Counting the Miles

This is the year my husband and I and many of our friends have one of those "milestone" birthdays. I am excited for it. I really do hate trifling with all of those twenty-sixes and forty-twos. Let's just get to the big ones! My husband does not share the same sentiment. His body is wearing out, and as a big, strong man with an equally big, strong personality, I can understand his animosity toward the passage of time and all of the changes that come with it. That's not to say my body is not wearing out --for sure it is, but as women, we are not tasked with the guarding of our doors and the defense of those more vulnerable in the same way our husbands are. Generally speaking, we do not feel the same obligation to remain physically strong. Time is no more merciful to us, however. All things are susceptible to the ravages of use and time. Or maybe not.   

In Numbers 14:29, we read that God punished the complaints of His people by causing them to wander in the wilderness until the generation twenty-years old and older were no more. Forty years for the sin of others! Though, I wonder if those who survived could ever be judged innocent. I am inclined to think God took mercy on those younger because their leaders were such a terrible example. Anyway, I've always been fascinated by the declarations in Deuteronomy 8:4 and 29:5; the focus of both passages being God's goodness toward His people, His provision for them in the wilderness --wilderness they were forced to traverse because of the nation's offenses toward Him. 

Now, the Second Law of Thermodynamics states that the state of entropy of the entire universe, as an isolated system, will always increase over time. Simplified, natural things tend not to improve or renew with age: trees rot, mountains crumble, and people die. We know it is likely we will one day be forced to repair our vehicle, replace our phone, or buy a new dishwasher. We expect things to fail and people to get sicker with age. But God! Deuteronomy shows us the mercy of God, His grace and provision for His people. Sure, they had sinned; sure, their parents and grandparents perished in the wilderness; but God sustained them with more than the food and drink necessary to keep them alive! When they arrived in the Promised Land, they arrived in the clothing they wore when they left Egypt! Not in tatters. Not too small --Can you wear the same jeans you wore at nineteen? Not with broken straps or holes in the bottoms. Deuteronomy 8:4 says their feet didn't even swell! No bunions or blisters! Forty years, and yet, time had no bearing on their most essential resources.         

Will God keep us free of wrinkles and backaches? Perhaps. Can we be assured our bills will always be paid and our fridge forever brimming with good foods? Perhaps. But regardless of how God's goodness will be manifested in our lives, we can be assured it will be. Natural Law tells me my birthday party balloons will never automatically inflate but will eventually deflate. Probably before I even notice the new pain in my shoulder. But God's Law says that He is good and good to His people; He is Provider and Protector. We need not fear the consequences of age or entropy or life in a broken world. We can relax, stop worrying about the what ifs, and humbly receive the good God desires to give us. No matter how many milestones lie before us!

  

What Jesus Has Prepared

I'm getting ready to do what I estimate to be my eighth load of laundry in two days. The flu has been unkind to us this week --kinder to some more than others. I happen to be that some. Therefore, I am tasked with all those things others are unable to do. And besides God's grace, besides the secret potion I've been taking to boost my immune system, I have been running on rage and self-destructive independence, 'cause that's what I do. 

I am angry because, since November, we can't seem to catch a break. It's been physical hurdles and emotional breakdowns. Even L's adoption, which should have been the highlight of our December was infused with its own brand of chaos, surrounded by other events that threatened to rob it of its glory, and has been pursued by additional paperwork, misinformation, and clerical error. So, I clean. And I cook. And I take out my frustration on keyboards and crusty trashcans and poor defenseless socks. And like Martha, sister of Mary and Lazarus, I whine, Lord, do You not care that I have been left to do all of this work alone? Not a self-absorbed perspective at all. While the frustration might be totally understandable, the reaction is uncalled-for. Self-destructive independence? A level of it-has-to-be-done-NOW that will land me feeling under the weather days from now? Finger-pointing and envy? Worried and bothered and anxious, the Amplified Version says.

Here's what struck me as I furiously chucked clothes from the washing machine into the dryer, look at the second half of verse 38: and a certain woman named Martha welcomed Him into her house. Martha welcomed Jesus. Imagine that. Greeting Him at the door with face beaming, maybe even a bit of a curtsey. Did she bid Him Sit down, that His feet might be washed. Maybe she got Him a drink after showing Him to the best seat in the house. Such a friendly, hospitable scene. Until... What happened? Had Martha not gotten the recognition she was sure she deserved? Had the table been beautifully set? Was the smell of a perfectly roasted young goat wafting through the air? Did Jesus sit down and find Himself immediately gazing into the hungry eyes of Mary, eager to know what He had prepared? Had Jesus ignored all of Martha's preparations in favor of dispensing a blessing of His own?

And this is where I've decided to sit. In the midst of all of these difficult things, in the midst of giving care and responding to problems I did not create, in the midst of serving people who don't want to sit still or lie still either, in the midst of what should have been vs. what is (according to my plan, anyway), in the midst of the needs of others and the noisy, ceaseless opinions of my flesh, I will remember the response of the One who arrived to us prepared. One thing is needed, and Mary has chosen that good part, which will not be taken away from her. The good thing is that which is needed. Have I chosen the good part? or am I searching for a thing or condition I have decided I want? Have I welcomed Him with a flourish and a pasted-on smile but have decided I am not interested in what He has prepared for me? No, Jesus, here's what I've done! Bless this! The good part, the needed part is that which is eternal, that which cannot be taken away from us. And laundry ain't it!  

      

Midweek: Lessons Learned in Adoption #2

As I mentioned last week, my husband and I embarked on this journey to form an adoptive family more than three years ago. We've learned some things along the way, and I'd like to share with you some of the lessons about adoption we were granted, lessons about spiritual adoption and that which we imitate here on earth. Last week, I focused on one, prayer. Today, there are a few. 

Adoption on earth takes time. There is paperwork --lots of it --and background checks, information disseminated, information received. You are asked to talk about your upbringing and some of your personal successes and failures. Having been parents prior to adoption, we were questioned about our past parenting methods and our relationships with our adult children. Why do you want to adopt? What do you know about adoption? What are your concerns about adoption? What types of special needs, if any, are you able to accommodate? (and there is a list --an extensive one!) In the midst of all of this, we had "life" to do. We were still caring for my mother, still working in and out of our home, still trying to lead our family. It seemed, every time we turned around, our agency wanted more. 

The Lesson: There are two. The first is, there doesn't get any "more" than the life of our Savior poured out for the sake of those God chooses to adopt. Despite His glory, despite our rebellion, despite all the other things He had to do, Jesus, King of kings came to earth to have His nose wiped, His feet dusty, and His body broken for us. He withheld nothing. The second goes hand-in-hand with it: level of commitment. For love and obedience, He faced not with ignorance, but with eyes wide open, the terror before Him, even praying there might be granted another way. For love and obedience, He allowed Himself to be publicly humiliated and punished. For love and obedience, He laid down His life. He was that committed, that He withheld nothing.  

Once the paperwork was done, once a family profile was completed, once a flyer had been designed --yes, they "advertise" perspective parents and children among different agencies at various events --once all of this was complete, it was time to attend some of those events. Our first and only, was almost two hours away. When it was over, the walk to the truck was marked by tears. What sort of child puts himself out there like that? What sort of child makes small talk with dozens of people in a day, hoping that one of those might be her new mother? How did we as a society get to this place? The hope and courage in each face I saw there moved me deeply. Somewhere, someone had instilled that in them; the hope that home exists and the boldness to move toward it, to leave all pretense and fear behind, and travel toward it.

The Lesson: But for the grace of God and the work of the Holy Spirit, there would be no one of us searching for a Heavenly Home or the Savior that made its availability possible. The Holy Spirit convicts us of truth and draws us toward our forever home. We are enabled not only to believe, but to act; not only to hear but to obey. We are vessels of His power, and according to His will, we can do things we would have thought impossible because we believe in those things we once thought impossible. I guess you could say this lesson is about level of commitment as well. 

As I mentioned, this was our first and last event. Before we had an opportunity to attend another, our agency "matched" us with a child. In other words, they had come across the flyer of a child they thought would thrive with us and connect to us. They made their recommendation to us, and we decided to meet him.

The Lesson: There is an invitation. How were you introduced to God? Did those who recommended Him speak truthfully, represent Him accurately? Did you accept or refuse the invitation? Have you continued to develop your relationship with Him, or did you meet Him, invite Him into your home, and forget all about Him? Unthinkable in terms of adopting a child or taking a spouse, right? What have you made of the invitation God has extended? Level of commitment again? Could be. Maybe there's a single lesson to be learned today after all.

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!