Progress Means Improvement, Not Perfection

My response to a child of God who’s seeing progress in her life but still not meeting her own expectations:

Oh, precious one, you think so much like I do! I’m glad you are reminding yourself to look at your
growth; how far you’ve come is always a better point to examine than how far you have to go.

Remember, our goal is to become more like Jesus, but it’s lunacy to think we’ll ever arrive at any approximation of His perfection.

Just stay the course, sweetheart. Keep striving to do each next right thing, and if you’re going to compare your growth in the Lord to your lack thereof, why not recall how far the east is from the west, as Psalm 103 suggests? Verse 12 tells us that’s the distance He put between us and our sins at the cross.

Pretty comforting, isn’t it?

I’m praying for you right now, sweet girl. The catch phrase these days is “You’ve got this!” My take on that is, no, I haven’t “got this”, and truthfully I never will.

But how wonderfully relieving that our Lord “got” all of it at the cross, and He’s giving away forgiveness FOR FREE!

What a Savior.

Thornless

I attended a funeral recently. The casket was cream and gold, and the tone of the service in keeping with those joyous colors. The whole program was chock full of hope and expectation of meeting dear Rosie in the life to come.

I noticed something interesting during the proceedings. The family provided glorious white roses for everyone to lay on our dear friend's casket. I handled mine gingerly, trying to avoid thorns, then suddenly realized there weren't any!

The prickly things had been whittled off my otherwise perfect, intact rose – as if to protect the vulnerable fingers of one already grieving. When I commented on this phenomenon to a neighboring mourner, she lamented, “Well, mine has thorns!”

There I stood, alongside another for whom pain was a distinct possibility, something to be aware of and guarded against. I, on the other hand, felt safe and secure within my thornless situation.

Famous last words...

The rest of my day was thorn-filled! Admittedly, the majority were First World problems, but thorny, nonetheless. Rosie’s life, too, was beset by troubles within and without; one of her children confessed at the close of the memorial service that much of her path had been strewn with sorrow and poor choices. She thanked her faithful sister for standing in the gap while she pursued regrettable aims. She even referred to herself as “the prodigal daughter” while begging forgiveness. Her sister kept whispering, “You’re loved” while literally extending open arms. Rosie herself never spoke anything but love for her wayward child, only ever praying for her safety and well-being.

Thorns removed. Nothing but beauty remains.

Just like Jesus, who took our thorny, life-ending problem of sin and replaced it with His glittering, spotless grace. He even took the crown of thorns on His own head, as if to underscore that the ones who really deserved that agonizing headgear would never have to wear it.

In Luke 4 Jesus quoted from the following passage, stating that He was the fulfillment of those wondrous promises. What a Savior!

The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me,

    because the Lord has anointed me

to bring good news to the poor;

    he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,

to proclaim liberty to the captives,

    and the opening of the prison to those who are bound;

2 

to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor,

    and the day of vengeance of our God;

    to comfort all who mourn;

3 

to grant to those who mourn in Zion—

    to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes,

the oil of gladness instead of mourning,

    the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit;

that they may be called oaks of righteousness,

    the planting of the Lord, that he may be glorified.

4 

They shall build up the ancient ruins;

    they shall raise up the former devastations;

they shall repair the ruined cities,

    the devastations of many generations.

~ Isaiah 61:1-4 ~

Rosie’s favorite song: Testify to Love

        The other two songs played at the service:

The Only Name (Yours Will Be)    I Can Only Imagine

Reach Up!

Many Christmases ago, I posted a piece called Low Branches about how our great God bridges the gap between our feeble efforts and His perfection. As I was praying recently, that concept reemerged into my mind, but in greater detail.

I thought of Moses climbing Mount Sinai to obtain the ten commandments, those two stone tablets which provide God's instructions for holy living. I recollected how this paragon of faith, in a fit of righteous indignation, smashed the words written by God Himself.

But our God is a God of second chances. He gave Moses and the people (not least Moses’s brother, Aaron, whose actions provoked Moses’s rashness in the first place, and who blamed his foolishness on the very people he led into idolatry) a second set of commandments after Moses destroyed the first.

What a patient, forgiving deity. 

This same divine being sent His Son to earth to wash away the sins of believers and grant His children unlimited access to His presence, even though our sin warrants the very opposite.

I'm going through a time of frailty (aren't we always, when we get right down to it? but some seasons of living just feel more fragile than others). As is so often the case, this period of fragility is finding me wakeful, watchful, and wistful. I'm reaching up with extra gusto to seek God’s hands, using the vehicle of prayer that never fails to get me to the right destination. I’m counting extra hard on the Lord’s cleansing nature and open door policy for believers, subjects about which I wrote quite confidently years ago. 

Did I mean it then? Do I believe it now?

Reaching up is the only way I know to find out. Vulnerability can be a companion to desperation or determination. By God's grace, I'm leaning towards the latter.

To quote Tiny Tim, whose words still ring true nearly two centuries after Dickens penned them, “God bless us, every one.”

Sometimes You Can Fight City Hall

That got your attention, didn't it?

I use the phrase metaphorically, but also in total seriousness. About 30 years ago, I went head-to-head with the Philadelphia Parking Authority when they refused to acknowledge my timely payment of a small parking ticket. Copies of bank statements proving my assertion left them yawning. My requests to speak to management were ignored. In desperation, I contacted my big sister, Jo Ann, who is known far and wide (at least to disinterested bureaucrats) as someone you don't want to tangle with (her favorite slogan to get around gatekeepers is "You don't get paid enough to talk to someone as angry as I am!"). 

Jo literally took my problem to City Hall and, voilá, somehow my missing payment was found and the thugs got off my back.

Some time later, I received a parking violation which was totally fraudulent. I had never even been to the location of my supposed infraction; to add insult to injury, I had been tending my ailing father on his deathbed at the time I was allegedly incurring said ticket.

I saw red. 

This time I sought help from local legislators to fight the spurious charges. One correspondence with legal letterhead settled the matter in my favor.

If we examine these two instances, each is somewhat unique. In one case, I deserved the ticket, but had done my part to rectify it; in the other, I truly was guiltless, but needed help to extricate myself. In the first situation, someone who had more time and a more "I mean business" demeanor than I managed to solve the problem; in the latter, I needed professional assistance.

But what do they have in common?

The odds of my winning either one of these battles were astronomically against me. My father used to complain that city parking authorities are often notoriously corrupt, so one would do well to mind one's P's and Q's when one ventures into their territory. In scenario #1, I had fallen afoul of said authorities, and they were making it impossible to establish my debt had been paid. Scenario #2 was even trickier, because a crooked ticket had been issued, and I had no way to prove I hadn't earned it. I had argued and fussed, even provided physical proof of my innocence, yet the consequences still loomed and were, in fact, growing; every day I didn't pay up, surcharges were accruing. In short, my own resources failed to solve the problem.

The deciding factor in both matters was the help I had in resolving them. 

If I wanted to brag, I could mention other matters in which I "beat the bad guys" by involving bodies like the state attorney general's office and other agencies with more clout than I have. But then I would also need to admit that for every tussle I've won, there have been plenty that I lost. What often makes the difference is who is on my team plugging for me. In many cases, the powers that be won't budge until someone in a high position rattles their cages; then and only then will they back down.

Jesus stood in the gap for believers in much the same way the aforementioned advocates did for me. This won't be a perfect analogy, so I hope readers won't pick it apart till it bleeds (but our Savior did bleed - buckets full - and what a gift His sacrifice gave to hurting humanity). One of my seminary professors used to say, "Don't try to make it walk on all fours." In other words, don't expect every analogy to perfectly align the two entities being compared. An illustration is only that - a reasonable facsimile of the object it represents. 

That said, the least analogous part of the advocate comparison I'm making is the culpability of the two parties involved. In the examples I mentioned, I was being wrongfully accused, whereas Christ wasn't (on the cross) and isn't (in His resurrected state) defending a wronged party against a corrupt one. On the contrary, His death reconciled guilty sinners to a sinless God. He advocated for sinners on the cross (past tense), and continues to advocate for us before God's throne (present tense). In that sense, Christ actually flips my analogy by pleading for the guilty party, rather than the guiltless one.

Two Bible verses put this whole topic in a nutshell:

My little children, these things I write to you, so that you may not sin. And if anyone sins, we have an Advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous. - 1 John 2:1

Therefore He is also able to save to the uttermost those who come to God through Him, since He always lives to make intercession for them. - Hebrews 7:25

There may be times when we need the intercession of human defenders, and by the grace of God, lawyers and consumer protection agencies exist for just such occasions. But when it comes to spiritual advocacy, there's no one better than Jesus Christ.

Rejection... Before the Fact... Again

It's happening. Again.

I've been trying to steel myself, but to no avail.

I've never been any good at keeping hopes high and expectations low at the same time.

Remember that feeling when a relationship is new? Too new, even, to call it a relationship? That feeling of wanting something so bad you can taste it, but dreading even to take that first bite, lest it not live up to the expectations you've assigned it?

I'm talking about fresh love. Infatuation, really, because love has to be cultivated, but infatuation only has to be stoked.

I'm finding out that this phenomenon isn't limited to the highs and lows of romance. No, it can rear its leery head in things as mundane as a new job or a long anticipated vacation or the prospect of anything you really want that may not come to pass.

Don't get your hopes up.

Something this good can never last.

Better to aim low than to be disappointed. Again.

I thought I was going to be open enough to tell you, lovely readers, what I'm hoping for that may not happen, but I'm finding out that my courage is in short supply. Again. 

Perhaps it's best to just leave it to the imagination, since we all know the sensation I'm talking about.

 The "what if" syndrome. 

What if this doesn't work out after all?

What if I invest in this (name the prize you're trying to grasp), and it eludes me?

What if I expend a lot of energy and not a few sleepless nights, and nothing comes of it?

What if I get hurt? Again.

I'm not one to listen to a lot of melancholy music these days - the kind that nurtures angst and pining. Oh, I used to do a lot of that. Certain songs can still tug on my heartstrings and bring me right back to my teen years when everything mattered and all possibilities seemed available and out of reach at the same time.

But I did stumble across an old tune that touches a chord right now. I'm not going to supply the lyrics here, because the songwriter and I have totally different world views and probably couldn't even hold a four-minute conversation without disagreeing on the weather forecast for that day. That said, he got it right when he penned words about lost love and the need to let things go and move on.

He's talking about a broken relationship, but I'm talking about life.

The things that don't come our way, despite our best efforts and deepest longings. The things we clawed at, ached over, yearned for. The things we trusted in that came up wanting.

The Bible says King Belshazzar found this out the hard way:

"This is the interpretation of the matter: MENE, God has numbered the days of your kingdom and brought it to an end; TEKEL, you have been weighed in the balances and found wanting; PERES, your kingdom is divided and given to the Medes and Persians." (Daniel 5:26-28)

Verse 30 tells us "that very night" Belshazzar was killed and his empire taken over by another. But before he died, the proud Babylonian ruler honored Daniel, who had just foretold the king's doom, and elevated the prophet to a position of prominence in the kingdom (v.29).

Good for him. Way to not kill the messenger. Way to respect the message even if you're terrified of its contents.

So it goes.

One man rises as another man falls. 

The ashes of one regime fuel the ignition of another.

My takeaway is that life is circular. Always has been, always will be. One day you're up, the next, you're down. But if you wait long enough, many times you'll make it to the top of the ferris wheel again - if only for a few minutes.

Unless, of course, your ticket's punched. As Belshazzar found out.

I don't mean to sound cynical. I'd rather consider these words of wisdom born from experience. Since I'm learning it late in life, it's a bit arrogant to call it my philosophy. Perhaps life lesson is more to the point.

What goes around comes around, but not always in this lifetime.

So, what does matter? 

Well, for me, what matters today is testing negative for COVID after a week of wondering if, like the friends I vacationed with, I will start developing symptoms. Assuming the virus has passed me by this time, what matters today is visiting my aunt who's recovering from heart surgery. Making progress on a writing project that's taking a lot of time and may not pan out the way I hope. Spending time with my beloved sisters. Following my Lord and trusting Him to show me how to do each next right/write thing. And inching a tiny bit closer to the goals He's set before me, regardless of how they turn out.

Rejection may well come my way. Again. If so, my God will be there to pick me up. Again.

I don't need to mourn before the fact. Maybe I don't even need to mourn after the fact - if, indeed, things don't go my way. 

Because His way trumps my way, even when it doesn't seem so this side of heaven.

"A man's heart plans his way, but the Lord directs His steps." - Proverbs 16:9

 

Thanksgiving Ruminations

The Thanksgiving theme continues in my house. Even though in my home the holiday consisted only of my son and me (due to possible COVID exposure in our family), we had a sweet time. The weekend was very low key and pleasant, providing ample time for catching up on life and some much appreciated R&R. I've been doing some reading (I always have four or five books going at a time, and a montage of articles; I'll never be "finished"), some resting, some cleaning, some chatting - just a lovely season of frolic without frenzy.

The Lord has seen fit to grant me another gift, one that will likely take a bit of time to fully "ripen," but that is well worth the wait.

Sunday's church and Bible study themes focused on Colossians 1:12-18 and Hebrews 12:12-17, both of which emphasize the truth of the first point in the Shorter Catechism of the Westminster Confession. The crafters of this timeless document rightly characterized "the chief end of man" as the glorification of God and enjoyment of Him forever. 

Simply put, if we are to give Christ preeminence in all things (Colossians 1:18), pursue peace with all, seek holiness, and spurn bitterness (Hebrews 12:14-15), these endeavors pretty much open the floodgates of gratitude while simultaneously closing the lid on grudges. In the process, we glorify God by keeping our focus on Him, as opposed to giving heed to anyone or anything that seeks to undermine us.

Ah, but there's the rub.

In recent months, I've struggled with anger towards certain individuals and entities which I felt wronged me. Promises were broken and hopes dashed. At one point I was so enraged that I sat down and composed a gripe list which I directed to the Lord, who is, of course, fully capable of righting all these injustices, if only He would choose to do so! I sought the help of fellow believers, asking them to pray for fairness, but also for a changed heart for me. 

The latter is much more important than the former, so the Lord gave me an up close and personal lesson about how to keep a tender heart the other night. I was speaking with a Christian sister, whose circumstances could warrant far deeper resentment than any I might entertain. This particular person has experienced much disappointment on many levels over the years. Let me repeat that. I have watched my friend go through wearisome trials for quite a few years! 

As we caught up with each other's lives, she shared with me the details of the latest challenge she is facing. I might add that she didn't bring the subject up, but merely responded to an inquiry I made about something we had been praying over for her. Not only were her hopes not met, but the manner in which things played out added insult to injury.

I couldn't help myself. In complete puzzlement and awe of the equanimity with which she accepted her situation, I exclaimed, "How do you keep from becoming bitter?"

Her response? 

"You have to try to look at things through the eyes of God."

She went on to affirm her complete faith and utter trust that our great God will always take care of her, because He always has. In short, she will not allow grievances in this broken world to trump thankfulness for the riches she has in Christ.

Let me tell you, this writer was humbled. Humbled by my own lack of forgiveness, but even moreso by the attitude of this saint, who refuses to let life's difficulties and people's cruelty cheat her out of the joy of the Lord. 

So, again, I continue to celebrate Thanksgiving in my corner of the world. My friend reminded me of that crucial exercise the other night. Thanksgiving, despite adversity, unfairness, or unmet expectations. Thanksgiving in joy or sorrow, celestial happiness or crushing despair. 

What a gift I received from my dear friend, which my church leaders then underscored the following morning. Hands down, it's the best Christmas present I'll get this year... or ever.

Beats anything I could ever find under a pine needled tree.

A Lesson Learned

“Hey everyone, I want to apologize for being overbearing yesterday. I was trying too hard to make a perfect memory for Aunt Jane. I forgot that nothing is ever perfect and it would’ve been better if I had just let things unfold naturally. The important thing was you all made the time and effort to be there for her special day. I love you all and am so glad and thankful to be part of this amazing family!”

This was the text I sent out to my loved ones after being a control freak the day before. My two sisters and I had planned a special birthday gathering at a restaurant for our eldest sister, Jane, who usually isn’t in town to celebrate on or around the appointed day. Last weekend, however, she had flown in to witness the graduation of our dear nephew from college, so we hatched this party plan for the following Saturday.

Only trouble was, I forgot to get the Lord’s take on our project.

I overbooked myself the day before, then stayed up later than was good for me. Consequently, I woke up late the morning of the event, which kept me from my usual routine of spending time with the Lord before jumping into the day. The stage was set for emotional disquiet and unmet expectations.

I over-organized everyone’s activities, buzzed around snapping pictures people didn’t want taken, then waxed surly when others didn’t dance to my tune. Hence, the need to apologize later for behavior which, while not outrageous, certainly did not constitute my finest hour. I let the god of hostessing make me forget that the sweetest thing I could do to honor my sister’s birth would simply be relax and keep faith at the center of the festivities. Like Martha, I lost sight of the fact that Christ’s presence makes every occasion just right, with or without the trappings.

Fortunately, I have a loving family, and all was forgiven.

^“But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you.” 
~ Matthew 6:33

For more like this, check out: Reflections by Thea: The Eating of the Crow

Reflections by Thea: The Shame Game

Reflections by Thea: Household Gods

Corrie ten Boom and Spaghetti Pie ...

... have nothing in common, I suspect you're thinking.

Oh, but you're wrong.

A friend and I are having a friendly difference of opinion. We spoke recently about the relevance and applicability of the Scriptures to everyday life. My friend has been finding it difficult to apply what she hears in church on Sunday mornings to what goes on with her the rest of the week. I hold the position that God and His word are the height of practicality, and suggested she consider checking out other places of worship is hers isn't giving her tools to apply to her day to day life.

Jesus walked the earth for 30 plus years, experiencing all that humans go through. We know He came as a baby, so He probably got slapped into His first breath (I doubt the ancient world realized that flicking the feet will arouse infant lungs without such a rude awakening). He learned the carpentry trade from His stepfather, Joseph, so He undoubtedly encountered more than a few splinters. If I were a betting woman, I'd lay odds He bumped up against diaper rash, constipation, and everything in between.

You can't get much more practical than that.

I've shared ad nauseam about how God has met me in my ditches and dark nights of the soul. He's been husband and dad to my family when we had a shortage of both. He's gone into meetings with me that I never thought I'd emerge from alive, and shored me up to fight another day. He's provided prayer partners to walk me through barren places and brushes with danger that I'd rather forget. 

When my father was taken ill once in the middle of the night, my mother thought it was the end. After we left him in the hospital, she cried out to me, "Where do I go to accept this?" We quickly realized the same truth that the apostle Peter arrived at two millennia ago:

"Simon Peter answered him, 'Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and to know that you are the Holy One of God.'”

John 6:68

Peter was affirming that no one else could give him what Jesus could, so why would he ever seek help elsewhere? 

If I'm going to commit to assembling weekly and bi-weekly with believers, which cuts drastically into my beloved spare time, I most certainly expect to glean takeaways when I depart the building. As Dickens put it in A Christmas Carol, "I don't mind going, but I must be fed."

Which brings me to the most compelling reason I see the Lord as the pinnacle of practicality.I recently experienced a tragedy involving my gastrointestinal tract (anything involving my gullet gets my immediate attention). A nearly unforgivable event sent me into a short-lived but vivid tailspin when my leftovers from a weekend getaway were inadvertently left in my sister's refrigerator an hour from home. My sister - a vegetarian - could not be counted on to consume half a tuna hoagie and a delectable piece of chicken spaghetti pie that must have been created with me in mind. The idea of these treasures going to waste or being scarfed down by my niece - who's a delightful carnivore, but still, these were MINE - was well nigh unbearable.

A nasty thought crossed my mind. My other sister, who had been charged with bringing home these dainties, had been the victim of a similar mishap the week before. Two soups had been brought home in doggy bags. I offered mine to my 19-year-old son, but failed to mention that the other was earmarked for his aunt. Alas, he ate the wrong one, and poor Jane was out of luck. 

"Paybacks!"I stewed bitterly, ascribing all kinds of vengeful motives to my honest, guileless sister.

I was full of something, but it sure wasn't spaghetti pie.

Corrie ten Boom came to the rescue. I recalled her encountering one of the Nazi guards who had been particularly brutal to her family. To make matters worse, he had just attended Corrie's lecture on God's forgiveness, and was thanking her for proving he was absolved of all his sins.

Corrie froze when he reached out to shake her hand. She had no tools within herself to receive a gesture of friendship from this avowed enemy. She found herself in the untenable position of being between a rock and a hard place. She couldn't forgive this man, but she couldn't NOT forgive him if everything she had just said about God was true.

She did the only thing possible: she prayed for God to help her forgive her wretched captor. In short order, He enabled her to extend her hand and the grace to overcome the loathing she felt for this man and his wicked deeds.


In the moments after my spaghetti pie debacle, I realized that if Corrie could forgive the Nazis for contributing to the deaths of her closest family members, perhaps I had it within me to forgive my beloved sister for depriving my hips of a few extra pounds. It sounds dramatic, but I know I died a little bit to self that night, and grew a tiny bit in Christ.

Lest my reader should think I'm trivializing a momentous event in the life of one of the world's true heroines, let me assure you I'm simply striving to reinforce the concept of God's day to day applicability. In no way can a few missing calories stack up against years of abuse, but the principle is the same. Rage and even misplaced anger can be dealt with by Scriptural principles. That's all I'm trying to say.

I have yet to come across a situation that is not made better by applying Biblical truth, or worse by failing to do so.

The Eating of the Crow

I recently found myself in the unenviable position of having to chow down on crow.

No one likes eating crow, but it’s particularly unpalatable when one has had previous encounters with that tough old bird that didn’t end well. This was my problem. My mind kept returning to past confrontations that I didn’t see coming and handled poorly, and how upset they left me for days. Often, I had to do damage control after the fact, trying to clean up what I could discern as being my fault, while still holding others accountable for theirs. It’s a delicate art that I’m uncomfortable with, and quite frankly try to avoid.

But I had exploded about a triviality, which was actually masking a bigger issue, and both called for reparative conversation. Still, I couldn’t help imagining dire scenarios in which family relations would be irreparably severed, and silence would take the place of communication that was hard won and fragile.

I didn’t relish digging into this dish.

Even so, the deed had to be done, for, as is often the case in such matters, others’ fates depended on the restoration of harmony.

First, I solicited prayer. I have a number of faithful prayer partners in my life, who can be counted on when I hit the rapids. This being one of those times, I pleaded with those fellow journeyers to join me on the raft, and bring lifelines.

Next, I prepared what I wanted to say. This is a basic planning tool, but one that helps me feel more in control of an out of control situation. The simple act of putting pen to paper (yup, I do it the old-fashioned way) somehow calms me and allows me to corral the fearful thoughts that scatter my peace.

Yet, even after seeking the Lord’s wisdom and organizing my mind, I felt immobilized. How would the other parties react? I felt helpless, knowing I had to make some kind of move, but afraid to proceed.

Admitting defeat, I hung my head. The only way through this mess was, well, through, and through was exactly where I didn’t want to go.

Here is where it’s helpful to have Scripture memorized, as sometimes it jumps into your mind just when you need it. In this case, verse 11 of Psalm 77 came to my rescue. I know nothing of Asaph, except that he must have felt cornered at some point, too, and took the time to write about it: “I will remember the deeds of the Lord; yes, I will remember Your miracles of long ago.”

Boom!

I work as a paraeducator, which is a fancy name for a teacher’s aide, and one of the skills we teach our students is how to summarize a reading in 20 words or less. Asaph must have taken our course, because he boiled down the whole theme of his poem in those 17 words. The opening of the piece explains his distress leading up to that resolute statement of faith, and the subsequent verses give illustrations proving the point.

I now knew what I had to do. I sat down again and got busy writing. This time I wasn’t mapping out a strategy or making crib sheets. Instead, I filled two pieces of paper with example upon example of God’s faithfulness to me during past battles. Meetings where school administrators bullied me, ticking off grievances against my kids, and I struggled vainly to explain that I was doing my best as a single parent, but God made it a job sharing position for a reason, and I was literally down one man. Unpleasant encounters with bosses and coworkers. Difficult neighbors. We all have such experiences, try though we might to avoid them. Trouble finds even non-confrontational people like myself, but when met with faith and fortitude, can produce greater amounts of both.

I also included nail-biting experiences that weren’t self-defense opportunities, but, rather, growing up challenges. Times when I had to speak in front of a group or meet with people of authority who held sway over my future. That is, at the time it felt like they controlled my future. Looking back, I realize almighty hands held and still do hold all the cards, and no tailored-suited individuals or gaffes on my part can change that celestial mind.

Tucking the list into my pocket, I pulled up a number on my phone.

“Can we sit down and talk?” came out of my mouth.

And so began the eating of the crow.

I Am Peter Part 2

Taking one's own medicine is not for the fainthearted. It's Christmastime, season of all seasons to forgive and extend mercy, and yours truly has to admit again to having feet of clay. Let me tell you, slogging around in righteous indignation makes for some pretty clumsy steps.

Awhile back I angrily blogged about the lack of forgiveness someone in my world was showing to a repentant sinner who had wronged my children and me. How dare this person, I railed, hold a grudge on my behalf? Yet, here I stand in this season of peace on earth and good will toward men, finding myself in the same mindset for which I castigated others.

Matthew 7, anyone?

This time last year, my Lord offered me the privilege of extending grace to people who had hurt folks I love. They had also snubbed me, but in minor ways that affected my life only peripherally. In all honesty, I've been hurt far worse by much more skilled offenders; yet somehow my rage on this occasion was rancorous. True to form, over the holidays these individuals showed a callousness toward my family, and one member in particular, on whose behalf I seethed. What made their behavior so unconscionable (in my judgment-dispensing eyes) was that these wrongs were perpetrated by fellow believers!

When they entered the room, I quietly fumed to my conversation partners, whose puzzled looks and conciliatory comments contrasted starkly with my wrathful ones. I'm just telling it like it was; no point sugar-coating the ugly truth. I continued to vent in hushed tones to the select few who had the un-looked-for honor of being within hearing range.

Realizing, thanks be to God, that public accusations would only hurt the ones whose case I'd be pleading, I limited my diatribe to the aforementioned bewildered ears. Presently, the culprits greeted me (warmly), and I followed the course I had decided on the moment they set foot in the door: absolute coldness.

I hadn't seen them in years. There should have been much to talk about, but I eschewed polite conversation and instead spoke minimally and superficially. I feigned no interest in their (to my mind) self-absorbed lives. I suspect - no, I'm sure - they noticed, and probably felt hurt. Part of me cares, yet part of me rejoices that I accomplished what I set out to do: wound them the way they wounded the people who matter to me.

Fast forward to today. I'm in much the same mood. Critical, grumpy, un-pleasable (that may not be a word, but I'm breaking lots of rules today). As I sat (make that stewed) in Sunday school this morning, I made a mental checklist of all the sheep who weren't going along with the shepherd's agenda. They were interrupting his train of thought with questions, of all things! Such a recalcitrant flock, I grumbled to myself. A few in particular didn't meet with my approval; I passed judgment, then moved onto the next black sheep to be disapproved of.

In a few hours, I'll be hosting a belated birthday celebration for a dear friend who has miraculously managed to escape the ire I feel for all things breathing today. Between now and dinnertime, the Holy Spirit sure has a lot of work to do.

For more like this, check out: Morsels for Meditation...: I Am Peter

Uncommon Courtesy, AKA, Do No Harm

Isn't that what the Hippocratic Oath says? When one can do no appreciable good, mustn't one settle for doing no harm?

I seem to be at just such a crossroads. Once again I find myself at odds with a pair of individuals who cannot or will not be reasoned with. Simultaneously, my church has just finished a series on Romans 12, in which the apostle Paul stresses the need to:

"Hate what is evil; cling to what is good... Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer... Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse... Do not repay anyone evil for evil. Be careful to do what is right in the eyes of everyone. If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone. Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: 'It is mine to avenge; I will repay,' says the Lord. 'On the contrary: If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink. In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head.' Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good."(vv. 9-21 excerpts)

While trying to apply this passage to my circumstances, I must confess to feeling frustrated and fed up at this point. It has been going on for quite some time, and no efforts of mine seem to make any difference. If anything, my kindness and cooperation have been met with stony silence alternating with outright rudeness. I can only assume from past experience that further attempts to reconcile will simply make matters worse.

I give up. 

  

I'm out of ideas - and energy - to try to mend this spite fence. The only course left, it would appear, is to let them live their lives as they will, do nothing to exacerbate the problem, and most especially keep them in my prayers. While I am directed by Scripture to try my best to forgive, it's clear I can't win them over. Only God can do that. 

Courtesy, it seems in this instance, is becoming less common all the time.  

Someone else once knew what it felt like to have generosity go unappreciated and blame cast where there was none. God forbid that self-righteousness be implied by this comparison. On the contrary, He's showing me just how fallible and imperfect I am, especially when it comes to suffering. How amazing that He deems me worth the effort. As my friend and prayer partner mused this morning, I'd rather be a toilet seat in the House of God than crown molding in the house of the enemy!

"Better is one day in your courts than a thousand elsewhere; I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God than dwell in the tents of the wicked." Psalm 84:10

Annoying Body Parts

Yup, you read that right. A silly title, I'll admit, but it gets the point across.

What I'm pondering here is those body parts that, for one reason or another, trouble us. I, for example, have robust thighs (that's a nice way of saying they shake like jello when not confined by a pair of jeans). Also, my eyebrows are too thin, non-existent almost, from years of over-plucking; trying to get them to grow in at this point would require patience and probably Rogaine. These are but a few of the less-than-perfect aspects of my earthly temple (I'm not telling you the rest).

In addition, there is the problem of, well, problem parts. These are the ones that simply don't work as expected. Deviated septum, obstructed bowels, undescended testicles (I hear tell) - these types of conditions upset the body's proper functioning, causing pain and discomfort, not to mention embarrassment!

At times we have to take matters in hand, even seek expert help, when the behavior of one part begins to adversely affect the rest of the body. A broken or injured right foot, for example, could cause us to rely more heavily on the left to compensate. Before long, we notice a new pain as a result of overtaxing the uninjured limb. Wisdom and guidance from skilled practitioners are necessary to protect us from such consequences.

The Body of Christ has annoying parts too. We've all seen them: they may present as grumblers (like gassy stomachs), whiners (like overactive tear glands), manipulators (like itchy fingers). Some are unkempt and even offend the senses. Others fail to behave as propriety dictates due to ignorance or disability. Sometimes we choose to avoid them because they don't fit the mold we envision for our church body.

While a valid argument could be made that not everyone who sits in the pew is an actual believer (which would provide a convenient loophole to justify ignoring distasteful churchgoers), I'm not sure yours truly is qualified to make that judgment. Unless a person is spouting outright heresy or behaving criminally, it's a tall order to try to read the fine print inside another person's heart (believe me, I've tried). That said, it is important not to let needier parts of the body take unfair advantage of the brethren. I don't think we're called upon to wear a "Kick Me" sign or subject ourselves to exploitation. There's a fine line, it seems to me, between befriending and allowing oneself to be used.

I once read an article by a woman who had decided to view her unsightly thighs (now you know why this piece spoke to me) in the same way she would view maiden aunts who were a bit unfashionable. She said henceforth she would treat them with affection and care, and even show them off in public, rather than continue hiding them away out of embarrassment. This concept blends well with Paul's description of how we are to behave towards less attractive members of the church body:

"Those parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, and the parts that we think are less honorable we treat with special honor. 
And the parts that are unpresentable are treated with special modesty, 
while our presentable parts need no special treatment. 
But God has put the body together, 
giving greater honor to the parts that lacked it."
1 Corinthians 12:22-24

One last thought: if I ever make the time, I hope to write a book or short story about a diverse group of Christians caught in a life and death situation (TBD). The background of the piece would emphasize the differences in personalities and opinions that create ripples in their corporate relationship. Ultimately they would realize that only through interdependence on each other's respective gifts and abilities could they hope to escape their dire situation. This idea has arisen from years of observing and interacting with believers whose temperaments frankly irritated me. I'm ashamed to admit that I've struggled with being somewhat intolerant of my brothers and sisters whose makeup tends towards coolness or lack of emotion (being wired with intense feelings myself). I labeled their temperaments underwhelmed at best and uncaring at worst. It took me years to realize that these believers are made in the image of God just as I am, but their particular style of ministry reflects His analytical and discernment skills, while mine more closely resembles His emotive side. Both sets of qualities are essential for a healthy church. For example, those who find it awkward to visit the sick may be better suited to objectively sort out a sticky situation of church discipline. Bottom line: neither can thrive without the other.