ICEBERG DEAD AHEAD! (my own personal Christmas special)

It’s the Sunday before Christmas here in the nation’s capital and we are blanketed with the results of a rare and beautiful foot-plus snowfall. It was, well, magical. I have to convey how much I was looking forward to this blizzard. My windows and enclosed balcony look out on none other than 395 (which, for those not from this area, is the 8 lane freeway that starts in DC and travels south). There are several drawbacks to this. First, the exhaust from the cars is so heavy and constant I cannot open my windows without layering my curtains and my lungs with an oily, black soot. The other, and most tedious, it is never, ever quiet. Never. The parade of cars, trucks, emergency vehicles (and their sirens) and, my favorite, motorcycles, is relentless. Ahh, but when the snow falls in foot high layers, traffic momentarily stops. And for almost 24 hours all that broke the silence was the chainy clank and scrape of the snowplows.

Oh I had big plans for this surreal span of time. First and foremost, quality time with God. Blogging, journaling, praying; then listening to a recording of The Messiah whilst wrapping presents and cleaning the fish tank -- all the while talking and spending time with my best friend! I was giddy at the prospect.

And then came the phone call relaying some very upsetting news. A co-worker had succumbed to swine flu and passed away early that morning; this news made even more distressing by the fact that most of us had found out only the day before that she was sick. This sudden intrusion of the ugly pain of life was all it took to blow my ship Titanic off its course, straight into a colossal iceberg. Instead of turning to God for comfort and understanding, I turned to the addiction serving as the equivalent of hiding in a cave; I turned on the tv. For the next 16 hours (6 am this morning to be exact), I sat and stared mindlessly, chewing on one show after another. So immersed was I in the escape that this gaze did not break even for food or water until late Saturday night. As you can imagine, this morning (after 4 hours of restless sleep) brought with it depression, wistful regret and Oscar worthy self-flagellation; repeating over and over, “I wasted the gift!” and “What is wrong with me?” The collision had pitched me overboard and I was going under.

A gentle but steady prompt from God encouraged my drowning self to go online for internet church. (God bless McLean Bible Church for offering this lifeline!) As strains of beautifully played Christmas music wafted through the speakers, I felt my weary, sin-ravaged heart grab hold. Jesus serenading my listening ears with his declaration of love and promise to save me from myself.

God rest ye merry gentlemen, let nothing you dismay.
Remember Christ our Savior was born on Christmas Day
To save us all from Satan's power, when we were gone astray
O tidings of comfort and joy, Comfort and joy
O tidings of comfort and joy!!!

Hymns full of joy and hope, peace and mercy. God’s plan of redemption, restoration and healing piercing the veil of defeat and human imperfection. The news of Jesus’ wonderful birth recounted to my starving soul. Glory to God who sent His perfect son to pluck us from the freezing cold waters of self-judgment and despair and set us on the deck of his heaven-bound vessel. Dear hearts God has removed failure and hopelessness from our repertoire!

Merry Christmas to all and prayers of love and thanksgiving as we voyage on in victory!

Joy to the world, the Lord is come!
Let earth receive her King;
Let every heart prepare Him room,
And heaven and nature sing,
And heaven and nature sing,
And heaven, and heaven, and nature sing.

Joy to the world, the Savior reigns!
Let men their songs employ;
While fields and floods, rocks, hills and plains
Repeat the sounding joy,
Repeat the sounding joy,
Repeat, repeat, the sounding joy.

No more let sins and sorrows grow,
Nor thorns infest the ground;
He comes to make His blessings flow
Far as the curse is found,
Far as the curse is found,
Far as, far as, the curse is found.

He rules the world with truth and grace,
And makes the nations prove
The glories of His righteousness,
And wonders of His love,
And wonders of His love,
And wonders, wonders, of His love.

The trouble with Uzzah

For a long time now I have had difficulty reading the story of Uzzah. In practice, I have actually started skipping over this text. I figured I could ignore it and stick with the parts of the bible I like. The thing is, God didn't give me his word to make me comfortable, He gave it to me for instruction, and so has seen fit to lead me right back to the passage. I believe for two reasons. One, to understand what it has to teach me about God's character, and two, to get to the root of my distaste. For those of you not familiar with Uzzah, let's travel back to the 2nd book of Samuel, chapter 6, starting with verse 3.

(3) They set the ark of God on a new cart and brought it from the house of Abinadab, which was on the hill. Uzzah and Ahio, sons of Abinadab, were guiding the new cart (4) with the ark of God on it, and Ahio was walking in front of it. (5) David and the whole house of Israel were celebrating with all their might before the LORD, with songs and with harps, lyres, tambourines, sistrums and cymbals. (6) When they came to the threshing floor of Nacon, Uzzah reached out and took hold of the ark of God, because the oxen stumbled. (7) The LORD's anger burned against Uzzah because of his irreverent act; therefore God struck him down and he died there beside the ark of God.

Shazzam! How's that for the final word! Ok, time to dig. Let the burrowing begin!

In an effort to be totally honest, I admit my reaction upon reading the tale of Uzzah is to see a perfect example of a God who can be enormously displeased with me and, at the slightest provocation, choose to wipe me from the map. This, then, leads my mind to conclude that God is capricious, prone to violent mood swings and his favor cannot be trusted. I mean, really! All poor Uzzah was trying to do was save the ark from slipping off the cart into the mud. This begs the question, where is the fault in that? It says Uzzah was irreverent. Irreverent? At this my human mind balks. It seems (at first glance, anyway) that Uzzah was being quite the contrary. That, in honoring God, he could not bear the thought of the ark being tarnished with mud. So here I'm stuck. How do I reconcile this mental picture of an impatient and impulsive God with other passages in the word that clearly share He is slow to anger, abounding in love. Time and time again I read of the grace He extends to his children even when we are clearly wrong.

So what happened here?

Well, that’s a good question. In an effort to answer it I went back to Numbers to acquaint myself fully with how the ark was made, the specifications, who would care for it, etc. I won’t take the space here to cover all I read but the fact that grabbed me was Uzzah’s heritage. There is some disagreement, however, I believe with the majority, that Uzzah was a Kohathite, a separate branch of Levites (the priests) entrusted solely with the special care of the most holy things. In that context, Uzzah would have been schooled in the proper care of the most holy things from birth. It would be his life's pursuit, and so would have been instructed ad nauseum on every last detail of God’s commandments concerning the ark and its handling. In addition to which God very clearly states that “they shall not touch any holy thing, lest they die.” So here we are. The reasonable conclusion. Uzzah grabbed the ark directly and he died. So why do I get bent out of shape when the precise consequences God has warned will happen, happen?

I let this truth sink in. That first and foremost, God knew Uzzah’s heart from the moment he stepped out of the womb. If God says he was irreverent than he was irreverent. Second, one of the very things I truly need from God is his immutability. I need for the words from his mouth to be unchanging. Not subject to back door promises or bribes. No different set of rules for his favorites. In this world of transience and shifting sands, praise God that he is the immovable rock.

And now for the thoughts that surprised me.

What if in grabbing the ark, Uzzah interfered with God’s opportunity to perform a supernatural act. Now that’s worth pondering. I mean would an all powerful God not have been able to keep his own ark from falling into the mud? Did he really need man to intervene? Of course not! God could have caused the ark to float. Or it could have gone into the mud and then come out without a spot of dirt on it. Or those around might have witnessed angels from heaven holding the ark in mid air. Any number of things could have happened. But one thing would have for sure – God’s supernatural involvement. Well, this leads down a whole new rabbit trail. It got me thinking, what if? What if Moses had thought “Great Scott, the Red Sea! There’s no way around it! We have to get to a boat!" And so upon procuring a boat, the Israelites crossed the sea and went about their business. Weeeeeeeel, that's noteworthy. And what if David had decided to arm himself with an enormous sword instead of tiny little stones and a slingshot. And feeding the five thousand? What if the disciples had called a caterer? Okay, far fetched, but you see where I’m going with this. Every time I think I am helping God accomplish what only God can do I take the “super” right out of the equation. And you know as well as I do - there is nothing eye-catching about ordinary. For it is in the “super”natural that God resides. Every great leap of faith; every time the risky road less traveled was taken; yes, at the end of human ability there is God.

Verses for the Day: Psalm 77:1-14 (NIV)

1 I cried out to God for help; I cried out to God to hear me.
2 When I was in distress, I sought the Lord; at night I stretched out untiring hands
and my soul refused to be comforted.
3 I remembered you, O God, and I groaned; I mused, and my spirit grew faint.
4 You kept my eyes from closing; I was too troubled to speak.
5 I thought about the former days, the years of long ago;
6 I remembered my songs in the night. My heart mused and my spirit inquired:
7 "Will the Lord reject forever? Will he never show his favor again?
8 Has his unfailing love vanished forever? Has his promise failed for all time?
9 Has God forgotten to be merciful? Has he in anger withheld his compassion?"
10 Then I thought, "To this I will appeal: the years of the right hand of the Most High."
11 I will remember the deeds of the LORD; yes, I will remember your miracles of long ago.
12 I will meditate on all your works and consider all your mighty deeds.
13 Your ways, O God, are holy. What god is so great as our God?

14 You are the God who performs miracles; you display your power among the peoples. [Can I get an Amen!]

I feel your pain.

Today's post is not for the fainthearted. It is not polished. It is not tidy. What follows is raw.

It is Saturday. An altogether beautiful Saturday. The first real Saturday of Spring in Washington, DC. It's warm but not too hot. It's mid-afternoon but not too late in the day. It's the kind of day you burst out of your house to do, well - anything, anything at all, because you can't stand being caged in, not for one more minute. It signals the end of the winter (even mild as it was) and for once, in what seems like an eternity, it's not raining.

So what am I doing? What plans do I have to suck the nectar out of this perfectly ripened flower? None. None whatsoever. I cannot, in the immortal words of Jean-Luc Picard, "Engage." I am stuck in my living room, or more accurately, my overstuffed chair. A typical day beginning as most of my days do. Yes, this post finds Verbal Girl "Unplugged." No painkillers - yet. Not rehydrated from a parched night - yet. No food, no shower, no laundry started or mail sorted through or bills paid or filthy carpet vacuumed. Uncomfortable, disagreeable, irritable and overwhelmed at the thought of performing even the simplest of tasks, which task is at this moment -- standing up. Totally preoccupied with my extensive to do list, I invariably start at the beginning, which is the aforementioned - standing up! I hiss a hurried, resentful prayer for the strength I need to accomplish it and as I begin to stand I lose my balance and fall with a thud. On the way down glass-fronted cabinets, coffee table corners and pointy objects swim before my eyes; wondering how much more pain I would be in at the fall's conclusion and would broken bones be included. All ends fine. My slow-motion pitch came to an end with no apparent long-term consequences save the shattering of my resolve. Tears of self pity stream down my face, mental fists flail at God, internally screaming "DAMMIT - WHY WON'T YOU HELP ME?"

And then it comes. For the briefest of moments I suddenly become plugged in to the tear-soaked fabric of all human suffering. Experiencing white hot mental flashes of someone losing a friend to a drug overdose; someone losing their mother too soon from cancer; parents whose baby's premature birth results in the loss of that child; a "terminal" diagnosis; a husband/father/son lost to war or more randomly, to a drunk driver. And a whole different pain: that born from fear and anxiety. I lost my job! How will I feed my family? How will I pay the mortgage? How will we stay afloat? The flood continues. I am overcome by those whose lives are debilitated by the black hole of depression or mental illness, trembling at the thought of making it through another day, paralyzing panic attacks or thoughts of suicide.

Where can we go when the bubble of pain swallows us whole, its wall seemingly impenetrable? What stops hopeless from cleaning us out? Seriously! Is there anything powerful enough - and tangible enough - to get you through the unbearable moments in life? Where do you go when there is no where left to go? Some choose the numb oblivion of escape. My checkered past betrays that choice more times than I care to admit; when even the promise of short-term relief as your wounded heart blares: "Make it stop! Whatever the cost, please make it stop!" pushes you to do (or even contemplate) things you can't admit to yourself, much less a counselor or friend. And the mere whisper of taking it to the feet of the cross sends you shuddering. How can God help me? How can I face Him? What can He possibly do to alleviate this pain?

If it is at this crossroads you find yourself, all I can say is turn to the wounded healer. The more I study the pain of the flesh-covered God, the more I find incredible comfort. Why do I think He can't help me, or scarier still, understand? As I walk through the night before His most awful day, I see Jesus -- Emmanuel -- crying tears of blood in the garden begging His heavenly father for another way back. I see the Son of God/Son of Man who cried without reservation with dear friends who had lost their brother, Lazarus. Not once, but twice, in the relating of this story the scripture says Jesus was "deeply moved." Examining the 11th chapter of John, the focal point appears to be that Jesus came to raise Lazarus from the dead. In fact, it is clear that He purposely waited to come until he knew Lazarus was dead. On the surface that sounds oddly cold. Simply speaking, Jesus had a job to do, a miracle to perform for the amazement of all. But this passage takes time to share with us that Jesus wept. Which begs the question - why? Why on earth should Jesus shed one tear over the passing of this dead-soon-to-be-raised to-life-guy? In countable seconds, Lazarus would rise and walk out of the tomb, brush himself off and say, "dude I'm starving, let's eat" to all gathered. So why? Because his friends were heartbroken and Jesus would never, ever consider minimizing or invalidating someone's pain. To my limited knowledge, there is never a place in Scripture where God tells us to "Suck it up already!" But words of comfort and promises of his presence are plenty.

Allow me to change course for a moment and tell you what prompted this zig-zagged rambling. Philippians 4. Specifically beginning with verse 4: Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! I must confess that many times this very verse has annoyed me. When I am hurting and the imperative comes that I should rejoice in the Lord, I am want to grumble and shrug it off. And then I stop and consider who uttered this phrase. It did not come from a university professor, living in a comfy home, lecturing from a polished podium. It came from a guy who endured things we can't imagine - or maybe we can. Repeatedly beaten, shipwrecked, snake-bitten, mocked, starved, and, on occasion cast into dungeons doubling as raw sewage highways. It is then my heart sees a man - a mortal man, made from the same stuff as me. One who probably chanted this call to rejoice over and over again as his bloodless fingers gripped iron bars. It is there in those desperate moments he learned of a friend who was always at his side. He found a Savior who always heard his prayers, understood and had considerable compassion for his pain. Finally, he rested in the God who through it all was able to provide an unexplainable peace.

As a final word, I would challenge you dear ones, not to hide your pain. I will share a passage or two from Brennan Manning's book, Abba's Child: "If we conceal our wounds out of fear and shame, our inner darkness can neither be illuminated nor become a light for others." (And a page or so later after citing a passage from Henri Nouwen) "The Wounded Healer implies that grace and healing are communicated through the vulnerability of men and women who have been fractured and heartbroken by life. In Love's service, only wounded soldiers can serve."

Verses of Encouragement: Isaiah 43:1(b)-2, 4(a), 5(a) (NIV)

Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name;
you are mine.
When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames

will not set you ablaze.
. . . .
Since you are precious and honored in my sight, and because I love you[.]
. . . .
Do not be afraid, for I am with you[!!!] (emphasis mine!)

He took the long way home.

Never made it to work today. Barely made it off the couch. The Lyme disease hit some high notes and the worst part was realizing I ran out of meds yesterday. Not a smart plan when the difference between being physically able to leave the house and remaining immobilized is a small handful of pharmaceuticals. Sort of a Catch 22 - I need to get to the drug store, but I can't get to the drug store, but I must get to the drug store . . . well, you get the picture. And so verily I limped by on a few Advil -- strong enough to allow for a series of semi-comfortable positions, not strong enough to allow for comfortable movement. I have found that as the day stretches on to put distance between me and my morning Lyme treatment, and is combined with a gallon or two of water, things improve a small bit. So off I set a half hour before the pharmacy closed to pick up the much needed medications.

I sat in the car at the Giant parking lot preparing to go in, praying very specifically which I am careful to do. I asked God to please get me to the pharmacy counter, allow me to pick everything up and get me back to the car; all without having anything embarrassing happen (which frequently does). Prescriptions in hand I made my feeble way back to the car, calling for grace to make every step possible, grateful the trip was no farther. What blazed its way into my imagination was that long ago walk down the Via Dolorosa by a brutally beaten, flawlessly perfect, carpenter.

I grew mesmeried trying to understand and relate to the pain Jesus experienced the day he fulfilled his Father's plan of salvation for us. I stumbled along in tears at this point reflecting on his broken and bleeding body; the exhaustion that had to surge through every solitary cell; his hunger; his shame; being mercilessly mocked by those he came to set free and stripped of all we think displays humanity. I can't explore the depths of those sufferings. None of us adequately can. Not on this side of the grave, anyway. And I'm not inclined to think that even in death we will get to the extent of it. In light of all this, how can one not ask the $64,000,000 question.

WHY?

Love.

Mind-bending, gut-wrenching, heart-changing, universe altering - LOVE. Love that conquers pain. It conquers failure and sin and yes, death. It goes to hell and back. Love that makes the kind of sacrifice only God could bear and does it in the body of a human with all the frailties and limitations that entails. I know in the past I have thought - but he was God - surely that was how he could do it. And indeed that is the truth. No mortal creature, man or woman could or would endure it. Except one. One that felt no less physical pain than we would have felt. One that knew a degree of emotional hemorrhaging we can't imagine. And One that experienced spiritual loss we can scarcely scratch the surface of. Let those truths absorb for a moment. He carried out the plan of the immortal God in a mortal container. He was more fully human than we will ever know, while at the same time being fully God. And he did it without one whiff of regret or moment of remorse. Not when the answer came that there was no other way. He never, ever flinched. He even refused the opportunity while on the cross to take the edge off with a form of painkiller. Now that is seriously some "I'm crazy about you, will go to the ends of the earth for you, and move every mountain out of your way love" that I just have to honor by spending the rest of my life wrapping my mind around and soaking in.

I want to remember this hallmark of love every single time I am tempted to think God does not understand my pain. Oh he gets it all right - he gets it plenty. And God never goes halfway. Comprehensively to the fullest extent on every single promise. Oh dear ones strain to reach for the truth that He loves you! Furiously, passionately, completely. Every single moment of every single day covering every single facet. He left nothing out.

He took the long way home.

Verses for a lifetime:

Ephesians 3:17(b)-19 (NIV)

And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.

Romans 8:34-35, 38-39 (The Message)

The One who died for us—who was raised to life for us!—is in the presence of God at this very moment sticking up for us. Do you think anyone is going to be able to drive a wedge between us and Christ's love for us? There is no way! Not trouble, not hard times, not hatred, not hunger, not homelessness, not bullying threats, not backstabbing, not even the worst sins listed in Scripure . . . . I'm absolutely convinced that nothing—nothing living or dead, angelic or demonic, today or tomorrow, high or low, thinkable or unthinkable—absolutely nothing can get between us and God's love because of the way that Jesus our Master has embraced us.

1st Corinthians 13:8 (NIV)

Love never fails.

Correct me if I'm wrong . . . .

The end of a very difficult day. Why? Many reasons. The biggest being that I have received some unpleasant (and wholeheartedly unsolicited!) correction from God that I would much rather ignore. The least being that it's really late and instead of writing this post I would prefer to sink into the indulgent cream-filled oblivion of a mindless tv sitcom.

I have a punctuality problem. I was late to work today. . . again -- as was brought to my attention rather unceremoniously. Sure there are days when lateness is unavoidable - things you don't anticipate. Today's, however, was not caused by unseen obstacles but by my lack of planning for difficulties already known to exist. This is not a new problem. It has, however, sparked a much bigger dialog.

The mechanics of Correction.

Discipline, alteration, modification, rectification, improvement, adjustment, amendment, tweak - whatever name you call it - it leads to the same end. The decision you made or are making does not lead to a good destination, which, once brought to your attention, begs another choice; change your direction or continue on and suffer consequences.

I must admit when I get a course correction from God, I desire it be administered in an easily digestible form: have someone point it out in a kind and sensitive manner; have God gently nudge me through His word; develop a slight sensitivity to the wrongdoing through the Spirit. There was nothing soft and furry about today's flaw highlight, marching me to the conclusion that I missed "gentle" the first 792 times this was brought to my attention, thereby leading to the sound baseball bat thump I received instead. In the case of planning and punctuality, correction has popped its unsightly head out so many times (only to be hammer smacked down) that it resembles a Whack-a-Mole machine. All ultimately expending much more energy than simply listening would have produced. But like most people, I've discovered I do not like it one bit when truth stares me in the face and pokes me in the eye.

And so the next part of the equation presents itself. My response. If one is willng to look, God clues us in to the mechanics of this cause and effect over and over in His word.

Proverbs 15:10 - Stern discipline awaits him who leaves the path; he who hates correction will die. (Bam!)

Deuteronomy 30:19 - This day I call heaven and earth as witnesses against you that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Now choose life, so that you and your children may live. (Pow!)

(And my personal favorite)
Proverbs 12:1 - Whoever loves discipline loves knowledge, but he who hates correction is stupid. (Whammo! and Ouch!)

And those are just a few. Criminy, Deuteronomy 30 in its entirety paints a wall-sized mural of this lesson. Batman sound effects aside, though, the warning is clear - choose carefully which path to go skipping merrily down. All rambling procrastinations aside, this begs for me to stop a minute and percolate. Why is my habit to be so stubborn? What prevents me from recognizing these lessons (or flaws) when they present themselves?

The first and most obvious dynamic is I don't want to fix whatever it is. Often I know very well I am choosing the Highway to Hell on-ramp, usually while singing AC/DC at the top of my lungs. Root Cause No. 1: Open rebellion. Foolish choice. God has promised consequences are coming. Getting to the root of this behavior has - without exception - uncovered my mistrust of God and his character as its source. I either (1) want something I think God the cosmic killjoy is holding back from me (sound familiar Eve?), or (2) believe he really doesn't love me enough to give me whatever it is so I have to get it myself. Getting to the core of this lie is the key to melting my defiance.

The second root of stubborness is I alone can't fix it. When it comes to tardiness (as with many other bad behaviors and habits), I have tried to change countless hundreds of times and failed miserably. I have to ask God for help. Root Cause No. 2: Control. I have it and need to let go of it. This little seesaw goes up and down constantly. I am optimistic that having refused to give up the driver seat, thus careening over the embankment, so many times now, letting go of the steering wheel is becoming more natural. (Relax beltway drivers, strictly an illustration.)

I have to be finished digging, right? Not quite. In my musings, I stumbled upon a positively unsightly little tumor. I refuse to change or obey because I've convinced myself I am above the law. That's right - a sense of entitlement. Root Cause No. 3: Privilege. That heartfelt belief that everyone else has to follow the rules, but I am exempt. Whoa! Suddenly I am the Queen of England. Not an endearing personality trait. No wonder I don't want to look too hard at it.

And surely there are dozens more. It's clear our heart knows as many ways to rationalize doing wrong as there are cells in our bodies. And even the few I've touched on require more in-depth study and clean-up. Aww well, so goes life. Moving through the messy business of loose ends, always unfinished; learning, growing, failing, succeeding, progressing, backsliding. Pressing on toward the goal, forgetting what lies behind. I'm sure there will be more posts to come as I wrestle with my flesh and take on the vision of who I am and who I am still to be in Christ

Verses for the day: Philippians 3:12-14 (The Message)

I'm not saying that I have this all together, that I have it made. But I am well on my way, reaching out for Christ, who has so wondrously reached out for me. Friends, don't get me wrong: By no means do I count myself an expert in all of this, but I've got my eye on the goal, where God is beckoning us onward—to Jesus. I'm off and running, and I'm not turning back.

Peter Piper Picked A Peck of People Pleasers

People pleasing. A phrase and state of being I have come to loathe. One that is unpleasant most if not all of the time for the pleaser, pretty sweet for the pleasee. Sadly no 12-step meetings for this one, although there certainly should be. Hi, my name is ___________, and I'm a people pleaser. Hi _______________.


This is the first of what will probably be many reflections regarding this nasty personality trait. A craft whose road I have traveled from apprentice to journeyman to master. So ingrained in this art have I become that sadly I realized it's the driving force behind most of my choices. Every word that I say to every person that I say it. Every position on every issue tailored so as not to offend the person I'm speaking to. It can creep into personal choices: what will I wear, what will I eat, what car will I buy, what books will I read, what music will I listen to? Until the wonderful me that I am and how God uniquely wired me together is so obscured by taking the path of least resistance that I am unrecognizable. It's utterly exhausting and comprehensively soul-killing!

So where did this ugly placating start? Childhood I would imagine. Be pleasant or be ignored - even worse, be disliked. When the personal security question of "Am I Okay?" isn't answered and reinforced through normal childhood channels (parents, responses from those in authority, etc.), one frantically starts asking for that reassurance from everyone she meets. Needy? And how. People pleasing in its simplest form. Validation turned to fear. Okay, enough deconstructing for the moment.

The farther I travel down this road to know and love God with all my heart, soul, mind and strength, the more I realize the size of this malignancy. As is most obviously the case, one cannot endeavor to love and please God when the foundation her life is built upon shifts according to the whims of the surrounding world's likes and dislikes. If I want to stand for truth and foster integrity, I must be prepared to stay planted on God's truth. This will with certain inevitability lead to forks in the road. I must be willing to risk being disliked by people (shudder) in order to stick with the God who saved me.

Allow me to digress for the remainder of this post to a verse I received yesterday in an email from a friend. Thus began the long trek down this rabbit trail. What follows after it is my reply.

How is it possible for you to learn to believe, you who are content to seek and receive praise and honor and glory from one another, and yet do not seek the praise and honor and glory which come from Him who alone is God? (John 5:44)

Ahh, the bitter conundrum. (Well - maybe that's where my mental adjustment needs to start. Pleasing God not being bitter and all.) Back to my ponderings.

If I focus on pleasing God, a safe bet says I'd be more pleasing at least to believers - which I have found not always to be the case (believer being a subjective state). If I focus on pleasing God, then unbelievers, unfortunately (especially when it invites them to consider a personal wrongdoing), are not at all pleased with me. After chewing on this for some time this afternoon, I have landed on the element of inverted thinking. When I think of people as big then I am thinking of God as small. When I think of God as big then people occupy their rightful place in my mind. So I ruminated on Psalm 56 and came to the conclusion that in the words of the infamous Prince - "Who do ya trust if you can't trust God?" Who is going to provide for me? People or God. Who is going to vindicate me on judgment day? People or God. Who came to earth and died for my sins? People or God . . . . and so it all ultimately comes back to trust. Ruthless trust Brennan Manning would say.

Verse for the Day

Psalm 56:4 (NIV)

In God, whose word I praise, in God I trust; I will not be afraid. What can mortal man do to me?

Hi, Lot's wife here. Have we met?

An alarming thing happened today. Something that has been building for a year. Well, truth be told, it has been building for decades. Let me rewind a bit and include some background. I am a board certified, card carrying, remote hogging, channel surfing, lazy load watching tv addict. It is impossible to calculate the amount of time I have wasted in front of the idiot box - a term my mother was fond of - which always amused me as it was my mother who put a tv in her 8-yr old's room (granted, I was demon spawn - just ask my tortured older brother). Needless to say my childhood was a technicolor blur; as was the better part of my 30's.

So, back to my story.

When I recommitted my life to Christ at 38, tv was one of many addictive behaviors God and I took on. I moved in 2004 and made a landmark decision to opt for basic-basic (did I mention basic?) cable which consisted of about 12 channels. The customary broadcast channels, 22 home shopping networks and 11 stations broadasting only in Spanish. Okay, so that totals more than 9. But you get the picture. Pretty slim pickings - especially at 3 am when the viewing consists of infomercials or infomercials in Spanish (why did I never learn Spanish?!). The adjustment was initially like cutting off a limb. Still, after time, I started to thrive due to the abbreviated selections, and developed a very full and active life. Relationships were rekindled. New friendships formed. Books (books?) begun - and finished! A life full of the living.

Alas, a year ago I fell hook, line and sinker for the cable company's clever marketing and signed up for their inclusive package. (You know the one that bundles internet/phone/cable together in one "low" price.) The gimmick is to have you sign up for more services than you currently have in hopes that, when the price is jacked up a year later, you will be so hooked you've convinced yourself you can't possibly do without. As you can imagine, opening the door and inviting an addiction into the house again took its toll. My thriving relationship and dialog with God was stopped dead in its tracks. Friendships were strained. Weight was gained (after all who can resist mindlessly stuffing your face as you watch). Health deteriorated. Sleep suffered. Work suffered. Guilt and shame ensued over the countless marathon hours (days, weekends) spent in front of the tube allowing it to suck the drive and intelligence out through my eyeballs. My full and active life was stuffed into a moldy duffel bag and thrown into the dark recesses of the storage closet.

As you might have guessed, my low price came to an end recently and the decision was mine to ponder once more. Pay the extra 60 bucks a month or downgrade. So I downgraded. They came today. And this time, like any addiction after a relapse, turning off the cable channels I had grown so dependent on once again was physically painful. How on earth would I function minus my carefully sculpted watching schedule? The worst part? Mixed with the relief that comes from being liberated from my cage, came the sad wistfulness that tonight I would not be able to go home and see the first episode of one of my coveted shows new season. How sad is that? Just like Lot's wife, my heart pined for the oppression of my chains. So instead of running full speed towards freedom with full understanding I'd been spared, I turned and lamented my missing shackles.

I know the cravings will subside and the rewards gained will enormously outweigh any momentary longings. But boy the lessons learned will echo for I hope a lifetime. Be careless and invite sin to tea but rest assured it will quickly evict you out into the street and proceed to set your drapes on fire.

And so I'm off. Off to taste and see the land of the living.

Verses for the day:

Hebrews 12:1-2 (Amplified Bible) (emphasis mine)

1Therefore then, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses [who have borne testimony to the Truth], let us strip off and throw aside every encumbrance (unnecessary weight) and that sin which so readily (deftly and cleverly) clings to and entangles us, and let us run with patient endurance and steady and active persistence the appointed course of the race that is set before us.

2Looking away [from all that will distract] to Jesus, Who is the Leader and the Source of our faith [giving the first incentive for our belief] and is also its Finisher [bringing it to maturity and perfection]. He, for the joy [of obtaining the prize] that was set before Him, endured the cross, despising and ignoring the shame, and is now seated at the right hand of the throne of God.

Genesis 4:7 (NIV)

If you do what is right, will you not be accepted? But if you do not do what is right, sin is crouching at your door; it desires to have you, but you must master it.

The Down Right Dangerous Message of Failure

Debilitating. Discouraging. Demoralizing. All words meant to describe what the feeling of failure does to a person. Well does to me anyway. Mistakenly concluding that, as much as I loathe the fit of this cloak, my distaste would act as a deterrent, thus ensuring my commitment to success. Ahh, but closer scrutiny reveals that this particular garment has a sticky inner lining that once donned produces cling as stubborn as those annoying Styrofoam packing peanuts. More descriptively, dog poo scented Styrofoam packing peanuts. In short, failure – or my perception of it – can and has shut me down for quite a while - many times, days.

This being my first post, perhaps a little background is called for. I am a 40-something woman who has just been (finally) diagnosed with Chronic Lyme Disease. A diagnosis coming on the heels of an apparently all too common “it’s M.S., no it’s Lyme, no it’s M.S., no it’s Lyme . . .” tug of war played by numerous doctors with numerous contradictory opinions and their numerous non-conclusive tests (and, of course, the numerous piles of money the afore-mentioned things require). The end result of all this being that most days I feel like slightly warmed over crap on toast. (Well now. That was less than delicate, wasn’t it.)

Back to failure.

I had somewhere I wanted to be this morning. A bible study to be exact. But things started out difficult, and, as has become my m.o. more and more lately, I did not overcome those obstacles. The morning progressed and the physical challenges, coupled with disappointment in self, combined to strip the morning of any productivity whatsoever. And so, arriving at my job – 2+ hours late – my initially harmless, peanut-sized accessory had become a full blown Michelin man sized, medieval coat of armor. Hardly conducive to fruitful labor.

I am happy to report that with the aide and support of trusted friends (and their willingness to brave the stench) I was last seen beating the poo (intended) out of failure and stuffing the useless garment into a trash compacter, hopeful that at least for the moment it is gone. I’m keeping my eyes open though, and if (or more truthfully, when) the ugly vestige worms it’s stinky way back into my closet I hope to promptly feed it to the shredder.

Verses for the day: Eccleciastes 4:9-12 (The Message)

9 Two people are better off than one, for they can help each other succeed. 10 If one person falls, the other can reach out and help. But someone who falls alone is in real trouble.

12 A person standing alone can be attacked and defeated, but two can stand back-to-back and conquer. Three are even better, for a triple-braided cord is not easily broken.