It's a Process

I have spent years hung-up on Paul. Not some guy on whom I've had a secret crush, but the Paul of the Bible, the Pharisee, the bounty hunter, the copious church planter and letter writer, the STOP IT guy. All throughout his letters, Paul tells those who believe in Jesus to stop acting as if they don't: stop walking "as the rest of the Gentiles walk, in the futility of their mind, having their understanding darkened, being alienated from the life of God..." (Eph. 4:17-19). Just stop it! Live like you are free --which those who have Jesus as their Lord and Savior are. But for me, that's been easier said than done; it's been tough relearning how to walk. Maybe the same is true for you.

Years ago, I had throat surgery. As a result, I had to relearn how to swallow. To swallow! Such a simple, natural thing. But, after my procedure, if I were to swallow in the same manner I'd always been doing it, I could aspirate. At the least, it would result in a terrible fit of choking. Everything about relearning to swallow was counterintuitive. They started me off with solids, even thickening my coffee and milk with a sort of gelatin. Only when I'd been able to tolerate those things could I move on to water or un-thickened liquids. Additionally, when swallowing, I now had to tuck my chin into my chest. Not what you'd expect, right? Normally, if you're trying to swallow, say a vitamin or something, you'd throw your head back, opening up your esophagus. Nope, I now had to tuck my chin to protect my trachea and my lungs. When I forgot to tuck or took too large of a gulp, I choked. It terrifying, but it was a process.

Relearning how to walk --now in newness of life in Christ, after we've been walking for years in the bondage of sin and death --can be a process as well. And it's required the sometimes unconventional and counterintuitive methods of the Holy Spirit. Maybe the folks in your neighborhood all attend the same church; maybe the new family who moves in next to you is really opposed to any sort of organized religion. The Holy Spirit may just be giving you an opportunity to use the gift of love and peace in a practical setting, honing those things in you, rather than surrounding you with people you love and people who agree with you. Maybe you've been praying about the new job you've been offered; instead, you might experience a health scare, which refocuses your attention on the thing He's been calling you to do for years, and you obey. Maybe you know you need to stop swearing, but you just can't seem to leave it behind. Who joins your gym? The guy who, when he's run out of obscenities makes up his own. It's like holding up a mirror; you are so repulsed, you stop swearing completely. You are relearning to walk, but it's a process.

It might be a long process, however. There are Christians who have struggled with gossip for years. If you need a prayer warrior or a faithful giver or a servant, they are your people, but every so often, they just can't keep loose lips zipped. Or Christians who are still working through substance abuse. They walk, they run, they soar, and they fall on occasion; but they repent and lean into truth, praying and hoping they will resist the next time. And I don't mean this is the way it's supposed to be, but I also don't believe failure has no purpose. Jesus tells us that in this world we will have trouble, and instructs us how to restore relationships with our Christians brothers and sisters; we are told to teach and admonish one another, forgive one another, and to confess our sins to and pray for one another. Would we need these things if we were all getting everything right all of the time? Failure can help us understand the struggles of others. Failure can keep us humble. It can show us the ways we are resisting that aren't working, and it can give us a window into the situations that can cause us to mess up in the first place --the times and places the Accuser is likely to make his appearance. Failure can be a part of the process. 

We need the teachers like Paul. Today, Paul is to my Christian walk what choking was to my relearning to swallow. Just stop it! Do what you know you're supposed to do. Stop insisting on your own way, or what you used to know. One by one, and by the grace of God, I am burning ships. I am committed to walking away from things I used to do or say or love, things that were the result of my separation from Jesus, and I am turning fully toward Him. I am not as fixated on what I am doing (or not doing), as I am on Jesus, the Reason I'm doing it. But it is a process.

Photo courtesy LuAnn Martin

What's Your Role?

I think I've told you this before: I'm a chucker. Meaning, if I haven't used it, worn it, or eaten it in the past year, it's gone. Okay, maybe not the eaten it thing. That was a joke. My mother, however, had a cardboard egg carton caterpillar from my year in Pre-K (?) Kindergarten (?) in her dresser drawer until I was well into my teen years. I made her throw it out. I really did see it as ridiculous. 

When my children were small, my "chucker-iness" caused me to develop the habit of taking pictures of all of my children's projects and favorite outfits. Besides, they were homeschooled, so pictures were a huge part of their end-of-the-year portfolios. Pictures were much more accommodating to my dislike for clutter than cardboard egg carton caterpillars. 

Fast forward to my 50s. A friend from Kindergarten and I reconnect. He gushes with his love for our elementary school, our teachers, our classmates --things I hadn't thought of in at least forty years. Listening to his fervor stokes my fire. I begin to put faces with the names he invokes. I recall the events and occasions he recounts. And I see my mom, the meticulous, faithful homeroom mother through the eyes of one of my then classmates. What was the ridiculous preservation of egg carton to me was to him another nurturing act by an adult who lived to make the lives of children a place of wonder and happiness.

 As I began to search through the relics of my childhood that remained, I saw my mother's collection of class photos, meticulously labeled with each child's name (even those that were absent that day). I found baby bracelets and locks of hair. My mother was a curator of history --mine and that of our family. She has kept obituaries and death notices of most of my aunts and uncles, biological and in-laws as well. She has kept rationing notices and memorabilia from World War 2. She has pictures of every Easter basket I ever had since I first drew breath and every Easter outfit, complete with gloves, hankie, and a new purse, since I could stand. She took pictures of each of our Halloween costumes which she handmade each year until I was in junior high (the costumes themselves were disposed of shortly after I graduated high school). Mom was a HOME maker in the truest sense of the word. She preserved history by preserving life and death. She saved for me and for anyone willing to sit through my 3D "slide show" a record of life --good and bad. She created a place to call home within my heart, reminders of the past, those things that, in part, made me who I am today. 

But there is a point to all of this --more than just making you wish you had a mom like mine. The point is, what we leave behind for others is important --even if it's not important to them right away. I think we've all had those people we have tried to connect with or guide or maybe share the good news of Jesus with, and they just weren't having it. Ephesians 2:10 tells us there are good works God has planned for His children to do. Galatians 6:9 tells us we shouldn't grow weary or discouraged in doing those things; "in due season we will reap if we do not lose heart." Maybe those folks will come to appreciate what we've said or done --isn't that what we want? Wouldn't that be ideal? But we all have free will and we all have the right to miss the boat. Nevertheless, Paul tells us, we will reap. There is something we as the keepers, the homemakers, the forgivers, the guides, the proclaimers, the memory-makers will receive through our efforts to walk in the good things God tasks us with doing. Just as long as we keep obeying, following the path Christ has laid out for us in the roles we have been given. 

As curators and as chuckers, but always in love.

All My Hope

Just a quick post to share another great resource for encouragement and truth. In this book by Julie Seals, All My Hope, she gives an account of the events of her life, events she experienced, but it is God's story from beginning to end. This is not some Christian memoir. Julie embodies the single-mindedness of Acts 20:24:

However, I consider my life worth nothing to me; my only aim is to finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me—the task of testifying to the good news of God’s grace.

She speaks as a witness to what God has done and not as the star of the show. On every page, she points to the Hope that is Jesus and the love He longs to pour out on each of us. 

If you don't have a personal relationship with Jesus, this book just might convince you that you need one. If you've forgotten your first Love, this book just might make you long to go back. If you love Jesus with all your heart, this book just might be the slowdown you need today to keep you going and encourage you to bring many others with you!

You can pre-order it now at All My Hope: A Prisoner No More: Seals, Julie: 9781610361620: Amazon.com: Books or on Julie's website julieseals.com

 

Waiting for Us

Not many people know this, and I haven't been compelled to talk about it here, but my husband and I are on an adoption journey. Five years ago, we began fostering two incredible children. They were young. We were pretty convinced we were old. Feel free to weigh in on that at any time. It turned out to be one of the most difficult, exhausting, rewarding, wonderful, rejuvenating periods we have ever put ourselves and our relationship through. When that season ended, we didn't breathe a sigh of relief, we didn't begin thinking about porch swings or golf swings; we wondered what on earth we were going to do with all of this free time. We looked around at our big house --which now appeared extravagantly big, and wondered what on earth we were going to do with all of this extra space. We each looked inside at our empty, aching hearts --mine felt more like a huge cavern, dark and echoey --and wondered if they would ever be full again. We spent some time examining our motives and goals, and then began the paperwork. Life happened along the way, and delays occurred. We didn't have any set timetable but God's, so we followed His lead. We are HERE. Just like those little red dots on the map that signify where you are in relation to the entrance and the exit, in relation to the food court and the first-floor Starbucks. We're not at the end, but we're not at the beginning either. We are pretty much right in the thick of things. And we're waiting.

The thing about this sort of waiting is, there is a child or children waiting as well. Waiting for a family. Waiting for answers. Waiting for a happy ending. Waiting for normal. Waiting for stability and security. Waiting for one life to end and another to begin. Waiting to hold a big green trash bag that contains only trash. Sooner or later, we hope, our waiting and his(?) her(?) their(?) waiting will end in a moment called "Us." And we will try to give our family everything it needs and, possibly, some of what it wants. We will fail and we will try again. We will succeed, celebrate, and move on toward the next mountain. We will wait for answers together, build a happy ending together, be as normal and stable and secure as we can be in this world, remember the past as a pathway to the present, be present in the present, and face the future together, and we will take out the trash --and only the trash --together. As I read long ago, we will strive to give one another roots and wings.

This began as a post about adoption. I was meaning to point to our adoption in Christ. Instead, I have talked about hope and fear and possibility and waiting and dreams. I have no delusions about the difficulties we may encounter --"in this world you will have trouble..." I have no misconceptions about trauma and pain --many of us have our own. I have no illusion of the perfect life --I haven't met anyone yet with one of those. But I do know what God can do. And if God has mapped out this path for us, it will be for our good and His glory, of that I am assured. Wherever we are in relation to the entrance or the exit, however long we wait, whatever happens when the waiting is over and the "Us" begins, we trust what God is doing. For all of Us.