Kindly, Do What He Commands

Has God ever told you to do something? Of course, “Remember the Sabbath to keep it holy,” and “Honor your father and mother.” Of course those things, but has God ever "told" you to do something else, something specific to you, something not explicitly spelled out in the pages of Scripture or preached about on a Sunday morning? Some might call it "putting something on your heart." For instance, Ephesians 4:32 says, “And be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God in Christ forgave you.” But, do we always know what, exactly, “kind” is supposed to look like in a situation?

I had a friend —well, because of Scripture’s direction with regard to kindness, I still have that friend —but this friend was doing something that, had she been watching herself do it, as we tend to see ourselves doing things in a dream, she would have been mortified. I prayed (and stressed, I’ll be honest) for months over this “thing.” In prayer, I went through the Five Stages of “Beef.” (You know, the stages you encounter when someone close to you has crossed the line and now, you’ve got beef.)

- Stage One: Hearing Check. Did she just say that? And weeks later, Oh, yeah, she said it again! Is this is becoming “a thing?”

- Stage Two: Self-Check (May require the participation of another loving friend with wisdom). What would you think if you heard someone say…? Am I being overly sensitive, or does that bother you, too? Maybe I’m out of line but, is that normal?

- Stage Three: Rationalizing. This is really unlike her. She’s been under a lot of stress lately; maybe that’s the cause of it. Should I just give Sis a mulligan on this one and see what happens?

- Stage Four: Reoccurrence and Commission. Ok, this thing continues to be a thing. I can’t let her go on like this. Someone is going to get hurt. This problem is only going to get larger. If I am the friend that I say I am, I must speak up.

- Stage Five: The Talk. Sis, I have been praying about this, and I’m not sure what your thoughts are, but this is what I see…

Now, I want you to know, these steps do not exist in a vacuum. Along with this goes much praying and, for me, much whining, dragging my feet, and wishing “she” would just stop what she is doing or saying-- even that I could just be wrong: Please convict me of my own self-seeking so I don’t have to do this. You see, I typically do not like confrontation. I had enough of it in my younger years to last me a lifetime, and trust me when I say, it wasn’t practice. As a child, I fought with my brother daily; in my teen years, my parents; I spent my twenties fighting everyone (mostly the Holy Spirit, I was later to find), and my thirties were spent doing battle with an ex-husband.  Rather than fighting the true enemy, I fought those around me, people who were as lost and desperate as I was. I fought hard, I fought long, and I fought all wrong, without godly perspective and without the right preparation. So when it comes to confronting others--even in love --it’s not one of those things that causes me to bristle with excitement.

What, exactly, should I say? Are You sure I have to do this? You’re not just going to make her stop? What do I do if she tells me to mind my own business? What do I say if she tells me I’m being too judgmental? What if she no longer wants to be my friend?

All of those things give me pause, but we are called to build one another up and speak the truth in love (Eph.4:11-16); we are commanded to walk alongside one another as we imitate Christ and work together to keep each other in the way, to pick one another up when we stumble (Galatians 6:1-2). And when God tells us to move, we get move. So, I did. And the friendship didn't detonate in a burst of tears or hurt feelings or bitter clap-backs. It was fortified, in fact, because it was obedience motivated by love, love demonstrated by obedience, and a whole lot of grace. Grace from my friend that, even though I was clumsy and visibly uncomfortable, and probably didn't do it the way Jesus would, she heard His heart through my bumbling. And grace from God that He was with me and blessed my desire to obey.

Have You Got Time for a Lesson?

When was the last time you were in Sunday school? Maybe your church is blessed to have an adult Sunday school program, but I think most people, upon hearing "Sunday school" have visions of Sword drills and wooden chairs, of an ancient upright piano in the corner and a teacher banging out I'm in the Lord's Army, and maybe, a woven rag rug reserved especially for Bible story time. Personally, I think of my mother cramming fat little legs into tights like sausage casings --mine, not hers. I think of learning to pray with hands folded and eyes closed. I think of a tiny straw basket with change clattering in the bottom and a man named Jack who stole quietly into the classroom with a big old envelope to collect the contents of the basket and count the attendees. I think of a children's Bible spread out on my knees as I was told to read my Bible every day. But, for whatever reason, I didn't get it. I mean, I knew that's what Christians did, I just didn't get the purpose; I didn't understand why they did that.

I thought prayer was something you did because you needed stuff, and if you hadn't thanked God for the stuff He gave you last time, before you asked for more stuff this time, you weren't likely to get it. Gratitude is just polite.

I thought offering was something you gave because the church asked. It would be rude and people would think less of you if you refused when the basket was passed. Giving a quarter is socially acceptable.

I thought Bible reading was for people who really liked to read all those crazy names, and for people who talked like We thank Thee, O Lord and Thou art holy. Bible reading was for people who were really holy, the people God loved.

And, truthfully, I thought these things (or some other "mature" version of this foolishness) for years. By God's grace, He opened my eyes.

I pray because having conversations with those I love is important. I love God, and I want to talk to Him as much as I am able because I love Him the most. I pray because I want Him to talk to me; I listen and make room for Him in the quiet to direct my paths.

I give because I wouldn't have it without God. He is deserving of my worship, and I can worship by giving something back. I give because it reinforces my need for Him and it teaches me just how good He is. He accepts my offering (despite His not needing it, and His having far more than I could ever give) because He wants me to be a part of the good that can be done in His name; He wants me to see cars purchased and wells drilled and electric bills paid, so I can be a part of His kingdom going forth and I can be encouraged by what I see.

I read the Bible because it helps me to know what God has commanded me to do (for my own good and His glory) and keeps me from going my own way. I can read the accounts of those God has called and blessed just like me, and learn from their mistakes, and know that if God helped them, equipped them, forgave them, rescued them, never left them, He will do the same for me. I read so I can share with others the God who loves me and gave His life for me, and they can know Him, too. And I read so that I can live the life Christ purchased for me at the cross, because I can't live it unless I know what it is.

Whatever images Sunday school conjures up for you, I pray they go far beyond fond memories. I pray they were a learning experience for you. I pray you learned the right lessons and learned them well. If not, it's never too late. And it doesn't have to be Sunday.

Washing Away the Shame

It's been a while since I've donated blood. I used to schedule my next appointment as I was leaving one-- every eight weeks like clockwork. I'll be honest, something happened at an appointment a while back that left me feeling a little meh; so, I lost my mojo. This year I decided to grow up, put it behind me, and get back to doing something I really believe is worthwhile and requires so little effort on my part. I have to add, recently, I have been doing some work on myself in the area of "shame." I've been reading and working out of an excellent book, The Soul of Shame, by Curt Thompson, MD. So, I'm sitting there at this appointment, feeling a little uneasy because of the way I was treated a few years ago and, at the same time, feeling pretty good about overcoming this hurdle, bringing something I feel badly about into the light and getting rid of its hold over me. 

Judi! the phlebotomist calls out. Have a seat here and we'll complete your profile. State your name, birthdate, blah, blah, blah... Oh my! You've given blood under Chambers (my maiden name), P-- (my first husband's name), Auri--Auri-- 

Aurilio! I interjected with my second husband's name, just wanting the Mickey Mouse Club roll call to be over. 

AND Murphy! she continued.

And that's when I heard it; it was shame speaking: She has no idea what my story is. How dare she judge me. I should just leave. Or maybe make up a story to explain all those names.

But then, the Holy Spirit opened my eyes. Oh, Satan, I see what you are doing here. I typically don't address him or give him credit for anything, but this was a first rate effort: using the truth about my past to lure me into doing something today I will surely regret tomorrow.

The next morning, I was studying Exodus 2:11-15. Moses, the adopted son of Pharaoh's daughter, had taken a walk in Goshen, the land of the Hebrew slaves. He witnessed an Egyptian beating a Hebrew man and, when he was sure no one was looking, killed the Egyptian. The following day on his walk, he saw two Hebrew men fighting and attempted to stop it; but the assailant responded Who made you a prince and a judge over us? Do you intend to kill me as you killed the Egyptian? Apparently, someone was looking, and shame was determined to strongarm Moses into making another bad decision. It's just like the Enemy to use truth to shake Moses. He would be called to lead the nation of Israel. He would be called to sit and judge them. When Moses stood before the burning bush, were those the words running through his mind-- Who made you a prince and judge over us? Were those the words that caused him to argue with God over His choice of leadership-- Who made you a prince and judge over us?

All throughout Scripture, shame is a "reward" for those who value empty things and lies, those who seek to kill God's people, those whom God has rejected, and fools; it is a sign of His judgment. Shame is something that those who are God's children, those who believe on Him are delivered from. As a society, we employ shame to corral folks into doing what is right: habitual lying will result in the loss of relationships and maybe even isolation from the rest of society. Who wants that? But shame in the hands of the Enemy can force us into hiding-- from others and from God. Look what it did for Adam and Eve! If shame can force us to hide from God, we will not enter God's presence, confess our sins, receive forgiveness and walk in that newness of life. If we disallow relationship with others, how can we follow Jesus' Great Commission and make disciples? How can we serve and love others if we turn our backs on fellowship? And if we're not out there doing good things in the name of Jesus, how will others give Him glory? It is in the Enemy's best interest to keep us burdened by shame, "hiding" our sin from God and our faces from one another, either out of embarrassment and fear, or out of sheer indignation.

The solution is transparency, honesty, vulnerability: Yes, I have messed up in the past; but I have claimed the forgiveness won for me at the cross, and I no longer do the sinful things I used to do. That kind of integrity isn't always met with approval and understanding in this world; but our relationship with God-- if we are His --will stand throughout eternity. Romans 10:11 assures us, For the Scripture says, 'Everyone who believes in him will not be put to shame.'  It may be just like the Enemy to use shame to force us into hiding, but it's just like Jesus to use His own blood to set us free!

We've Got Problems

We've got problems. Who doesn't, right? But our problems look like this:

And this:

And this:

No, we are not doing some sort of remodel or weird Fung Shui. This, among other things, is what it takes to leave the house safely. Just to go to church. Just to go to the grocery store. Cabinet locks to keep Mom from rifling through my make-up and hair products; shut-off valves to keep her from flooding the first two floors (again); and knobs removed from the stove so-- well, I'm sure you have it figured out.

Do these seem like huge problems to you? If I'm being honest, they really aren't big problems. It's just that, sometimes in my self-pity and pride, I wish these were not the problems we had. I wish we had "normal" problems like the rest of the people our age. You know, scheduling conflicts or health insurance that doesn't cover an endoscopy or children who don't appreciate the drum set we got their children for Christmas. Those sorts of things. Not parenting a parent. Not baby-proofing a house for a child that will never grow out of it. Not a ministry that will only end when my mother takes her last breath. These snapshots, these measures we have to implement, measures that will increase as we go along, are minor symptoms of a much larger disease.

Our whole world is broken. Sin's entrance and our acceptance of it-- alliance with it --makes this world the less than perfect place God originally created. That is the nature of the beast. However, in Christ, by His death and resurrection, we have hope for a perfect future and a new life today. Now I say all this because, a) as a disciple of Jesus Christ, I need to tell you the truth, and b) because, as a disciple, brokenness and the problems that plague me are all my fault. You see, in the moments that ratcheting sound of a child lock reminds me of all I have to go through, in the seconds it takes me to bend with bad knees to the floor and twist my arm behind pipes to shut off the water, and in the quest to hide all of my burner knobs-- my burner knobs from my kitchen --self-pity can rear its ugly prideful head. This is ridiculous! I shouldn't have to live like this. Why can't she just be normal? Our house looks like a war zone! I'm ashamed to have people over! This is all her fault. If she'd only taken better care of herself.  Under the cheapest of microscopes, I can see none of that is true. It is the hyperbole and dramatic trickery of an enemy. But it's these sorts of things, when spoken and entertained again and again, that can convince me my problems are with my mother. That it is all her fault. That she should serve as the target for all of my frustration.

Friends, my problem is not my mother. Nor is it the fact that waterproof carpeting in my house would be wildly unattractive and fireproof furniture just doesn't exist. My problem is me. If I really want to tell on myself, my problem starts with how I feel about the places God has put me, the ministry to which He has called me, the way He has planned for me to serve Him, and the mother He gave me. And, if you've been around any length of time, you know, when you've got a problem with God, the problem is you. My problems are good problems to have. Yes, because I have hair products and make-up to hide my flaws; yes, because we have running water; yes, because we have a kitchen that makes me happy and is a place where we can cook and fellowship. But these are good problems because God is showing me how to hold these things loosely, to steward them and take care that we don't lose them, but to not be concerned with how I think things are supposed to be, to learn to live in such a way that I love those whom He loves. He is teaching me that His way is better way than the self-serving way, and they look very different from one another. He is teaching me that when my relationships with the things and the others around me seem to be full of problems, I need to first examine my relationship with Him. It is our broken relationship with God that causes us brokenness among one another-- that causes us to break one another. 

I've got problems. We've all got problems. But what is God using your problems to say to you?