My Sorrow, My Pain--My Purpose

At my age, I sometimes temper feelings of nostalgia, wishing I could start  over, only with the wisdom I've acquired.  I watch my brothers and sisters in this joyous family of God who have such clearly defined purposes and it's easy to give in to feelings of being “done,”  as though I've been dismissed, no longer have a job, or a service to offer the Saviour.  

When I turned a (ahem) certain age,  the enemy easily persuaded me into feeling like there was no point or purpose to my faith.  John 10:10 says, “The thief's purpose is to steal and kill and destroy.”  Some days, the enemy’s primary dart to my heart is to make me feel as though I’ve sinfully let opportunities to serve slip by, talents and gifts have been squandered and wasted, my opportunity to use them for His glory has passed.  Then other days, the enemy makes me feel I ought to just settle—as though my life, by example, is good enough witness of His glory.

Lies.  It's simply not so.  I know this to be true: The Lord has purposed each of my days--there is no expiration date on His purpose for me--at least not until He calls me Home.  I mustn't allow these lies to become lost opportunities to gain wisdom and to bring Him glory.

However discouraging this scripture may seem, bear with me for a moment. You see, I've learned that my purpose is mercurial, much like my personality, my purpose changes.  My purpose is not always something I do well, and practically never something with which I'm completely comfortable.  That said, this is the verse that set me to thinking on this path of God's supreme purposing of our lives. 

Sorrow is better than laughter, for by a sad countenance the heart is made better.  Ecclesiastes 7:3

I challenge you to ask yourself, what has been the most sorrow you’ve experienced, the most pain? 

Those dark places that hurt so badly, those thorns that continue to pierce my heart, this is precisely where God has revealed my soul’s true capacity.  This is my purpose.  This is my wisdom.  My sorrow expands and deepens my soul.  

Sorrow forces me to move more slowly and considerately…to examine my motives and attitudes.  It opens within me the awareness of Heavenly life, and "sets me afloat on the limitless sea of service" (Streams in the Desert).

Doesn't that sound divine?  A limitless sea of service...who knew we could be so richly purposed?

Many of us live casually on the outer edge of our souls, until one day a great storm of sorrow reveals the hidden depths within, depths we never knew existed.   God never uses anyone to a great degree until he breaks them completely. That, my friend is His grace.  That is holy wisdom.

If you wondering what is your purpose, look deeply inside, and confront that most hurtful memory-that deepest scar.

It isn’t easy.  We want to appear strong and reliant, trustworthy. But God wants our strengths to be a reflection of Him in us.  Most often we don’t realize what it means for God to be our strength until we’ve reached that depth of sorrow, or “rock bottom” where He is our only option. When you reach the point where you realize that God is your only option, that you cannot count on yourself—that is your moment of purposing.  It is precisely at that moment when your purpose is revealed. That is your own personal anointing of wisdom.

I wonder sometimes why God “purposed” me so…fully; leaving the comfort of my mother too soon, completely understanding the feeling of being the minority, rape, years of brutal violence and abuse, the use of alcohol to numb pain, poverty, the loss of a sister, estrangement of a daughter, 20 years of solitude?  Painful, yes. And each blow left indelible marks, but you know what?  I have the benefit of pain, age, and anointed wisdom--How else to glorify the Father of Light? 

I cannot be overzealous in my acquisition of purpose.  My intentions to please and serve the Father should never override His divine instruction.  Let me share an example which clearly indicates to me that we may sometimes be misguided about our purpose.  You’ve heard that phrase, “It seemed like a good idea at the time…”

Talking to an acquaintance the other day—a sister in Christ. She is a leader in a prominent outreach program/Bible Study, and expressed frustration that some of the younger ladies in her study group, who were in dire situations-abuse, poverty, single motherhood-just weren’t “getting” her salvation message. 

Notice I said “her” salvation message.  She was so focused on her salvation message that she neglected to consider her audience.  Here she was, a well-established grandmother in a cozy home, financially stable, in reasonably good health, food and clothing in abundance, and had never experienced abuse, poverty, rape, or abandonment---how relatable was she?  I thought to myself, “What right have you to become frustrated that your message isn’t heard?  You have no relatable reference point into their hearts.”

I gently reminded her, that until we walked in another’s shoes, we have no idea HOW they needed Jesus.  Yes, we are missioned with salvation—but perhaps compassion for this particular group of individuals was not her purpose, because that is not where her sorrow existed.

This is what I know, at my age.  Even in the most sorrowful moment, I am content.  The comfort of a desperately sorrowful situation is the wisdom gained.  Because of these experiences that make me relatable to others, I remember in the midst of pain, how God has purposed, provided for me, taught me.

 And like Paul says in Philippians 4:11 “Not that I speak in regard to need, for I have learned in whatever state I am to be content.  I know how to be abased, and I know how to abound.  I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” In the end, no matter what my trial, I will have wisdom, and Yahweh will be glorified.

If you're ever, like me, feeling unsure of abilities, gifts, and what exactly you're doing right here, right now, I want to remind you:  You do have purpose, you are needed.  Dig deeply--where has God brought you the most comfort?  Therein lies glory...glory in your sorrow.  Your wisdom, your purpose. 

A poem by Maltibie D. Babcock:

"The dark brown soil is turned

By the sharp pointed plow

And I’ve a lesson learned.

My life is but a field,

Stretched out beneath God’s sky

Some harvest rich to yield

Where grows the golden grain?

Where faith? Where sympathy?

In a furrow cut by pain." 

Broken

“All my favorite people are broken,”  a “last call” lament I now vaguely remember singing many late nights to the small crowd of left-behinds;  emotions properly numbed, defeated and lost, supported only by the bar’s piano. 

How I dreaded those words, “Last Call!” because I was now forced to leave the false camaraderie that drew all of us, the left-behinds, to that broken-down little establishment on open mic night.  Grudgingly, fearfully, I trudged home, and once there, I immediately turned on the radio, stereo, television—anything to block out the sounds of my breathing, my talking, my coming, my going…my lonely island sounds.

There are no words to express the wholehearted, overwhelming gratitude I have for Jesus.  Jesus loves the broken.  He was broken—because of me, and for me. The image of His shattered body brings me to my knees and great heaviness to my heart.  But it’s nearly unbearable to believe His agony of being left behind by the Father.  “Now from the sixth hour there was darkness over all the land unto the ninth hour.  And about the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud voice, saying, ‘Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?’  That is to say, My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” Matthew 27:45-46.

Jesus was left behind.  For me.  The Father’s abandonment is something I’ll never have to experience because Jesus was broken and left behind.  For me.

 “Oh, I’m running to Your arms, I’m running to Your arms, the riches of Your love will always be enough, nothing compares to your embrace, Light of the World, Forever Reign.  Jesus.  Jesus.”*

“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.”  Psalm 34:18.

*Forever Reign, Hillsong United.

The Thornies

 

Who is your “Thorny?” 

Thank you Beth Moore, for this most appropriate term of endearment for someone you’re challenged to love and who absolutely drives you CRAZY!    

Your “Thorny” came with your life package, assigned by God.  You simply cannot get away from your Thorny!  

Whenever I am around my Thorny, I fight the urge to consume, in one sitting, an entire pint of Hagendaz™, flavor- Mayan Chocolate.  Or madly shop an entire afternoon, as though I’d just won the lottery.

I have a tried and tested accountability system in place when my Thorny seems particularly…thorny:

·         The smile on my face covers the gritting of my teeth. 

·         Speaking in a calm, sweet voice filters my extra sharp tongue.

·         Prayer (closed eyes) hide my pupils that are narrowing to pinpoints.

·         In my car? I have an enormous cross embossed with the Serenity Prayer hanging from my rear-view mirror that can be seen by any thorny driver within a mile radius ensuring  that everyone knows I’m not the Thorny driver!

All banter aside, truthfully,

My Thorny is someone I know does not love me, and every time I’m around them, at least once a week, I’m injured.

But, that’s the nature of my Thorny—Thornies hurt.

Now, you may be sitting there contentedly, thinking, “Not me.  Nope. I’m good—I don’t have any Thornies.” 

Well…don't get to cozy with yourself--you may not have Thornies, but you are most assuredly someone else’s Thorny! 

I am probably a lot of people’s Thorny!

I have a lot to say about difficult relationships, or loving all the Thornies -- but Jesus knew Thornies too…and commands us regarding our Thornies, teaching as only He can, in Matthew 22:37-38:

 “Jesus replied: Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.  This is the first and greatest commandment.  And the second is like it:  Love your (Thorny) neighbor as yourself.” 

And  John—the master of simple words and language—very clearly tells us in 1 John 4:20,

“Whoever claims to love God, yet hates a brother or sister, is a liar.”

Ouch.

Okay moment of truth? Those 5 minutes I’m mad and frustrated with my Thorny?  I’m hating my brother or sister.

Those few seconds of anger are recorded moments in time—it’s historical, in other words.  My Father in Heaven sees those moments!  He sees that I’m a liar!

Wouldn’t it would be so easy if we could just say, “Get thee away from me, my Thorny!”

Or, what if I could take my Thorny back to the store because Thorny doesn’t fit, and receive the cash equivalent refund; although, some days I don’t think I’d receive the appropriate return on my investment…just saying!

But I can’t.  God has given me my Thorny as a precious gift!  My Abba Father in Heaven is watching me!  He is aware of my every move.  Why do I think it's a secret when I curse my Thorny?

We are all God’s children, and as such, part of the same family: God’s family.  Difficult relationships and situations are essential ingredients God uses to build character in His children.  And each of us bring unique, important, valued gifts into His family.

He commands us to “bear one another in love.”  “For just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ we, though many, form one body, and each member belongs to all the others.”  Romans 12:4-5. 

So, this is how I love my Thorny, in the midst of all the conflicting and emotions that my Thorny stirs up within me:  I remember this verse and these two things:

1.         Hurt people, hurt people. Bear one another in love.

2.       We are all just walking each other home. “One body, and each member belongs to all the others...” 

“We are all just walking each other home.”

God didn’t promise us perfect soul mates and family members.

And let’s face it, we’ve made far too many life choices without first consulting the Heavenly Father and seeking His divine direction, so some of our Thornies are our own gifts to ourselves…but they ARE gifts, nonetheless.

Some of our Thornies are very devout followers of Christ.  That doesn’t make them any less Thorny to us.  The first church in Acts, oh my goodness, am I the only one who longs for that unity?  Acts 2:44  “All the believers were together and had everything in common.” 

Oh for that unity! I would be thrilled if my devout-follower-of-Christ Thorny loved me enough to help walk me home! I would love for my Thorny and I to be able to cohabitate this incredible walk with Jesus together!!

Well, it could happen…!

We are all just walking each other home... I must always, ALWAYS tread carefully and tenderly. When my Thorny makes me want to eat forbidden ice cream, I thank God my Thorny doesn’t drive me to drink!

When my Thorny affects my job, my finances, my health (not counting few extra pounds from the ice cream)—I must not leave them alone in their walk, I must minister to them.  Serve them.  I must find a way to love on that Thorny!

Your Thorny may be overwhelmed by their own thornies:  illness, divorce, addiction, making their behavior hard to understand—harder still to pray for—pray anyway.  Pray for ways to serve your Thorny!  We are all just walking each other home.

When your Thorny situation seems helpless, it’s not!  God is giving you all kinds of gifts in the form of trial—pray for understanding and clear-headedness, and discernment in ways to serve your Thorny. 

We are all just walking each other home!  That means we are not alone in our Thorny struggle!  And here’s a thought:  At the same time you’re praying for your Thorny, simultaneously, you may rest assured, someone else is praying for you…Thorny girl.

You know, there is no way to gauge another’s Thorny situation.  We don’t get to say one person is struggling more than another.  I don’t get to tell myself, “Hey, my Thorny has it a lot better than me, she’ll just have to get along without me right now.  Time for me to get some ministry!”  That is not how we walk each other home.

We walk each other home, by serving, and loving, and being burdened for our Thornies.  We can’t give up on them.  Jesus doesn’t give up on me—praise God!!!

His love is always there, no matter how Thorny I am—I know, Jesus is walking me home.

You know what?  One day?  My Thorny will recognize my relationship to Jesus.  They may not always grant me their approval—but my behavior in everyday situations will get my Thorny’s attention.  My love for Jesus will show! And my Thorny will experience that love because of how I, empowered by the Holy Spirit, have behaved amidst the thorns!

His Kingdom has lots and lots of beautiful flowers, perfectly formed roses…with THORNS.  While I’m walking my Thorny home, I’m helping to build His Kingdom.  Jesus is with me each step of the walk home.  He never leaves me.  There is no limit to His love for me, even when I am so Thorny and ugly.

His love never fails, never.  He is with me all the way home.

 “Therefore we do not lose heart.  Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day; for our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.”  2 Corinthians 4:16-17

 

Don't Worry....Be Happy

Hmmhmmhmheehhummm…Don’t worry…be happy…ha-ha, you’re singing it too, now, right? 

 

I do this a lot in when I’m burdened, it’s in my DNA. This morning, upon awakening, I flashed back to the late 70s--I’d come home from college for the weekend, and as I walked into the kitchen, I caught my mother in a moment of wild abandon, moving and singing to that Leo Sayer one-hit wonder, “You Make Me Feel Like Dancing.” 

 

I love this memory, and it never fails to make me smile. See, my mother was happy in the midst of the turmoil and calamity that is the life of a missionary on furlough with 4 teenagers--one a particularly wild child that caused much angst. ‘Nuff said! Thank you Lord for Godly parents, whose trust has always been in You. 

 

I can honestly say, the only times I worried, panicked, or misbehaved were the times when I became over-confident in me-the great I am, because I always let me down. 

 

Listen, YOU will always let you down.  So will jobs, doctors, husbands, children...whatever your particular worry, concern, or expectation. When you replace your trust in the One who entrusted us with these temporary gifts of husbands, children, jobs, you will be disappointed Every.Single.Time. Why keep repeating the same insane cycle?

 

I know you’re thinking, “Huh. Okay, Ms. Zippity Doo Dah Everything Is Beautiful. I’ve got these kids, this illness, my Thornies, this job…I need a nerve pill!” 

 

You don’t need a nerve pill, friend; or a drink, or a website, or anything else to calm you down. All you need is to remember your complete trust point of reference: the all-seeing, all-knowing, always concerned Father of Light. 

 

Let go of those unattainable expectations in these earthly blessings, put all your energy into the One who never disappoints, never leaves, and always has your best interest at heart.

 

Don't worry...be happy!

 

Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, whose confidence is in him. He will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green. It has no worries in a year of drought. Jeremiah 17:7-8.

Does this ego make me look fat?

Have you ever had one of those moments where, for a split second, you laugh gleefully at someone’s comeuppance?  Have you ever secretly wished (prayed!)  that someone would get “what’s coming to them?”  You know what I’m talking about—I speak from experience. 

Listen, if you delusively walk about in a Queen of Sheba cloud you WILL trip up the steps, fall in the crowded parking lot, or walk out of the bathroom with toilet paper streaming from your shoe, or a skirt neatly tucked into panty-hose. But that’s in the (my) past…

What if someone hasn’t behaved appropriately, and seems to love the sound of their own voice? Your internal dialog: “Did she just brag about volunteering/cooking/helping?!  Taaacky!!”

Because of my past pride issues, and DNA from my mother, I have an ever-sharp, balloon-bursting needle with radar for inflated ego!  But I know it’s not my mission to keep another’s feet planted firmly on the ground (although, I seldom hold back with Daniel—I "help" him keep his ego in check with squinty-eyed looks, kicks under the table, and head slaps, honestly and transparently, hah). 

I must pray all the time to love the way Jesus loved me—and He surely has a million reasons to laugh at me!  But He doesn’t.  He gently loves me and corrects my pride and doesn’t wish for me to fall.  It’s not easy, because, goodness, some folks are just so pleased with themselves!  But it’s what Jesus commands.  It’s the way He loves me.  “Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth.  It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.” 1 Cor. 13:6-7.

Since my motto is “Nothing but love,” I pray Jesus guides me away from selective loving and those deceptively lofty heights of pride.

Why Doesn't Anyone Say Thank You Anymore?

Why doesn’t anyone say “Thank You” Anymore?

Saying thank you is more than good manners. It is good spirituality. Alfred Painter

Anyone in my realm of loved ones knows of my normally flexible, laid back, happy-go-lucky heart and mindset. Indeed, there are only two things in this world that might incite an unrestrained paroxysm of righteous indignation: (1) mistreatment of one of God’s creatures, and (2) unmerited rudeness.

Lately, it seems, I’ve been overwhelmed with the latter. The point in question: Why doesn’t anyone say “Thank You” anymore? There is nothing complicated about giving someone a smile and heartfelt thanks. I wonder, what is so difficult about making that social connection, establishing familiarity, reassuring both parties of their personal value and blessing?

A couple of occasions come to mind:

We have new neighbors. I baked a batch of oatmeal raisin cookies, and took a platter of the warm cookies to the new neighbors as welcome and introduce ourselves. When he finally opened the door, he took the cookies from my hand, and in the middle of introducing myself, he interrupted and said “Okay!” How awkward, as my social graces fought with the fight or flight syndrome. I didn’t know whether to continue my introduction, or flee to the comfortable, warm, gentle safety of my living room with the locked front door.

My coworker and I used to receive flowers, cards, treats, gifts from parishioners and I always made a point of calling the parishioner, speaking to them, then sending a little note. My coworker would send them a text, if anything at all. Really? A text? What if they are unable to receive texts? Or read them? This practice embarrassed me so much, I finally asked her, “Why don’t you just call them and talk to them, or write them a note? Sending a text seems so impersonal, so cold.” The response was eye-opening. Apparently my coworker received so many gifts and cards she didn’t have time to thank everyone, was uncomfortable speaking directly with parishioners, and besides, she was, yes you guessed it, entitled to gifts.

It’s tempting to say that the inability to say thank you only applies to certain age group, but in my experience, this trend is ubiquitous, extending to those well into their forties. I’m occasionally so ashamed at another’s lack of etiquette and friendliness, that I overcompensate and become even more chatty-happy, annoying and pushing the individual farther into their protective bubble of disdain, fear, and social ineptitude.

So, why is this? Why don’t people say thank you anymore? I realize saying thank you requires a certain amount of humility—are babies birthing without the humility gene? Have entitlement issues trumped common courtesy? Has society coarsened such that we’ve become indifferent and detached? By being so cyber-connected have we completely disconnected socially?

Whatever the rationalization, I’m not going to hear thank you from a lot of folks, most of the time. Knowing this feeds my righteous indignation and moral superiority. I humbly admit to this. But my need to edit and change bad behavior is egocentric; it must not consume me, establish a foothold for the enemy, and steal all my joy! I’ve been studying on this for quite some time, and am trying to live and focus on the following:

Colossians 4:5 says “Be wise in the way you act with people who are not believers, making the most of every opportunity. When you talk, you should always be kind and pleasant so you will b e able to answer everyone in the way you should.”

I realize that “being wise in the way I act with people” includes not being disappointed when folks do not act appropriately or kindly. It is just as wrong for me to be indignant at rudeness, as it is for someone to be rude.

It is not my place to judge my neighbor (family, friend, coworker); only God can do that. I must accept whom God accepts!

At the same time, I mustn’t lower my standards of etiquette by becoming part of the norm. Who knows? Perhaps my neighbors are watching my behavior more carefully than I imagine—I must be the example, not the norm.

“God has chosen you and made you his holy people. He loves you. So always do these things: show mercy to others, be kind, humble gentle, and patient. Get along with each other, and forgive each other. If someone does wrong to you, forgive that person because the Lord forgave you. Do all these things; but most important, love each other. Love is what holds you all together in perfect unity. Let the peace that Christ gives control your thinking, because you were all called together in one body to have peace. Always be thankful. “ Colossians 3:12-15

Thank you, thank you, thank you for letting me share!

Jesus+ (Jesus Plus)

We are studying Colossians in our Sunday School…er…Connection Group class, and last Sunday, our inspired and annointed leader was talking about traditions, practices, or rituals that could mislead us and take our focus from Christ, and (all it takes is one word to start me on that rabbit chase!) I began musing tradition. I hurt my brain searching for something in my personal life that was a tradition, ritual, or habit that hindered my walk with Jesus. I began thinking about traditions, in general, that are deceptive.


In the church Paul addressed at Colossae, slowly and deftly they began to believe in the doctrine of salvation by Jesus+. Jesus plus the right religious feast. Jesus plus the New Moon Festival, Jesus plus Sabbath Day--the right ritual was just as important as the right Savior. Paul would have nothing to do with this. If we are saved, it is because God rescued us, and not because we learned the walk. God does the saving and we do the receiving. All we do is accept, and "take up our cross daily."

For many of us, our "tradition" is an addiction, a past hurt that holds us captive, or sick behavior that convinces us that we have control. We don't realize how insidious these "traditions" are, yet if we were to experience just one day completely free of those traditional behaviors, we'd realize how much closer is our walk with the Savior. And so it goes with unusual rituals and new-age wisdom--if these put your mind in a mess, don't be troubled. Try not to be a victim of "before I knew it, I was caught up in it." Ask yourself, "Why?" and consult the scriptures. Keep your focus on Christ through prayer, reading of His word, and reliable Christian fellowship. If you are not sure that something is from the Spirit, tread softly. Back off. Use the Bible as a guide. If they are of the Lord, those unidentified inner promptings won't contradict anything biblically.

Here is a funny story about family tradition—you’ve probably read it a gazillion times, but worth revisiting.

The Easter Ham

The youngest, and most newly-married daughter was excited to be preparing her first Easter dinner for the combined families. She called her mother, as backup, to be sure she was baking the ham correctly. Her mother informed her to be "sure to cut three inches from the ham before you roast it."

Puzzled, the daughter asked her mother "Why?"

"Because that's the way my mother taught me to do it," says mom. "I'm not sure of the reason."

Still not convinced, the daughter calls her grandmother. "Nana," she asked, "Mama says I must cut three inches off of my ham before I bake it. Why is that?"

"Well, sweetie, I'm not sure, but that's how my mother taught me to do it, and I've always done it that way," replied Nana.

The daughter felt a mystery needed solving, and being young, still questioned authenticity (or authority, perhaps, haha), and called her great grandmother. "Nona," she asked, "Nana says you taught her to cut three inches off of the ham before putting it in the oven. Why is that necessary, I wonder?"

"Well dear," Nona replied, "When I was a new bride, just starting out, I baked my first ham for Easter dinner. The ham was 18 inches long. The largest roasting pan I had was 15 inches long, so I had to cut three inches off of the ham to make it fit in the pan."

And so it goes, from generation to generation, until someone asks "Why?"