Songs in the Dark

Credit: testimoniesofheavenandhell.com

Like many of you, I'm going to sit down to a table this Thursday groaning with way too much food and celebrate with my family amid a practical example of the plenty we've been given. And plenty it is--food, drink, shelter, safety, wealth, health--a very long list. But something's been nagging at me, that little voice that says that I'm missing the point, and by a long shot. Is Thanksgiving just for us, I'm wondering? What about people who are lonely, or hungry, or poor, or in constant pain? What are they supposed to be doing on Thanksgiving Day?

The simple answer is that they are, like us, supposed to be giving thanks, too. But for what?

Well, this is my considered answer. Everybody, whether in plenty or in want, is supposed to be giving thanks for the same thing. It has much less to with the people around the table and their prosperity or good fortune than with the understanding of their thanksgiving in the first place.

Habbakuk got it:
Although the fig tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines; the labor of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield no meat; the flock shall be cut off from the fold, and there should be no herd in the stalls: yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the God of my salvation.--Habakkuk 3:16-17

There is only one thanksgiving to which we are called--thanksgiving to God for Himself. 
Any unbeliever can be thankful to their own deity--karma, fate, circumstance, personal fortitude--for the plenty of their life. It's easy. It is only the person of faith that can give thanks in want.

Think about it.  

Sooner or later, everybody has trouble. Without the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, trouble brings misery with it, but with the Spirit, trouble brings focus. While not devoid of sadness and difficulty, Spirit-led troubles include a sense of purpose and direction. They take us someplace. Our circumstances, whatever they are, are a gift from God. Do we give thanks, then, for illness or hunger, or loneliness or poverty?  Yes, for these, too. God, after all, either brings them or allows them. Whatever our condition, it came to us through God.
Rejoice in the Lord always.--Philippians 4:4

Troubles are God's assurance that we are ready for more of Him. If I am ill, God changes me to find His healing, even when He doesn't bring a cure. If I am lonely, He calls me to His side. If I am afraid, He calls me to trust.

So it's Thanksgiving and what are we to be thankful for? Give thanks to God for God.

Thanksgiving is not about plenty, even when we have it. Thanksgiving is about the places in our lives where we are starving for God's riches. It is where God opens His arms to us as only He can. It is about how we find God more in what we still need than in what we already have, about resting in Him when everything else has fallen short.

It is a sweet, poignant "Thank you" sung in the dark.

God Has Free Will, Too

photo: missingsecrettoparenting.com

God gave me free will--a very good thing--at least I think so.
Why? Why is free will a good thing? What does it let me do?
Well, free will allows me to choose without being forced. In essence, free will allows me to do exactly as I want to do. I like that.

Here's what free will sounds like:
"I want vanilla, not chocolate."
"I want to marry Bob, not Tom."
"I want to go to Tahiti, not Atlanta."
"I want to sleep late, not go to church."

See?
The goal of free will, from my point of view, is to figure out, then act on, what I really want. From God's point of view, however, free will is a bit different. God wants me to want what He wants.
I am the vine and you are the branches. Whoever abides in Me and I in him, he it is who bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing.--John 15:5
Therefore, do not be foolish, but understand what the will of the Lord is.--Ephesians 5:17
I am in my Father and you are in Me and I am in you.--John 14:20 

Until I do, however--until I want what God wants, He will not stop me from making my own choices and, in the meantime, I make some pretty crummy ones. And, while I'm making these crummy choices, God is what?  He's patient. He's long-suffering. Remember what its' like when our own kids insist on doing what we know will lead to a crash-and-burn? Like that. It happens to everybody.

In the process, though, I've spent a lot of time saying No to God. 
While I'm saying No, however, I forget that  He can say No to me, too. I don't like that very much.
When I say No to God, I expect Him to be OK with that. He gave me free will, right? Well, God has free will, too. That's why it's a relationship. God will love me, but He will do it the way He wants, not the way I want.*

He did it to Paul, right?
Three times I pleaded to take [the thorn in my flesh] away from me. But He replied, "My grace is sufficient for you."-2Corinthians 12:8-9
Translation: I am not going to love you that way. I am going to love you with myself instead, with my very own presence. You will keep your thorn, but you will come to know me intimately.*

Not a bad deal when you think of it. God told Paul No to something small, but Yes to something much bigger. It's like asking for a scooter and getting a Lamborghini instead.

God said No to Jesus in the garden, too. Jesus wished for the cup to pass from Him, that horrible cup of pain, but God said No. Instead, He perfected all mankind through that suffering and made it the source of salvation for everyone.

He does the same thing for us. If Mother does not get well, if we don't get the job, if the godly husband I want is still not showing up, God is saying No, but it's OK. God always has a Yes to go with it. Don't see God's Yes in your life? Look around for Him. His hand is out, full of blessing. If not satisfaction, then comfort. If not health, then holiness. We so rarely ask for the eternal gifts, and these are His best ones.

*Henry Cloud and Jim Townsend, Boundaries, 1992, Zondervan

Quick to Judge: A Study in Black and White

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It just seems so easy for some people.
Right and wrong, I mean. Some just see it so clearly, with no fuzzy edges, with no confusing alternatives, with no options to reconsider.

Deciding right from wrong sounds like it should be easy, but it isn't. Not for a lot of us.
Most people will tell you that lying, for instance, is wrong.
But what about lying to save someone's feelings or their reputation or their life? Is it still wrong?
And how about harming someone? Is that always wrong?
How about protecting someone from attack? How about the times when civil courts exonerate the obviously guilty? Who protects their next victim?
And then there's obedience to authority--when can a child question? When a parent instructs them not to tell? When they teach a child to buy them drugs? When they say it's OK, just this once?

I think there's a reason some of these questions seem so easy for some and so hard for others--
People who judge quickly have often had to.
Some of us have grown up with the luxury of relative ease and security. Not so with everyone. Some people are born into a battle that they have to engage day by hard day, even from childhood. Their antennas always have to be up. Survival can depend on it.
The more often a person has had to make hard, life-changing, even life-saving decisions, the quicker they judge. They have had to. 
Someone in immediate danger can't pause to contemplate. They act.
A hard life can necessitate a habit of fast, hard decisions.

God, for His part, appreciates people of decision:
...he who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed like the wind.--James 1:5
He says He will show us what to do and expects us to do it.
This is the way. Walk in it.--Isaiah 30:21

God is saying that He's given us all we need already. He expects us to do something with it.
Decide. 
Judge when you have to. 
Now.

Yes, some people judge more quickly than others, but before you point an accusing finger and quote a Bible verse, find out why.
Maybe they've lived a life that necessitated extra practice.

Why You Can't Hurt Me Anymore

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Some days, I wish I wore shoulder pads.
I am tired of hurting.
It's the accumulation, I think, that piles up over long years, the catalog of hurts that comes with living.
What do I do with them?

I know this--I must choose my protection carefully.
I can put on shoulder pads, but not erect barriers.
If I protect myself too much, I will miss my life. I am going to have to endure some risk, and some hurt, if I am going to do any living at all.

The key is learning to recognize real danger.
Do not be afraid of those who can kill the body but not kill the soul.--Matthew 10:28
There is, after all, only so much another person can do to me. If I am to live at all, I will have to accept a measure of hurt.
My defense, though, is really a good offence.
I do have the power to kill old hurts and consign new ones to their proper place: it is the power to forgive.
Forgive as the Lord forgave you.--Colossians 3:13
 
And how do I do that?
I do it by remembering that, to some degree, I hand people the sticks with which they beat me.
If I hold on to hurt, it holds me captive in return.
If I take hurt in stride, chalking it up to the brokenness of this world and the people around me, I can reach out to, and be consoled by the only consolation truly available.
The Lord will protect you from all evil. He will keep your soul.--Psalm 121:7

The Baby Will Come

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In 1972, pregnant with my first child, I asked my mother, "How much will it hurt?"
"Don't worry," she told me. "You forget about it after the baby comes."

She was wrong about that.
I didn't forget--not then, and not through my second delivery. I still remember.
I remember the urgency.
I remember the  intensity.
I remember the whole, round, bigger-than-me desire to have the whole thing over with.
I remember how much, partway through, I wanted to give up the whole job.
But, once begun, I was stuck.
Once conceived, once carried, and so long anticipated, the baby would come.

The earth does the same thing.
God implanted in it the perfection of Himself, the pregnancy of His promise, and that child will, with or without our permission, be born.
And we groan in the waiting for it.
Every day, we feel how things ought to be and long for them.

Why do we know so much evil when God is so merciful? we ask.
Birth pangs.
Why do poverty, and sickness, and injustice continually plague us? we ask.
Birth pangs.
Why can't men and women just get along? we ask.
Birth pangs.
Every day, the earth swells with expectation of God's return, it leans into its own pangs of wanting, it opens the way and says, between cries, 
"Come, Lord Jesus!"

Creation was subject to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one Who subjected it, in hope that creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the glorious freedom of the children of God. We know that the whole creation has been groaning as if in the pangs of childbirth right up to the present time.--Romans 8:20-22


Do you remember your own pangs of childbirth?
Do they give you any insight about the world's imperfections and what joy might still be in store?

Ninja Kittens: I Should Have Known the Danger

Photo credit: motohell.com

Everything sweet in this world has a hard edge that also wounds.
Like a cuddly kitten that suddenly strikes with a sharp sword, warm days turn bitterly cold or dangerously stormy. Dreadful error shadows good intentions. Lovers and friends fail. Years melt a debutante into a crone.  Every flower eventually develops a curling edge of brown that precurses deterioration. Those close to our heart die.
I can't help but wonder why life is said to be a gift when it harbors so many bitter disappointments and hurts. 

And then I remember God.
You have filled my heart with greater joy than when their grain and new wine abound.--Psalm 4:7

God brings joy; life does not.
Life is the vehicle God made so that I could know the joy of loving Him who is perfection itself.
He gives me love so that I can return it.
He inspires hope so that I can survive life's inevitable wounds.

Whatever destruction people and circumstances bring, my God never changes.
No human being can make a promise they will keep. Knights in shining armor all eventually succumb to their own weaknesses. In the end, none of us can love one another through our worst moments. We will all shrink and retreat. The kitten will not only scratch...it will cut, and deeply.

But God stands firm. He knows I am dust and loves me still because I am the work of His own hands.
God alone brings me the joy of a new day, as long as I can recognize that joy as His and His alone.
Satisfy us in the morning with your unfailing love, that we may sing for joy and be glad all our days.--Psalm 90:14

Is It Time Yet?

I always got a kick out of our first glimpse of the adult Jesus at a party with his mother. When she asks Him to do something, He tells her He doesn't think it's a good idea.  Sounds like conversations I've had with my own thirty-something son:
"Not now, Mom."
"Really? Now?"
Sounds a bit like what Jesus said to his own mother:
Dear woman, why do you involve me? My time has not yet come.--John 2:4
At least He called her 'dear woman.'
But, aside from the common familiar comedy of it, the situation reminds me of something important.
Even in the kingdom of God, there are times for things.

Jesus knew this at the above wedding, when He told His mom that it was not yet time for Him to be acclaimed for public miracles.
He knew this later, when His friends went to Jerusalem for the festival, but He did not:
Therefore Jesus told them, “My time is not yet here; for you any time will do.--John 7:6
He also knew when His time had finally come:
Jesus replied, "The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified."--John 12:23

And He also knew when the time had not only come, but was over:
 “It is finished.”--John 19:30

It is the same for us.
There are times for things.
To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to reap, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to break down and a time to build up, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance...--Ecclesiastes 3:1-4

It's true.
Once a life situation begins, it will probably end.
Once we pick something up, we will probably have to put it down.
Once we take someone into our life, we will probably have to let them go.

Not worship, love, or my battle with sin, of course. Those will continue all my life.
But the others? They will all, at some time, end.
And it's OK.
Their time has either not yet come, or is over.
Really.

Waaaaa!

What do you cry about?
Be honest.
Sadness, loneliness, loss, physical pain, emotional hurt?
More often then not, this is the audio to that:  "Me. Me. Me."
Even empathy for someone else transfers from our own remembered pain.
Our tears are almost always all about us.
I do it, too.

We begin at birth with a cry of outrage when life smacks us with cold and discomfort, and we wail at its first assaults.
And they keep coming.
And, when they seem too much, we cry.

Did Jesus cry at birth?
He felt the pain and cold, too, but did He cry?
He wept later, but in very specific circumstances--over the sins of His people, and again at Lazarus' grave.  He wept for the death of people he loved. In no recorded instance did He cry over personal loneliness, insult, betrayal, or desertion.
Not like we do.
Jesus' flesh felt every body blow as deeply as our does, but He did not cry over them.
Why not?

Think about Him at His weakest moment--in the garden, sweating blood in an agony of anticipated suffering.
"Let this cup pass", He begged, but it would not.
He had come to the end of His human resources, but He did not cry.
I cry because I do not master my flesh.
Jesus, Master of all things, did.

He felt every pain, every hurt, as deeply as I do, but He did not give in to them.
Why not?  What was the difference?
He knew Himself.
He knew His Father.
He had already won.
I am supposed to know this, too, and in this knowledge, self-pity has no place.

Can I hold His kind of mastery over myself all the time?  No.
But in this, like in all things, Christ says,
"Follow Me."
"Be holy."
"My yoke is easy."

From the very first ones, all of my tears have been selfish.
Yes, tears sometimes come as a release, too, and I will still shed these, but I have no real reason to cry. Not ever.  Not really.
My Savior lives. He loves and cares for me.
What could I possibly cry about in the face of that?

Beyond the Bandaid

I am concerned about my son.
No--that's not right.
Just say it.
I'm worried about him.

Never mind why.  The reason doesn't much matter because he's a grown man and I can't do much about it.
But that doesn't stop the love.  Or the worry.

In fact, his maturity increases the concern because my ability to influence his situation decreases with his increasing age.
Unlike when he scraped his knee falling off a bike or when little Jimmy took a poke at him on the playground, I can't kiss away his hurt.
I can't fix it.
And parents are fixers.

So what do I do?  God has some advice:
This day I call heaven and earth as witnesses against you that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses.  Choose life, so that you and your children may live...Deuteronomy 30:19a

I want life and blessings for my children, but I can't get them by fixing their hurts and problems.  I do it by choosing God.

Can I bring my sons practical help?  Sure.  In fact, I should.
But that help is only a bandaid in the larger scheme of things.

My choosing God, however--walking with Him before my children and the world--gives God the opportunity He craves to do what only He can do.

How do I know this?  He told me:
Listen to His voice and hold fast to Him, for the Lord is your life.--Deuteronomy 30:19b

Choosing God first will probably alter the kind of bandaid I apply to my son's owie.
Choosing God first may open the wound farther so He can clean it out properly.
But choosing God brings real healing and everlasting life.
And that is what a mother ultimately wants for her sons.

Why Didn't I Take the Blue Pill?

Nuts. Here I thought I had to do something bad to succumb to evil.  I don't.  All I have to do is give up. 

Following Christ has brought so much to my life--a hope and a purpose, a solid foundation, a clear path to walk, a promise of eternity, the touch of God Himself--but sometimes it doesn't seem like enough.

It's not enough when justice does not appear to be served.
It's not enough when Christians don't act like Christ.
It's not enough when I get tired of fighting.
It's not enough when the world behaves so much like, well, the world.

When evil triumphs.  When power and privilege corrupt, then corrupt more. When people who have made wrong decisions make worse ones.  

Living went so much more smoothly when I went with the flow, when I let the world carry me along rather than buck its trend, even though I know its trend leads to destruction.
Anyone who tries to follow Christ is subject to this:
I am afraid that, just as Eve was deceived by the serpent's cunning, your minds might be led astray from devotion to Christ.--2Corinthians 11:3


In the end, an expectation of ease leads to evil.  It happened to Adam and Eve.  It happens to us.

We have got to understand that our lives as Christians will be hard and will not get much easier this side of heaven.  That's why God warns us that He has to be enough.  Always.  Just Him.
Or:
Since they did not think knowledge  of God worthwhile, He gave them over to a depraved mind to do what ought not to be done.--Romans 1:28

God gives us peace, but peace does not equal ease.
As odd as it sounds, peace comes from not giving up, from arming ourselves every day, from admitting that the world is Satan's territory and a hostile place, then living in it as God's own.  
Ease and comfort come with living in Satan's world as Satan's own, and this I cannot do.
I know the truth.  I already took the red pill.  There is no going back.

Lord search me; test me and know my anxious thoughts.--Psalm 139:23

Reaching In

God's most frequent admonition for us is to believe.  "Come to me," He says.  "Know me."  "Trust me."  And we do for a little while, but then the days come when we do not.  Heavy, dark days.  Lonely days.  Days when we know He has died and been buried and we don't know what to do next.  We heard that He had risen from the grave, but we haven't seen Him.

He has instructions for these times:
Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.--John 14:27
Do not worry about your life--Matthew 6:25
Cast your cares on the Lord.--Psalm 55:22

We try, but the sadness persists.

That is when our sweet Lord offers us His side.
Put your finger here.  Reach out your hand and put it into my side.  Stop doubting and believe.--John 20:27

He is real.  He had died and risen.  He has rescued us from death.  No matter how we feel, we must know that His wound  has bled real blood so that we can know peace, so that we can be free.  And when, on some days, the knowledge of these is not enough, we can reach our hand into His side, feel His pulse, and know, really know.

 He does not shrink back from our touch.  We cannot shrink from His.
I am with you always, to the very end of the age.--Matthew 28:20

Paul's Secret

The apostle Paul said that he was content in all circumstances. Well, I am not. I do not like sickness, trouble, or outright adversity. I do not like bad weather, hard days, or crabby people. Frankly, I do not think that he did either. Nobody does.

So what exactly did he mean?

I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation...Philippians 4:12

Paul needed to learn a secret in order to achieve this contentment. Well, Paul, give it up, will you?

I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus as my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things.--Philippians 3:4

His secret was knowing Christ. He gave up everything for this secret. He began life educated and influential, met Jesus, and left it all behind. Without money or power, Paul leaned only on faith in Christ, and he found it plenty. This was his secret.

But, be careful in this. He did not find faith by the giving up of money and power. Practical trouble and poverty do not automatically usher in faith--they are not admission into the throne room of God. We do not become holy by experiencing privation. And yet...

Trouble does seem to follow believers, however, doesn't it? Sometimes seemingly more than for unbelievers. What's up with that, God?

It's really not that hard to understand. Simply put, adversity endured brings faith, not because we are rescued out of trouble, but because God comes to us in the middle of it to a degree we never otherwise see.

"Oh, God," we say when things are good..."You are powerful and mighty and faithful. I love you." And it's true.

But when times are tough, and the sun begrudges its rising, and we wonder why in the world God opened our eyes on another sad day, to say "Oh God, You are mighty and powerful and faithful. I love you," means something quite different. On those days, we know that we know, and something firm and strong is built in us, a bulwark that supports and carries with all the assurance the love of an almighty God brings.

We pray so often for rescue from our troubles, forgetting that God comes on the wing of trouble more vividly than any other time. Trouble is more than how we grow--it is where we meet the Living God, able to see His glory.

I have been reading Paul wrong. He was not content with nasty circumstances any more than I am. He did not enjoy his troubles, but he did enjoy what God brought through them--abiding faith that comes not from rescue from them, but from having met God in them.