This Marriage Takes Three

The phone rang, his name appeared on my dash, and immediately my jaw tightened. Scott never calls during my morning commute. "Where are you right now?" Those words. Mom had been sick for more than a week, her frail little body bouncing from one illness to another. My heart began to race. Before I answered -- maybe as I was answering -- I began to wonder how it all would sound in my ears, how he would tell me. Maybe he would say, "Well, you need to get home; I have something to tell you." I mean, when a loved one is ill and someone says something like that, don't people automatically know? The caller might be thinking, "I want to be able to comfort her. I don't want her to be alone when she hears." But, in essence, you've heard, and you are alone, maybe more alone than you've ever been in your life. I tried to prepare myself for the words to follow. 

"Babe, your mom got sick. I mean, really sick. Sick like I've never seen." I held my breath. "It's everywhere. The whole basement stinks. You need to brace for impact." I waited. "I mean, Babe, it's everywhere!" 

It was my turn. "But, how is she?" I thought he was stalling.

"Oh, she's the same as she's been, you know. She's sitting in the chair right now. But, you really need to brace for impact: it's everywhere." I wasn't sure if I wanted to shout with joy or laugh out loud. I was thrilled she wasn't gone. I was grateful she wasn't gone. But, having my husband think so much of me that he wanted to prepare me for what was to come, knowing he had walked into a scene of such carnage the likes of which he had never experienced, knowing he was sooooo out of his element, and hearing his reaction even as he took the time to warn me, made me want to burst out laughing. It was an enormous wave of relief wrapped in feeling incredibly loved.

This year we celebrated our twelfth wedding anniversary. Maybe not a huge milestone compared to some, but a wonderful one for us. Twelve years of crazy, nail-biting, abundant, sorrowful, stressful, impoverished, blessed, difficult fun! Through it all, we have loved -- sometimes easily with our hearts and sometimes resolutely with our minds. And that love has grown into the feeling I had when I hit "END" that morning.

There was a time when Scott and I would have lost our minds if we'd been ask to do what we did that morning. There was a time when coming home to find the vacuum lines in the carpet even mildly disturbed would have made us crazy. There was a time when he might have turned right around, shut the door to Mom's room and waited the thirty minutes for me to come home. But we have been through so much, and neither of us has emptied the bank account and tossed our phone in the closest dumpster. We have stayed with it because, as ugly as it has gotten and as ugly as we have both acted from time to time, we love because we were first loved by Jesus. I don't think either of us could have continued to love but for the love of Christ. That love has transformed us and continues to transform us. We become more like Jesus and, therefore, more like truth and mercy and grace and love and servanthood. We are drawn to Christ because of who He is and, as He changes us, we are drawn to each other because of who we are becoming.

My ninth grade Bible class focused on dating and marriage. Of everything we heard that year, the thing that stuck with me most, was a diagram the teacher drew to illustrate how godly relationships work. The closer each person draws to Jesus, the closer they are drawn to one another. We are seeing that diagram come to life in our marriage. And for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, in abundance and in want, in clean and in dirty, because of Jesus in our relationship, we love and are loved. Until one of us draws our last breath, there is no magical guarantee on the permanence of our marriage. It's work and it's commitment. Our marriage will only be as solid as our willingness to stay in it. But, praise God, we are not alone.

Which Role Will You Choose?

This year has some of us taking on roles we never would have chosen. My husband who, before COVID, thought Zoom was only something you did on the interstate, has actually attended a video meeting. Families who'd never considered growing more than restless, started their own gardens and reaped fresh and frugal meals without leaving their homes for decimated grocery stores. Many parents found themselves doing more than just asking, "Did you do your homework?" and spent their "off hours" Googling whatever it was their kids were supposed to be learning at the kitchen table. How well have you done in whatever new role this season has thrust upon you? Perhaps a large portion of success depends on whether you are a teacher or a student. And that might just be true of most of life.

In the home where I was raised, we attended church every Sunday. I went to a Christian school. I belonged to Pioneer Girls and youth group. My life was inundated with learning, and learning the Bible, first and foremost. But, I could just as easily have been learning the Qur'an or the owners manual for the Family Truckster. I knew it. I had amassed great amounts of knowledge from it. I knew fact after fact about its Author. But, in truth, He and I were strangers. I could have gotten straight A's in any Bible class, but I was a terrible student, for I'd missed the point altogether. Strangely, though, I chose to be a teacher. When I met people, I'd tell them about Jesus, all the while living like an anti-Christ. I even told my ex-husband about Jesus, over and over. "You're feeling this way because you don't have Jesus." When he and I were having problems in our marriage, I demanded a Christian counselor -- even though my ex-husband was not a Christian and, looking back, I'm not sure I was either. When friends and coworkers came to me with problems, I always told them they needed Jesus to heal, to be free, to know true love -- whatever, Jesus was always the answer. I made sure my children attended church and had a "religious upbringing." I taught my children at home, reciting prayers and verses with them. I refused to allow my children to watch certain things in our home and blasted my "Christian" music in the house at every opportunity. I taught Sunday school and junior church. Like some holy crusader, I demanded others know the truth. And why not? I knew the truth. I just didn't know Jesus.

But God. He. Changed. Me. Not my friends. not really. Not my ex-husband, or my children, or my coworkers. And if He did, praise His name, but it wasn't for my convenience. He created and is still creating in me, a student. Because of what He has done, I'm not sitting in the pew each Sunday, thinking how great it would be if ____ was here "because she could really stand to hear this." I'm no longer blasting Toby Mac for that neighbor who never seems to be able to park without overhanging my drive. "Girlfriend needs Jesus!" I've learned it may be more important to pray for my children, rather than preach to them. It is much better to trust God to do what He does, rather than demand He acts as I require. And all those lessons I pick up along the way, be it in my daily devotions, or words of wisdom from others, or sermons, or experiences, I learn them. Or, at least, I try to stay pliant and humble. It's wrong for me to strive at changing the world, my husband, or anyone else for my sake or according to my design; my focus should forever be on what God is doing and where God is leading. That changes me! And in giving Him the glory He so richly deserves, His message is spread to others. A lesson, born out of love and gratitude, rooted in the heart of a humble student, and demonstrated in the light of God's glory and grace. May we all seek to surrender ourselves to Him as disciples and servants of the Rabbi King.

"Not many [of you] should become teachers (self-constituted censors and reprovers of others), my brethren, for you know that we [teachers] will be judged by a higher standard and with greater severity [than other people; thus we assume the greater accountability and the more condemnation]."                                                         -- James 3:1 AMPC

What Does Lost Look Like?

What is lost? Someone said to me recently, "He is so lost," when speaking of someone who has strayed far from who they used to be, from who God designed them to be. And he is. He is lost to addiction. He is lost to selfishness. He is lost to arrogance. But what does that mean, exactly? A criminal record? Living on the streets? Endangering others? Failed relationships? Hurtful words said to people who are no longer around to hear him apologize? I think those are the obvious ones. What about the damage he is doing to himself? The difficulty each conviction on his record brings to finding a decent job. The toll his substance abuse is taking on his body and his mind. The bridges he has burned and the people who are no longer willing to offer him support. The pit that just continues to get deeper and deeper, making it harder to dig his way out each time he lies or steals or uses. And the pain that brings those who truly love him and care for him is, at times, excruciating. No one who has been on either side of this coin can deny, that is lost. That is the lost we pray about. That is the lost that makes prayer lists and causes others to weep. That is the lost that brings people to gratitude: "There, but for the grace of God, go I." 

But there is another "lost," a lost that doesn't often warrant interventions or end in untold grief. Call it, if you will, the lost of the elder son. In Luke 15:11-32, Jesus tells a story to illustrate some things about His Father, my Father 💓. He talks about a young man who demands his father give him his inheritance that he might do a better job of life than the old man. The father does as his son asks; but, the young man eventually winds up alone, in poverty, and wishing he could be so fortunate as to eat from a trough. He goes home, and his merciful father receives him gladly and blesses him in glorious celebration. The man's elder son, however, is not as thrilled. He refuses to attend the party, telling his father, "All these years I’ve slaved for you, never once refusing to do a single thing you asked. And in all that time you never gave me even one young goat for a feast with my friends. Yet when this son of yours comes back after squandering your money on prostitutes, you celebrate by killing the fattened calf!" That is lost, as well, my friends.

It's not just the jealousy; it's not just the entitlement. It's the illusion of having it all together. It's the idea that my car, my house, my beautiful family, my career, my position within the community, even my church is all I need to be okay. That is lost. It's not the sort of lost that will land your name on the lips of too many prayer warriors. It may not even be the sort of lost that shows up on anyone's radar in most cases, but it may just be the worst kind of lost. It's the kind of lost that appears to everyone -- the lost as well as "the found" -- as though you're doing just fine. And it's the kind of lost that moves to the back of the line when people show deep concern. No one stands around wondering, "What are we gonna do, he's so successful?" Few plead, "My son is such a loving family man. Would you please pray for him?" Who looks at the single mom bringing her two beautiful children to church every week, and thinks, "She is so lost." But these people just might be as lost as the addict or the axe murderer -- maybe more so. 

The only type of "found" there is, is the one that starts and ends with Jesus Christ. Without Him, we all are lost. It was Jesus who came to show us a life surrendered to the Father's will, who paid the greatest debt we could ever owe, and rose to guarantee His work was sufficient and our eternal life secure. Image is not everything unless we have been remade in the image of Christ. Money is an instrument we use to obey and serve. Families are a blessing and a privilege to steward for God's glory. Positions of power, spheres of influence are opportunities to make His name known to all the world. None of these will make you any less lost. In fact, if you've placed your faith squarely in the prosperity or pleasures of this world, you might be the most lost of all.

As for those of us praying for loved ones we know are lost, let's be particularly mindful of those who don't appear that way.

Encouraged. Empowered.

Ok, kids, here's a little Latin to start you on your way. Today's prefix is dis-. Dis- is a Latin prefix meaning "apart" or "away." Think of the word disrespect. Disrespect is to act or speak apart from admiration for, or to take away regard for someone or something. Let's do another one: discouraged. How would you define that word? Last week I told someone I was discouraged. I was feeling down in the dumps; things appeared as though I'd taken one step forward and two steps back; I'd even thought about giving up on a project. But, there's Latin! Dis-courage means to "remove courage." And, according to Merriam-Webster's dictionary, courage is "mental or moral strength to venture, persevere, and withstand danger, fear, or difficulty." Dis-courage is to remove that mental or moral strength from the picture, to leave someone powerless to persevere or withstand danger or difficulty. 

Powerless. That word is important, too. Power is the thing that enables you to do something. If your power has been removed -- nothing. Like a blackout or a dead battery under the hood. Your appliances, your vehicle, are power-less. Now, when I initially labeled myself discouraged, I used words like "feeling," "appeared" or "thought." The truth is, feelings aren't necessarily how things really are, appearances can be deceiving, and what we think is not fact, but only opinion. So, here's the crux of all this, if discouragement is the removal of courage, the removal of strength -- if discouragement leaves you powerless, it is so much more than a simple appearance or thought or feeling. Discouragement is an actual removal of the thing that will make things happen, your power. Had my power been removed? No! The only way my power in Christ can be removed is if I relinquish it or neglect to use it.

Take a look at Ezra 3. The Babylonians had destroyed Solomon's Temple for the Lord some fifty years before, King Cyrus of Persia had ordered it rebuilt, and the nation of Israel was obeying the word of the Lord in doing just that. When the foundation was finally complete, there was much commotion. Some were shouting for joy at the sight of the restoration. God's presence would be visible in Jerusalem again! But, others were weeping with sadness. Some of the older folks who'd seen the grandeur of Solomon's Temple looked at this pathetic representation and knew it would never reflect the majesty of their God the way the old building did. How they could have become discouraged! How they could have given up! Why bother? God has removed His favor from us because of our disobedience. We blew it. The visions of grandeur they recalled were not the glory God desired for this second temple. The standards they set were not the standards by which God reigns. The first temple, Solomom's Temple was built from the wealth God granted a king; this temple was to be built with all the people of God could give. Their discouragement over unmet expectations could have changed Israel's course of history. 

Courage. The strength to make things happen. The mental or moral power to overcome obstacles and get things done. Is there anything stealing your courage today? Feelings of inadequacy? Standards that are not yours to meet? The opinions of others? History -- ancient or otherwise? Without Israel drawing on the courage of a mighty God, the Temple may never have been opened for worship. If those appointed to rebuild the temple had allowed their opinions to rob them of courage, God may have appointed others, and Israel would have missed the blessing. Discouragement could have changed the course of history, then, and discouragement can change the course of history today.

So, I'm rewriting my definition of discouraged to more accurately reflect the influence it can have over my purpose. I'm calling it what it is that I might be more mindful to avoid it. I'm giving it the weight it deserves that I might seek the Lord from the first inkling of failure or setback, and shore up my defenses against it. I am recognizing it as a removal of power, of strength, of the fortitude I need to get God's work done, to endure all the trouble this world has to offer, to be the daughter-wife-mother-sister-friend-employee-neighbor God would have me be, to bring Him honor and glory in everything I say, think, or do. 

An old pastor of ours used to say, "I think I just preached myself happy!" Well, I think I just preached myself en-couraged!