Mercy Given That Mercy Might Be Given

I am currently camped out at the kitchen table, waiting to have a discussion about the pile of wrappers we just found in our son's room. Granola bars. An entire box's worth. Found hidden in a sock. I want him to come sit with me, but he saw the pile now sitting before me. He knows we know. We know he knows we know. But I'm waiting to show him grace. That he doesn't know. I'm sure he expects a punishment. I'm sure he believes a lecture is impending, something about integrity or food in his room. But that is not the case. Because this is a story of mercy. Oh, trust me, I'm not tooting our own horn: I'm talking about the mercy God has shown us.

I've written several times recently about addiction and eating and how that has been a difficult thing for me to get past, to put to death. I'm still not fully there yet. I still have bad days, days when the empty feeling is so at home in my soul it takes half a bag of chips or half a tray of baklava --or both! --before I feel sick enough to notice what I've done. There is an automatic response, like swatting a fly or blurting out a curse, that was programmed into me years ago as I relied on my own devices to cope with issues. (Which, btw, just causes its own issues: There is salvation in no other.) But those days are much less frequent than they were a couple months ago. I'm not counting days of sobriety. Sobriety is a term used for facing life free, present, and without the crutch of substance or self-created and self-destructive behavior. And though that is how I'm living, this is not something I am working on. This is God's grace, freedom I was graciously given. I am merely believing I have it and seeking daily to position myself in such a way to receive it. Receiving what I already have. Remaining as close to Him in quiet and prayer and worship and study, agreeing with whatever His Spirit wills to do in me. 

That is why this is a story of mercy. Because months ago, when my forty-plus year struggle with self-abuse and idolatry reached mind-boggling depths, someone decided that was enough. I hated how unhealthy my body felt. I was exhausted by the cycle of make a resolution-sin-shame-->make a resolution-sin-shame. I felt like an epic hypocrite, celebrating God's power and dominion, encouraging others to trust Him for everything, and eating my way through anxious feelings every afternoon. But I can't even say it was I who called it quits. After all, I've called it quits time and time before --even for years at a stretch. This? This is different. This is mercy. This is a word behind me, saying, “This is the way, walk in it,” this is the prodigal come home to unconditional embrace, this is abiding and abundant, grace upon grace. And this may seem a bit dramatic, but it's also the means by which my Redeemer and Restorer, my Deliverer and Defender is enabling me to have this little conversation with a young man looking to fill the gaping hole in his soul. I.Get.It. And I get it because God is merciful! My poor husband, God bless him, doesn't quite understand it, but he's willing to try. And that, too, is mercy. Again and again, threads of mercy woven throughout this story.

In difficult times we're encouraged by Romans 8:28, And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose. We want to know life will be okay again. But what mercy in the assurance that when things are already improving, when things are good, God is working that good for something even better. It is His mercy He demonstrates in His dealings with His people that we may not only receive it for ourselves, but we might use it to show mercy toward others! 

There's No Keeping It Under Wraps

Scott and I met at work. Specifically, I was one of his bosses. Years later, when circumstances took a crazy turn and we found ourselves dating, it was, as they say, frowned upon by the management. We attempted to keep things covert. There were those who knew, those who thought they knew, and those who had absolutely no idea. I felt my face flush when we talked on the phone; my expression automatically lightened when he walked into the room. It was tough keeping our feelings for one another under wraps.

Romance is great, but I have been thinking of Abram and Sarai. You may be more familiar with Abraham and Sarah, but when we are first introduced to them, they are Abram and Sarai. Obviously, there was a name change that occurred; but before I get to that, you need to know that "Abram" means exalted father, and "Sarai" means contentious one or princess, depending on your source. But God changed their names. In Hebrew culture, names were a reflection of one's character or destiny. It makes sense that Abram would have been given a name that reflected paternal leadership: his parents would have wanted him to father many children and propagate many descendants. And who can't imagine naming their adorable little pink bundle Princess, or a shrieking, insatiable little girl Contentious One? The problem is, Abram had no children at all, and Sarai was likely shamed because of her inability to bear children. Not quite the dynamic duo their names implied. God had a plan, and because it was not a simple little plan to give Abram an heir and erase Sarai's shame, there had to be a HUGE promise, accompanied by a name change. Abram would no longer be exalted father, but he would be the father of many nations! Sarai would no longer be a princess wounded by the contentious words and side-eyes from other women, she would be the mother of multitudes! Abraham and Sarah were to walk into their new names; they were to become who God said they were. But it wasn't going to happen overnight. In fact, it would take twenty-five years! What?! Oh, and by the way, Abraham and Sarah were about seventy-five and sixty-five, respectively, when God gave them the promise of a son, the start of a nation. 

Imagine this, though: Abraham and Sarah would no longer call one another by their old names; in the neighborhood, at the grocery store, they'd identify one another by their new names. They'd have to stop people from using their old monickers and request they be called by the promise God had given them! Imagine a barren sixty-five-year-old, pushing an empty stroller up to the weaver, ordering a baby blanket and leaving her name for pick-up: Mother of Multitudes, please. *eye roll* Meshuggah. Barrenness would have become the least of Sarah's worries. How long before the snarky comments of women at the well turned to heads shaken in pity? And Abraham, he was pretty well-to-do before he received the promise of God. Imagine the response in the boardroom when he announced his name change and continued to insist that's how he be addressed, despite his wife's age, despite the passage of time. Did his clients trust his judgment anymore? Did his servants continue to respect him? Were the stockholders up in arms? With a name change handed down to the couple by Almighty God, there'd be no keeping it a secret. If they wanted this child, if they wanted to serve God, if they wanted to be people of promise, they had to use the names God had given them, they had to go public. No matter how ridiculous people thought they were.

If you've been a Christian for any length of time, you know. If you're just getting started, buckle your seatbelt. If you've been dabbling in the idea of following a Savior who is the only way to a restored relationship with God, but you're afraid it's going to be way too vanilla for you --oh, Dear One, you can't be more wrong! Jesus is the Son of the God who named His people twenty-five years before He brought to bear the fulfillment of that title. Jesus is the Son of God who came to bring a sword, who came to upset the status quo; He charges His followers with the task of changing the world by doing the things that were and are counter cultural. We are not to sit quietly by, complying with every whim of society. We work to bring glory to God, for His pleasure, and work that others may do the same. And it is not for the faint of heart. Instead, our hearts should be so fixated on Him, so transformed by His Spirit, we acquiesce to whatever He would have us do. Even demonstrating before a vast and watching world the God we humbly serve. If our hearts are as they should be, there should be no keeping it to ourselves.

Midweek: Lessons Learned in Adoption #1

The adoption process has been a huge part of our lives for the past year. I have been unable to write about some aspects because of the legal nature; I have been hesitant to write about it because of the personal nature. Now that it has become official, now that the newest Murphy has been made such in the eyes of the law, I'd like to share what I have learned along the way.

I'm guessing that many of us can't even imagine what it would be like to be adopted. Before a year or more ago, I couldn't imagine what it was like to adopt. But through this process, I have learned about the needs of children waiting for adoption --even children who are not legally children! --those in their late teens and early twenties who are simply looking for a family to support them through those first difficult years of adulthood or provide a home for them to return to when dormitories shut down for breaks. (Sincerely, these are the ones who break my heart.) And I have learned a bit about trying to see things through the eyes of children whose only parents are the guardians and hard-working foster parents assigned to them by our state's system. I have learned about us, our motives, our weaknesses, our God-given strengths, our purpose. I have learned a little more about why I resisted (and, in mindset, sometimes continue to resist) adoption by my Heavenly Father, and a little more about the love it takes for Him to adopt me in the first place. Over the next couple of Wednesdays, I'd like to share with you some of the lessons learned about adoption --the perfect adoption by our Heavenly Father and the shadow of it here on earth.  

Out of love and out of obedience, Scott and I began the process more than three years ago. Before that, we'd "fallen into" fostering two children. It was a Hey would you be interested in... letter, and a We'll be at your house in an hour with the children phone call kind of thing. Just like that, we were foster parents. And it was chaos. It was one of the hardest seasons we'd encountered up to that point. It tested our marriage and our work relationships. It taxed our time and living spaces. It canceled plans and created ones of which we were not particularly fond. And we fell deeply in love with the children and the privilege of being part of something. We wouldn't have traded those days for the world (or so we thought). Our home became unbearably silent and suffocating the day they were gone. 

With the passage of time, Scott began discussing with me the idea of adoption; my thoughts had turned toward writing and pouring into my mother: at best, I would agree to fostering. But God had shown us what a closed door looks like --they slam without a sound --and I began praying that, rather than my trying to change my husband's mind, God would handle it from His angle. 

The Lesson: I would encourage you to pray, without ceasing --especially with regard to your relationships. Whether you are praying, Lord, is it Your will that we adopt?, or Please teach me how to love and be loved, God hears and will answer. Be prepared to accept His answer. If He has brought you to it, He will bring you through it. And by that I don't mean it will go your way; I don't mean you will come out unchanged or unwounded. What I mean is, He will be with you, and He will do something wonderful out of it. We pray in accordance with His will, and He does the work. He changes hearts and changes circumstances. We obey and He moves. To fight and argue --particularly with those in our family, and no matter how "right" we may be --can provide the perfect opportunity for Satan to sow seeds of dissention and unforgiveness. Nothing is stronger than the power of God, and as I've learned, I don't always know what is best.

    

Relationship to Reconciliation

Ram Dass, a spiritualist and author once said, "We're all just walking each other home." Martin Luther is credited with saying, "We are all mere beggars showing other beggars where to find bread." Humble approaches to relationship (though, sadly, Dass was not intentionally walking others to Christ). 

2 Corinthians 5:17-21 is one of the clearest, most humbling expositions on our "job" as citizens of the Kingdom of God living in relationship on Earth:

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new. Now all things are of God, who has reconciled us to Himself through Jesus Christ, and has given us the ministry of reconciliation, that is, that God was in Christ reconciling the world to Himself, not imputing their trespasses to them, and has committed to us the word of reconciliation.

Now then, we are ambassadors for Christ, as though God were pleading through us: we implore you on Christ’s behalf, be reconciled to God. For He made Him who knew no sin to be sin for us, that we might become the righteousness of God in Him.

Simply put: We have been saved and transformed, reconciled with our Creator; now go, develop relationships, and show others they can be also!

In her novel, Glittering Images, Susan Howatch explores the existential crisis of her character, Rev. Canon Dr. Charles Ashworth. He has developed dual personalities; not in the sense one is acutely aware of the other's activity, but in the same way we sometimes tend to move seamlessly from our "public" self to our "private" self. Ashworth's dominant public persona had been constructed to gain approval and disguise feelings of worthlessness; but a public breakdown causes him to seek the help of Father Jonathan Darrow.  

"I SUPPOSE you now want me to admit," I said later as Darrow sat down beside me on the bench in the herb-garden, "that there are a bunch of terrible skeletons in the family cupboard."

"Charles, I'm just the porter with the trolley. I'm not here to criticise (sic) the quality of your luggage or to order which bag you should put down. My function is simply to offer you the chance to get rid of any bag which you don't want to carry any more, but the decision to keep or discard each bag must be yours and yours alone."

What a marvelous picture of how we can present the Gospel to others! What a marvelous picture of how Jesus presented Himself to me! This is what coming alongside others can look like. And I can't say this without mentioning, this is how we've seen our pastor do this hundreds of times. Involvement. Investment. Interest. No fanfare or gimmicks. Without judgment or unnecessary rebuke. Not ignorant or accepting of sin, but seeing those held in its clutches, needing to be free, and giving them the One Way to freedom. Here's what it means to be free in Jesus. Watch what I can do, how I can live, because of Jesus. You can, too. Relationship with the goal of reconciliation. 

My father dabbled in sales back in the day. I say "dabbled" because I distinctly remember boxes and boxes of product in our garage long after he had quit the business. Perhaps he was his best customer. Nevertheless, I remember him telling my mother with confidence, "The product sells itself!" Not to belittle the Gospel in any way, but Jesus doesn't need our flashy antics or a worldwide platform. The Gospel works and does its best work when we simply strive to be honestly and fully who God made us to be; and we open our arms and hearts to demonstrate and facilitate the coming to reconciliation of those around us.