Show Me Some ID Please (Part One)

Identity is important. To those who govern and control the business end of life -- birth certificates, driver's licenses, credit scores. To society -- geeks, jocks, posers and wanna-bes, Millenials, type As, slackers and suck-ups. To our families -- "Aunt Judi", "Mom" -- and our friends.

Identity is important to us. Years ago, people went on retreat to "find" themselves. Today, people need "me" time. I caught the tail end of a broadcast yesterday, that was talking about our identities resting in what we do -- works-based, or achievement-driven identity. Last night, a friend was frustrated by people who see his identity as a contradiction -- the things he does or likes versus the color of his skin -- rather than embracing his identity comprehensively. Once you've "found" yourself, or discovered who you are -- if you like that person -- it seems important to hold onto who you are.

But, do you know how important identity is to God? In the Hebrew tradition, a name defined its owner in some way: birth order, physical characteristics, even future aspirations. My mother chose Judi, a derivative of Judah -- "blessed by God" -- for reasons other than it's true meaning. God, however, has fulfilled that prophecy! Bless His name! Throughout the Bible, names have been changed -- not to protect the innocent, but to reflect the innocent! As men and women walked more closely with God, and began to resemble Him and His righteousness, their names were changed to reflect the change in their lives. New identities for new creations! And He wants our identities even today. That's right. Those identities we've worked so hard to establish and guard? He wants us to let them go.

The folks on the radio broadcast were discussing the importance of an identity founded on Christ. It only makes sense that an identity based on the things I have done or am capable of doing would crumble as the things I did lost their significance or I became unable to do them any longer. An identity built upon an athletic career collapses as records are broken and the body deteriorates. Identity that hinges on the bottom line of a bank account -- well, the crash before the Great Depression yielded suicide after suicide. Identity dependent upon volatile or temporary criteria will suffer when that criteria is tested or its time runs out.

Identity that is surrendered to Christ will endure. Surrendered.

Mom often tells me I am nice. I feed her; I help dress her; I do those "nice" things for her. But that doesn't always accurately reflect what is in my heart. Those "nice" things don't always reflect the characteristics of my old identity still lurking. In fact, when Mom says that -- even when others say that -- I don't usually respond; I know the ugliness that lives inside. Sure, it all looks OK on the outside: my behavior is submitted to Christ, and so, I serve her; but some days inner me is just screaming, "Me! Me! Me!" The selfish, sinful part of my identity wants her way now! The selfish, sinful part of me does not want to surrender. The Holy spirit convicts me of that -- a lot lately, to tell you the truth. God wants the neurotic, self-serving, fearful, angry, arrogant me. He wants her so that He can make something new, something that resembles Him, something that will cause others to see Him revealed, and will ultimately bring Him the glory He so richly deserves. He has brought so many of my unsurrendered moments to my attention lately, that I almost look forward to it. I want it all gone. I want to know where those characteristics of my old identity lie so I can repent of them, pray about them, and seek Scriptures wisdom to root them out!

So, just who is it God wants you and I to be? We'll look at some aspects of our identity in Scripture tomorrow.

Through the Fire

"Then Nebuchadnezzar was full of fury, and the expression on his face changed..." -- Daniel 3:19

This morning I was studying Daniel 3 -- "The Fiery Furnace". The verse above popped out at me -- that phrase: "and the expression on his face changed". Oh my. I know that expression. I know that kind of fury. I have been on the receiving end of it many times. But the times that disturb me most is when I have been the face behind the fury.

Briefly, the history behind "The Fiery Furnace" is this: King Nebuchadnezzar builds a 90' gold idol to himself and orders all the land to bow to it in worship. Three Jewish men -- Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-Nego -- refuse on the grounds they worship God and God alone. The king likes these men, has given these men positions of prominence in his kingdom. When he finds out they refuse his order, he sends for them. He gives them ample opportunity to deny the charges. He reviews the edict with them -- just in case they misunderstood. But -- no misunderstanding -- they still refuse, saying, "O Nebuchadnezzar, we have no need to answer you in this matter. If that is the case, our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the burning fiery furnace, and He will deliver us from your hand, O king. But if not, let it be known to you, O king, that we do not serve your gods, nor will we worship the gold image which you have set up." 

The next verse says, "Then Nebuchadnezzar was full of fury, and the expression on his face changed toward Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-Nego. He spoke and commanded that they heat the furnace seven times more than it was usually heated." That's some serious rage, there. If the consequence of defying the king's order was a fiery furnace, why not just throw them in and be done with it? Why get so bent out of shape? 

The flash point seems to be their words, "we do not serve your gods, nor will we worship the gold image which you have set up." In Nebuchadnezzar's day, that's what people did -- they made idols, "graven images" of their gods. Nebuchadnezzar made an idol to his god: himself. Shadrach, Meshach and Abed-Nego's refusal to serve and worship the king's gods was a refusal to serve and worship him! Nebuchadnezzar had invested in them; maybe he'd even felt some sort of affection toward them. He had summoned them, after all, giving them a chance to deny or explain. He had reviewed his order with them, making sure they hadn't missed the memo. He had been so good to them. He had taken time out of his busy schedule to speak to them personally. And he, therefore, took their refusal very personally! After all he had done...

Before Mom came to live with us, another family member was staying at Chez Murphe'. This guest's stay ended rather abruptly when the enforcement of a rule became inevitable. We had long attempted patience, negotiation, persuasion, caution -- to no avail. It was time for our guest to find other accommodations. That is, until our guest threatened us with "squatter's rights" and made a few other threats to our home, possessions, personal safety and peace of mind. Then it was time for our guest to leave immediately -- alternative accommodations or no. The eviction did not go well, and I blame myself. I should have rested in the Lord. I should have been more loving, or at least, calm. I should have recalled my "peace of mind" being found squarely in Jesus, and acted accordingly. But "this ingrate, this Judas had not only kicked my goodness and my grace back to me -- spit on it! -- but then had the audacity to threaten what belonged to me!" Oh, yes. The old me had been released, and everyone suffered for it. Ego, ego, ego.

Some of the situations I have gotten myself into over the years have cost me a great deal. When I saw the things I had regained being threatened, I freaked. "I did this; I worked hard to climb out of that, and you are not going to take my accomplishments away. And coming from some germ I have helped?! You would be nowhere without me, without my help!" I didn't say those things, but the things I did say... My tongue still stings. I sounded just like that furious king. That king who had built an idol to himself 90' tall. That king who commanded all the land to worship that god just as he did. I was that way before; I know I was that way before. But, I gotta tell you, seeing myself that way in spite of my relationship with Jesus? Well, that shocked me. Sadly, I don't think it shocked our guest. I think our guest walked away "knowing" Jesus had made no difference whatsoever in me. That makes more than my tongue sting.

But the Christian life is not an "arrived" kind of thing. My old nature still works to draw me back. I discovered that day, the statue I had built to me stood tall, and not just tall -- no, much worse -- at least 90' deep. That monument was entrenched -- despite my equally deep love for the Lord! Praise God, though, He is still working on tearing it down, bit by bit, accomplishment by accomplishment. I know this, because He brought me to the "Fiery Furnace" today, and I know He will bring me through it.

What Can God Do with Regret?

The other day, someone was talking about regret. They posed the question, "If you could go back to any moment in time, and reverse the decision you made -- just one moment -- what would that be?" My mind immediately went to a time years ago, I asked God for a sign. Now, those of you who believe we are never to ask God for a sign can simply say, "Well, there you go," and stop reading. Those of you who believe asking God for a sign, for confirmation or clarification is alright, you might ask, "Well, what's wrong with that?" For the sake of brevity, I'll just tell you, what I wanted to do -- what I was already pretty well engaged in -- was sinful in the first place. Asking God to approve of something that is an offense to Him is not quite the same as asking Him what He wants you to do. You might get a sign, but it's not going to be good, and it might not be from Him.

So that moment was my initial response to the time travel, decision reversal, "redo" question. However, the memory had not even completely formed when I began to think of all the things that happened as a direct result of that decision: purchasing a house -- the house that is now our home; having my second baby, the beautiful and talented Teenie Weenie, who has extended our family by three equally fabulous people; meeting the wonderful woman and friend with whom Mom and I recently had lunch, G; a painful divorce which led to relationships with Jesus, Scott and three very special children; wisdom, wisdom, wisdom; watching my Father God provide for me in ways He -- no doubt -- would have years before when I was so busy seeking His approval of my plan rather than following His. On and on I could go about the blessings that came about despite a terrible decision, a moment in time I regret. So, was it a good decision? Absolutely not, but I saw God's grace. Blessing I did not -- I do not deserve. Beauty from ashes. Breathless wonder from a broken life. And it is so sweet and precious to me.

If you are living with regret, seek His forgiveness. Surrender your life, that He might do what He so expertly, so powerfully does. Seek His will, rather than asking Him to approve of yours. Give Him your mountains, your molehills, your blemishes and scars; give Him your pain and your failure. Worship and serve God and God alone. And be called His own. 

I will always regret the moment I grieved the Lord, and hurt others. But the loving God I serve has made certain I cannot look back at that decision without peering through years of blessing He so graciously has given me since.  

One Moment at a Time

I had an aunt with Alzheimer's. My uncle cared for her until her death. He would tell us how she would wander, looking to escape the man "holding her hostage"; she would try to attack him, believing him to be an intruder in her home. I have often thanked God that this has not been the case with my mother; but as she was ranting and raving the other day, my practical German began to attempt to formulate a plan. How am I going to keep her safe? How am I going to be able to go to work? How bad is this going to get? Do we need to call someone?

Well, praise God, Mom's ranting and raving was just that. She was agitated, but not violent; she was restless, but not looking to make a break for it. The entire episode left me with three things, however:

1. We got a heads-up. God gave us a glimpse at what could, in time, become a new normal. We have ample opportunity to put a plan in place -- a way to keep her secure and safe; maybe even a plan to curtail further meltdowns; some time to consult professionals and others who have experienced this, and learn from them.

2. Mom is alive! Winter months can be particularly difficult: reduced daylight, regulating the temperature in the house without suffocating those of us under the age of 80, the challenge of getting outside and getting around on icy territory. But even through Mom's temper tantrum I was praising God -- she's not just sitting in front of the TV like some vegetable; she has opinions, likes and dislikes, and she was making them clearly known to us; she still has within her the desire to be an adult, to choose what she wants!

3. We walk this out one moment at a time. This was new for us -- all of us. And, with Mom's condition, there is no way of predicting when, where, or if. Which, if you think about it, is a blessing. It's usually when we become self-assured we tend to cast off the Lord, or our quiet time, or our prayer closet, in favor of doing it ourselves. So, we walk with Him. Each moment. Each step.

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Fast forward to the following day. Mom and I get off to a rocky start. Her room is trashed because she hasn't slept all night. It appears she has tried on everything she owns, and investigated every nook and cranny. There are papers and tissues strewn about, and she is, once again demanding to wear what she wants. I would have had no problem with her choices had they not been short sleeves and dirty pajama pants from the hamper. So. There we were.

"You're getting a shower," I said. I grabbed a fresh set of clothing; and into the bathroom we went.

Mom needs minimal help in the shower, but this day... She needing coaxing to get any part of her under the water; she needed help maneuvering about; she needed constant prompts as to what to do next.

How can I help her? "One moment at a time," was the answer.

I had some quick errands to run, but, in light of our first few hours of the day, was tempted to put them off. "You wanna take a ride?" I asked. I think she was our the door before I was!

Maybe it was the new regiment of vitamins. Maybe it was the brief break in the weather. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or something in the air, or a full moon, or the smell of ribs cooking, or MLK Day -- but it was definitely something. (Or some One!) Less than twenty-four hours after Mom's meltdown, she was regaling me with stories of her youth, reading everything her eyes fell upon as we drove along, and making mental notes about needing toothpaste and a comb. It was as if a switch had been flipped. Her verbal skills were better; the corners of her mouth were drawn up in an almost-smile, rather than the tight, defensive line that is her norm; she engaged easily and laughed with her whole body. Thank You, Father! Thank You, God!

As the day wore on, I tentatively made us something to eat. And brought out some old photos. And discussed some of the things we did to celebrate Christmas over the last few weeks. And brewed some tea. Slowly. Intentionally. I didn't want to do anything that was going to break this gracious gift. I didn't want to disturb the wonderfulness of this blessing.

And I praised God for each minute that passed. One precious moment at a time.