boy is still so new. He is trying to grow, he is trying to find his "different," but that can be so difficult to do. I had a sneaking suspicion that sooner or later, our boy would regret his decision. Within a week, he'd lamented to me the disposal of Douglas. He's still in my closet, I assured. You can have him back if you like. Oddly enough, that was the end of the conversation. Another week has passed, and he's not asked for Douglas again, nor has he given me the final okay as to rehoming his stuffed companion. Time will tell, I guess.

As I considered the whole thing, I thought about prayer. Prayer is an outpouring of our hearts to the One who (hopefully) dwells there, to the One who is first and foremost in our longings and our thoughts. Some of the things I think about do not honor God. I worry, or I fear, or I rebel against what is right, or let's be honest here, I am rigid with thoughts of revenge toward that guy who just cut me off to make a left from the right lane. So, I whisper a prayer (maybe I shout); I give all my junk to Him. Get rid of it, so that all that is left is praise and adoration for You, Jesus! And a week later --Does it take a week? --it's back again. How did that get there?! Well, I took it back, of course. I stuck my "Douglas" in the closet --far enough away that I could say I didn't want him anymore, but close enough that I could pull him out when I wanted the "comfort," the familiarity of him again. Finding your "different" can be hard.

1 Peter 5:7 tells us to cast our cares on the Lord because He cares for us. We can bring our worries, our fears, our rebellion, even our thoughts of revenge before the throne and leave them there. Easy for you to say, you tell me. You're not married to a woman like this, or You don't have a child with lymphoma, or You're not being sued by your own brother. Well, it's not so easy for me to say. As a matter of fact, when I first began writing, it was a means to encourage myself, to hold myself accountable; and though there are additional reasons I write today, I still write what the Holy Spirit speaks to me as a record to propel me and keep me moving in the right direction. There have been plenty of times I post an article, move on to the bookkeeping portion of my day only to encounter a nasty little overdraft fee or an overdue bill four times the amount of money in our account. I've closed my laptop after quiet time only to hear commotion breaking out upstairs: someone refusing to do something, or a dog that's absconded with an entire stick of butter, lapping it up all over the house. We've not escaped grief or chaos or divorce or rebellion or drug abuse or mental illness --we've not been immune from any of those things. But what Jesus is asking me, what Jesus is asking each one of us is, To whom do those things belong? Have you given them up for good, have you handed them over to Me that I might work in them, or do you insist on keeping them nearby? Are you going to place them in My care for good, or will you take them back to work on them yourself? Are they your problems, or are they Mine? 

That's what I wrote in my journal this morning: Jesus, there is this problem with ____, but there's nothing I can do about it. My job is to ask You to deal with it; that's what I'm doing. My job is to obey You and pursue a deeper relationship with You; that's what I'm doing. My job is to let others see who You are through me; that's what I'm doing. This problem is no longer mine; it's up to You to do something about it. Amen

And that's that. Douglas can stay in the closet as long as our young man requires; after all, it's only a stuffed dog. But the issues, the fears, the struggles, the sins, I'm casting them on Jesus, releasing my hold, forsaking them completely, giving them to Him. And He'll take care of His own problems.

Midweek: Manifesto of Who I Long to Be

The following is from K.J. Ramsey's book, The Book of Common Courage. I have shared her work before, and I think her poetry captures the pathos of our humanity and the awe of the God who loves us and endures with us anyway. In our weakness and finitude, this awesome God hears our cries for help and our determination to draw near Him and serve Him. May the declaration that follows be our heart's purest offering to Him.

We would rather be shattered than silenced.

We would rather be disturbed than dismissive.

We would rather be heartbroken than hollow.

We would rather be vulnerable than vacuous.

We would rather be burdened than bullies.

We would rather be maligned than mean.

We would rather be aching than arrogant.

We would rather be vilified than vain.

We would rather be crushed than cruel.

God, bind up all the broken pieces of me and your church.

We would rather be in your hands than never at home.

We would rather hurt now than never heal.

~ K.J. Ramsey, The Book of Common Courage 

Not Playin' Around

I've got a friend. Yup, just one. No, not really; I have some wonderful friends. But this one in particular is going through a very difficult time with their spouse. Prior to this difficult time, my friend had asked me to work with him/her on Scripture study. This friend had decided it was time to get serious about the Lord. Just to clarify this level of serious, imagine someone dissatisfied with their job. Yeah, I think it's time to look for a new job, they say. And months go by. Someone asks how well they like their job. Not very well, they reply. It might be time to look for a new one. But they've reached the twelve-year mark, they're in their late thirties: it's getting more difficult to make the move, break from the routine they've established. Another two years goes by before they know it. They're finding zero satisfaction in their job, there's no challenge, they're going through the motions without any real love for what they're doing. Do I really want to get my resume updated, start the search for another job? But I'm not really seeing the benefits of this one; I feel stagnant, but it pays the bills. 

Well, my friend updated his/her resume. My friend decided the search was worth it. My friend decided it was time to leave routine behind and search for all God was wanting to give. To do so means Bible study, memorization, devotion to prayer, being still before the Lord and listening for His voice, THEN obeying it! And before the difficult time arrived, my friend had already begun to do the work. Diligently. Seriously. And this friend who, just two years ago, would have sent me a very different text, sent me this one a few weeks ago:

Hi Judy. I was up till 1. I am committed. Not committed to a looney bin. Committed to growing under your instruction. Lol. And mostly in the Lord.

There is no exaggeration here. This person was, at one time, losing their mind. The texts I would get in his/her darkest times...Oh my! Scary. 

But God! I couldn't ask for a better, more precious text! 

This article was not the manifesto I'd planned. I wanted to rant about wishy-washy Christians who constantly gossip and place all their focus on stupid things like binge-watching and designer bags. I wanted to rage on about how sick I am of people calling themselves by the name of Jesus and not even giving Him the time of day. I wanted to excoriate Christians who think they can grow without reading Scripture and serve without leaving their comfort zones. I wanted to say, most of all, of how I fail Him. How I want to give so much more. How every second I mindlessly waste on my phone would be better used if I give Him that time. I wanted to say how wishy-washy I can be, and how that sickens me. But I think this testimony says it all. 

For my friend, the difficult time has come; but because of his/her willingness to make a change and commit to basic spiritual disciplines, the difficulty will not overcome this child of God. My friend has decided to get serious about a relationship with Jesus, to draw nearer to Him day after day, even when so much else is demanding attention, even when so many lies are being spoken. My friend has been diligent, faithful on the mountain top and in the valley, and has met there the Friend who is with us in all things. Are you ready to get serious?