Growing Through the Pain

As a '70s kid, we spent countless hours outside playing Hide 'n Seek, tag, roller derby --all sorts of running, jumping, moving games. All of that action lead to some skinned knees and scraped up elbows. A quick dab of Merthiolate and a Band-Aid put us back in the game. However, at least for a short time, there was a sense of trepidation when it came to the uneven patch in the sidewalk or that one branch of the tree --whatever it was that caused our previous fall was treated a little more respectfully, with just a little more caution than before. 

As kids, we were all capable of falling, none of us avoided it. Many a runner wiped out on the curve by Miss Millie's, and the front tire wobble that developed just after landing the big jump was something with which each of us was familiar. The cuts and scrapes were consequences. There wasn't a child on our block who didn't bear some sort of blemish from our outdoor escapades. (I can still point to several of my own today.) In those days, parents called that a lesson. The sympathy moms doled out quickly evaporated when from the kitchen window she heard her recently mended son shouting, "I think I can skip five steps this time!" To which Mom would reply, "Haven't you learned your lesson?!" When those falls and wounds resulted in a little more prudence, or a better way to scale the wall, or a concern for others-- establishing rules so others didn't trip over that same broken fence post -- that's what grown-ups called wisdom, maturity. Foolishness, much like the way we describe insanity today, was repeating the previous actions and expecting to stick the landing. The best dads were the ones helping to modify ramps and pushing their offspring toward greatness by involving them in more structured motorsport programs.  

Have you ever thought of adulthood in the same terms? Even adults do dumb stuff, right? Sometimes life takes us places we've never navigated before, and we don't always get it right on the first try. Sometimes we are forced to sit next to the hurt guy at work, and as we know, hurt people hurt people, right? However it happens-- through our own negligence, stupidity, ignorance, or through no fault of our own, we fall, we get hurt. The wounds we suffer are the consequences-- and, yes, we suffer consequences whether the fall was our fault or not. (One of the truly ugly truths of living in a broken world.) The entire experience is the lesson. Whether we learn to fear, to withdraw, to do unto others before they do unto us, to love, to proceed with caution, to seek wise counsel-- it's our choice! Lastly, how do you plan on moving on from here? Will you continue to beat yourself up over your latest gaff? Will you blame and allow anger and unforgiveness to settle like a cloud over your life? Will you fear and refuse to trust again? Will you move forward in a way that demonstrates growth and shares that growth with others?

I've noticed a push to create a painless, comfortable society where consequences are only for the people who deserve them-- whomever that may be (Not us, that's for sure!). Even in some churches, the message is about "your best life" and just how "Golly-Gee-Whiz great life is now that I follow Jesus." We don't like the idea of falling, and getting hurt, and picking ourselves up, and nursing one another's wounds, and learning lessons, and trying again-- or not trying again --with whatever information we've gained. It's all so messy. But following Christ is about knowing the fellowship of His suffering as well as the power of His resurrection. (Not exactly the inspiration you'd find on a refrigerator magnet, as our pastor would say.) 

Proverbs 24:10 says, If you faint in the day of adversity, your strength is small. It is in the difficulties of life that we become stronger and wiser. We learn through failure. We mature through trouble. James 1:2-4 says, Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. Now, I know joy may not be the first thing on your mind when you're going through tough times, but God promises, if we just hold fast in faith, we will grow, mature, and gain everything we need for spiritual adulthood. Troubled times will be our teacher if we ask God to show us what we are to learn through them. Pain can change us for the better if we see it as a signal to draw nearer to God and receive His healing. 

Walk in joy today, and leave the Merthiolate in the medicine cabinet!

Still Very Much Under Construction

One summer, I sat in the teachers' lounge, eating peanut butter and jelly on a graham cracker. I say "peanut butter and jelly" because, there was a faint aroma of peanuts on the cracker and the tiniest smear of jelly. Despite a couple hours of hockey practice in the morning and stocking shelves in the school library the rest of the day, that would be the only thing I would eat until the following afternoon when I sat in the teachers' lounge once again. I had begun playing games with food and I wasn't even in high school yet. 

More than fifteen years ago, Scott quit drinking. The Holy Spirit gave him the strength to simply walk away. Just like that! Praise God! Then he decided to quit smoking. Multiple attempts, multiple methods, and even though he has been smoke free for years now, he struggles everyday. Sometimes it's like that. Sometimes we are given grace upon grace to walk in newness of life as though we never were dead. Other times we are given grace upon grace to sweat and dig and lift in the building of a life that God makes new. The brambles of temptation litter the ground and the bedrock of sin resists being broken. There will be no new structure without labor. The eating disorder that has plagued me most of my life more closely resembles the sweaty struggle of Option #2.

I have prayed for God to instantly change my stinkin' thinkin' --decades of it. Instead, He tells me that in Him I can be transformed by the renewing of my mind, and a foundation will be laid. I have prayed that one day I will wake up and no longer think of ways to eat as much as I'd like or ways to avoid having to eat at all. Instead, He gives me new things to consider: true things, pure things, lovely things, and the bricks are stacked one by one. I have prayed I would discover a way to love the body God has given me and treat it as His dwelling place. He answers that all I do is to be for Him and the lies that set me on this path of self-abuse contradict everything He says about me; that blueprint is the law I trust and obey. I have looked for that secret formula that would change everything for me overnight. Instead, God assures, Cast your burden on the Lord, And He shall sustain you (Psalm 55:22), as He invites me to labor alongside Him. 

So, that's where we are. About four weeks ago, I had a "crash and burn" kind of day. I ate so much junk --easily a 5000 calorie day! (just to offer some perspective)-- that I felt terrible for days. In the past, my crash and burn day would have been followed by multiple days of "slash and burn" tactics: purging, "sub-safe" calorie intake, crazy workouts, beating my body into submission, punishing myself for being such a terrible person. (Which is really why the "crash and burn" days usually happen in the first place.) But the slash and burn didn't happen. Instead, I held on to God's promises, I talked to someone about the things I'd done and the way I was feeling, I refused to hide anything in the dark, and I asked God to help me build back what I had torn down. We'd worked so many years on that, and I'd leveled it in less than a day; but, apparently, the foundation had started to crack, so we're rebuilding it once more.

I'm not fixed. I'm not cured. I am still very much under construction in many ways. But I'm not closing down the jobsite. I am going to wake up each and every morning God gives me, be grateful, focus on obeying Him, cling to truth, and give each day my best shot. Brick by brick. Will I fail? Yep (I relapsed two days ago), but I'm also investigating why this season, why now, what are the triggers, and how I will react to those triggers in a more mature, more appropriate way. All the while, I'm trusting the same God who delivered me from sin and death will sustain me each and every time I give this effort to Him; I'm receiving His grace upon grace to do the hard stuff.

This Really Stinks!

Look at these flowers. Are they beautiful, or what?!

Alright, if I'm being honest, they're not all that beautiful. But they're not terrible either. In fact, I'd call them "nice to have around", or "normal", or "acceptable", perhaps I'd even call them "better than average".

Scott got me these flowers two weeks ago. They've had a good run, but that black spot right there in the center of that one in front, the wilting, the browning, and the fading of colors? All signs of death. And the smell! I know you can't smell them, but this morning as I walked into the kitchen, the smell was the first thing that hit me --and not in a good way. Funny, two weeks ago, a beautiful fragrance filled the room. But today? The dreadful smell of death.

People can be the same way. We can look pretty good on the outside. Not terrible. Maybe even nice to have around, normal, acceptable, or better than average. We can appear to have it all together. Sure, we might have our divots and scratches. That doesn't mean we can't add something colorful to the landscape. But take a good whiff. Are you rotting from the inside out? Is your beauty only skin deep? It may seem harsh, but without Jesus, that is death you smell.

As a child, I learned the lyrics of a song that accompanied Child Evangelism Fellowship's Wordless Book, a tool used all over the world to share the gospel message:

My heart was dark with sin until the Savior came in.
His precious blood I know has washed me white as snow.
And in God's Word I'm told I'll walk the street of gold.
To grow in Christ every day, I read my Bible and pray.

New life God gave to me--life abundant and free.

He wants this new life to grow--the Bible tells me so.
Loving and trusting and praying, witnessing and obeying,
I'll grow in knowledge and grace until I see His face.

It's hard for us to think of our hearts being so wicked, so deceitful, dark with sin, but the Bible tells us that is the case. We might think we're kind and compassionate, giving and forgiving, well behaved and self-controlled, but even King David, a man after God's own heart, knew his judgment could not be trusted. He asked God to search his heart, to point out any way in which he was not living as a man of God. 

As a Christian, my heart has been washed clean by the blood of Jesus Christ on the cross. God looks at me through the righteousness of Jesus; I am acceptable before Him and my punishment for sin, past, present, future has been served. But there are things that still affect my soul, my human nature. There are temptations that come to me from the world, from Satan and his minions, and my own humanity; if I fail to resist them, the new life and the good works God has given me to do can begin to show signs of decay. My salvation is secure, my identity is in Christ, but the choices I make or the way I conduct myself won't reflect that. Like David, I still need the Holy Spirit of God to do those regular checks. God, is there something taking root in my life that should not be? Is there something that's going to corrupt my relationship with You or with others? 

If you don't know Jesus as your Savior, if you haven't taken the time to search out, in the pages of the Bible, who He is and what He's done for all of us, I urge you to do that today. If you have been following Him, but have maybe started to feel a little lukewarm, or just haven't asked Him to examine your motives and your behavior lately, I urge you to do that. Looks can be deceiving. Without Jesus, we are not okay --it's that simple. In fact, if we're not obeying Jesus, no matter how we look, we're just stinkin' up the place.

Not a Christian

Those who leave everything in God's hand will see God's hand in everything.
~ Unknown

I am a Christian. If church was giving out certificates for perfect attendance, I wouldn't receive one. If God was giving out awards for best behaved, I wouldn't receive one. If the stars spelled out the name of the most generous givers or the most selfless servants, I wouldn't be among them (our pastor would; not me). But I am a Christian just the same. I am a person who believes the Bible is true, it reveals the character, plan, and work of God to all mankind. I believe that Jesus died, suffering every bit of the penalty I deserved for my sin, paying my debt in full and in return, He gave me His righteousness; He rose from the dead, the Firstfruits of many --myself included, proving His life, His blood, was the one and only sufficient sacrifice for sin. It is that clean slate, if you will, my new identity and the presence of the Holy Spirit in me, that emboldens and empowers me to live as Christ lived, loving others as He loved me. It is the work of God the Father, through Jesus Christ, His Son, by the power of the Holy Spirit. In my power I come up woefully short. It is in unlikely moments-- moments of weakness, rebellion, ignorance --that I often think I'm starting to look most like the Christian I want to be. 

Going back to the days of my childhood, sitting quietly in Sunday school, careful not to wrinkle my best dress, I wanted to be good; I wanted to please God and my parents and my teachers. But those days are few before the world begins to label you with names like "teacher's pet" and "goody-goody," and you realize that to gain the acceptance of your peers (which, on the average, outnumber your teachers by twenty to one) you must lose the approval of adults on some level. I wasn't prepared make sacrifices. I remained good in school and quiet in church, but when the grown-ups weren't watching I did all I could to prove I was not good and quiet. I was a fake and I learned to be --I thought-- pretty good at it. On the surface, I passed for a Christian, but I was not a Christian.

Fast forward twenty-five years, two marriages, two children, two divorces, lots of frustration and striving, even more guilt and weariness, to a time when I finally threw my hands up in surrender. Weakness, rebellion, ignorance left me decimated. On the surface, I was a mess; I didn't pass for anything much --certainly not a Christian. But I was the most authentic me I'd ever been. All the things I believed about God, now in the wreckage of my decisions, I promised to trust. I had no place to go but before the throne of God --homeless. I had no one who could save me from myself or even knew just how bad and how fake and how lost my self was --alone. I couldn't do anything to survive that kind of brokenness, much less make anything great out of it --weak. I'd been smacked squarely in the face with my arrogance, my do-it-yourselfism, my self-indulgence, and had learned the hard way that I had no idea what I was doing --ignorance and rebellion. But, I was a Christian. I am a Christian.

C.S. Lewis said, "The Christian does not think God will love us because we are good, but that God will make us good because He loves us." And I'm trusting Him to continue making me good. I am leaving everything in His hands and walking in a life planned by the One who loves me like no other. And if I appear broken or put together or frazzled or pious or tired or jealous or gracious --however I appear-- I will trust God to do whatever it takes in me to make me look more like Him, inside and out. Because I am a Christian.

Photo courtesy Mark Sutherland