For the Sake of Relationship

It's 13:56 on a beautiful Sunday afternoon. (Pardon the 24-hour clock: old habits die hard) The little icon at the bottom of my computer screen is telling me it's sixty-three magnificent degrees! When our youngest and I decided to step out here and enjoy this gorgeous weather, it was some five minutes earlier. Now, I realize five minutes doesn't account for much, but on an afternoon like today in March, with an entire week of rain predicted ahead of us, it's all I can do to get outside and find my seat in the sun. The thing is, when we announced our impending departure, my husband immediately told us to stay right where we were so he could take care of some things on the deck. That meant he had to go to the basement, get the leaf blower, change the battery, if need be, not get distracted by something else (not an easy task when we're in our late fifties), blow the shag off the deck, putter around with anything else that seemed to be amiss, and give us the all-clear. All while those golden, glorious moments ticked away. There have been times, a long, long time ago (or, at least, I'd like to think; maybe it was just as recent as last week) when I would stamp and snort in frustration. Can't I just get out there and do my thing? Really, what is the difference? But my husband has an ulterior motive --maybe two. Number One: he doesn't want the dirt and debris dragged into the house. Number Two: he really does want the outdoor space I enjoy so much to be enjoyable, clean, comfortable, pretty. That's why he goes through all the trouble and expense each year of planting annuals and fertilizing the grass, raking and seeding, even caring for the yard in the off-season to prepare for the summer months. He wants things to be "right." 

Now, I could talk about the difference between his idea of "right" and mine, and maybe I will another day; but someone wanting to make things "right" for me is what I dreamed of for years: I wanted someone to love me and care for me. The thing is, when God gave me that someone, I had (sometimes still have) much difficulty accepting it. You see, in addition to having someone who leaves me alone to read on a Sunday afternoon, I have to be willing to accept someone who wants to take a few minutes to blow off the deck. In addition to someone who wants to take me to my favorite burger place for dinner, I have to be willing to stand back and let that someone get the door for me. I have to allow room for him to love me in the ways that are important to him as well as love me in the ways that are important to me. I'm not saying he should never speak my love language, but I am saying I should be fluent in his as well. If planting flowers and pulling out my chair and washing my car are ways he enjoys blessing me, I have to allow him room to do that with minimal stomping and snorting.

I really love that in 2 Corinthians 5:18,19, God through Paul is talking about reconciliation, relationship. He tells us that in the same way we have been reconciled to God, relationship restored through the death of Christ on the cross, we are to spread the word to others, tell them they, too, can be reconciled to God. In order to do that, however, we have to be people of relationship. In the chapters that follow, Paul tells the people of Corinth what that looks like; they are to be mindful not to obstruct others in their coming to Christ, that in all circumstances they (and we by extension) are to act as ministers to others and ambassadors of Christ; we are to be standouts, set apart so that we are not mistaken for the world; we are to accept goldy counsel and correction for the sake of the body of Christ and for those to whom we minister; we are to give godly counsel and correction for the very same reasons; we are to give liberally and, when we have done so, give more. When it comes to reconciliation and relationship, Christ is our model. He shows us the way to love others and to make way for others to love us. Remember the woman who anointed His head with expensive oil? or the one with the bad reputation who washed His feet with her tears? or that wee little man Jesus allowed to serve Him dinner? Jesus created opportunities for people to worship Him and love on Him --from their hearts, and He did not turn away those who longed to lavish their gifts on Him --gifts that were unique to them and personally sacrificial. Is there a better way to give? Is there a better gift to receive?

As human beings, we have a need to love and be loved. And while many things other than a clean deck or fresh mulch melt my heart, it's important I give my husband the room to love on me in ways that are unique and heartfelt. And if it costs me five minutes on a beautiful Sunday afternoon, it will be more than worth it for the sake of relationship. 

Midweek: Love's Reality

I typically don't post my own stuff on Wednesdays, but this morning I was reading 1 John 3:16 in The Passion, and the way the verse was rendered resonated with me. I was compelled to share:

This is how we have discovered love's reality: Jesus sacrificed His life for us. Because of this great love, we should be willing to lay down our lives for one another.

Of course, it's the Lenten season, a time we turn our thoughts to the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus Christ. He willingly laid down His life for us. Dying for those we love, the hero who rushes into a burning building to save a life while losing his own, the noble warrior spilling his blood in battle for his countrymen --all of these themes become familiar to us even from childhood. There is a romanticism in sacrifice, particularly the selfless sacrifice of one's life. But none of us living can truly imagine what goes through the mind of one so giving. At that very moment one realizes they will lose their life, leave behind those they love that another might continue to live --what is the visceral response? None of us can say for sure. We can, however, grasp more easily the concept of giving up that to which we are entitled that others may have, and that is where my imagination tends to dwell when I think of the sacrifice of Jesus.

I have surrendered my last piece of gum. I have bitten the bullet (and said a quick prayer) when my little backwasher was thirsty, and the only immediate source of water was in my Yeti. I have given up my pick of vacation weeks so a coworker can visit his sister. I have allowed my husband to have his choice of restaurants when it was my turn to choose. I have sat freezing on park benches or roasting in the sun while my children romped and roamed playgrounds calling out Mom! Watch! ad nauseum. And I have watched. I have waited up for our grown children to arrive home only an hour or two before I was due at work. I have used my gift cards to purchase gifts for others. I have spent my lunch break writing cards to encourage strangers. I have spent my days off comforting a friend. Things to which I was entitled, laid down for others. We've all done it. We can all relate. But it is merely a glimpse of love's reality.

Love's reality is not all flowers and date nights. It's not all smiles and gratitude. It's not simply foregoing the extras, but giving out of our poverty. Love's reality can be difficult to bear. Love's reality is a lowliness of mind: leaving perfection --a heavenly throne --to come to mankind that we might be made holy and receive glory. Love's reality is the big picture, momentary affliction --affliction beyond anyone's imagination --that others might live in eternal peace and prosperity. Love's reality is laying down all you are due to save those who have done all they can to strip you of it. Love's reality is choosing to make the transition from Creator to created --Edvard Munch becomes the pain and pathos of Ashes, Tchaikovsky becomes the crushing sadness of his 6th --all for the redemption of others. Love's reality is a limitless God choosing confinement, an Almighty God choosing to stand before a corrupt judge, an eternal God choosing death --bloody and gruesome and humiliating --for us. 

And because of this reality, let us go and do likewise.

Prayer or Panic?

I've spent more time in an arcade in my fifties than I ever did in my teens. Grandchildren and our special boy have dictated we be a little more flexible in the things for which we budget our money and our time. Gaming and skee ball have never really been my thing, but during our latest outing, I stood and watched jealously as my husband and our bevy of kids enjoyed a simulated runaway train ride. The images on the screen took you into tunnels and across broken tracks while the seats shook and jerked, giving the illusion you were really in danger. Just to the end of the control panel was a big red button printed with the word STOP. A panic button of sorts. If you were feeling ill or the having some sort of reaction, you could hit the button and the ride would immediately stop. Makes sense, I thought. But it occurred to me that panic buttons only work with the things we can control, machines or games. Panic buttons rarely work in real life. Have you ever faced down a giant? Maybe not, but good luck finding the panic button as his shadow looms over your teeny-tiny frame. Have you ever spent the night in a cave full of hungry lions? I would imagine a family room full of teenage boys might be closest. No amount of panic is going to put an end to their growling stomachs. My point is, when I look at some of the most unjustly persecuted, vulnerable, ordinary people in the Bible --and some since --I am amazed at their response to danger.

1 Samuel 17. Here was David, the youngest boy in his family, out delivering food to his brothers, when he hears the taunts of the Philistine giant, Goliath. David is gob smacked! Who is this uncircumcised Philistine, that he should defy the armies of the living God? And why are the armies of Israel doing nothing about it? David approaches the giant with his sling and a few stones in his hand and the boldness of a man of God (1 Samuel 18:28) in his heart (and on his lips. I come to you in the name of the Lord of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied. This day the Lord will deliver you into my hand, and I will strike you and take your head from you. And this day I will give the carcasses of the camp of the Philistines to the birds of the air and the wild beasts of the earth, that all the earth may know that there is a God in Israel. Then all this assembly shall know that the Lord does not save with sword and spear; for the battle is the Lord’s, and He will give you into our hands. And it was so. While others panicked, David prayed.

Daniel 6. Daniel had been kidnapped and taken away to Babylon. The king wanted to make him and his friends into his little proteges. The young men respectfully declined. They would not deny the God of Israel. A decree was written that prayer to anyone but the king was forbidden; violators would be cast into a lions' den. Daniel prayed. Some jealous onlookers turned him in. Daniel prayed. Much to the king's dismay, his hand was forced, and the penalty was applied. Daniel prayed. Did the lions pace? Did their stomachs growl? Daniel prayed. In the morning, the king was so relieved to find Daniel alive and so grateful to the God who had saved him, King Darius threw those tattle-tales to the lions and praised the Lord! While the king panicked, Daniel prayed.

And upon facing the humiliation and excruciating pain before Him, Jesus came to a garden, "fell on His face, and prayed, saying, 'O My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from Me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as You will.'” While His friends panicked and fled, Jesus prayed.

Wow! What courage! What remarkable faith! What incredible obedience! We can marvel all day long, but the Bible tells us, these things were recorded that we might know who Jesus is, that we might have life in His name, learn, receive patience and comfort, have hope, be forewarned, and correct our own behavior that we might withstand these times. These things were written that we imitate, that we obey rather than argue, that we submit rather than challenge, that we learn rather than be merely entertained, that we go forth in boldness rather than cower in fear, that we pray rather than panic. What would have happened had panic been the response? Panic never downed a giant. Panic never shut the mouths of lions. Panic never gave birth to one eternal life. 

Details have changed, but mankind has not; and God's admonition that we trust Him rings through the ages as trustworthy and victorious. We are to do through prayer and obedience --the only response that truly works --and leave the panic at the arcade.