In a little over an hour, I'm going to go talk to a neighbor about my relationship with God. And I'm scared.
Honestly, it was a pretty confusing year. It wasn't the changes or the struggles so much. But the way God showed up.
I feel like I've been given this huge gift...and I've been throwing rotten eggs at it or...or...something.
So tonight I'm going to talk with my neighbor.
I wonder, will she think I'm totally off my rocker?
It was so hard...picking up the phone..."Hi, it's me from next door...How are the grandkids? Could we chat sometime about...about God?"
I wonder why it's so hard to ask for help, admit we are weak? I wonder why it's so, so hard to admit we need help in our relationship with God?
Sometimes I let Our relationship suffer, and all my relationships suffer as a result, just because I don't want to admit how much I'm hurting...and I don't want to bother anybody.
But isn't it worth it? Isn't it worth it for a husband, a wife, a child? And how much more so to be close to the God of the universe? His heart longs for us, breaks for us...and He rejoices as we draw near, as a father rejoices for a long lost son.
Showing posts with label Questions. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Questions. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
Thursday, December 13, 2007
More Thoughts for Advent
The website scared me. It wasn't the cutsie graphic of baby bunnies on the left or the pretty lavender background. It wasn't the title at the top of the page--something about love and God and struggle. It was the article. It said I was damned.
Actually, to be perfectly fair, it didn't say that I was damned. It just listed a bunch of things you needed to do, or not do, in order to be saved. So, to say that the article said I was damned isn't totally accurate.
But it was convincing. And if there really was a list like that of things one must do, or not do, in order to earn God's grace, then what about all that other stuff? I mean, that stuff they forgot to put on that list? Like those times I lose sleep over worry...and those days I struggle with some sin or other...what about those other times...the times that I didn't struggle...and I just gave in? If there was any line I could cross that would lead God to reject me, I would cross it. Not because I don't desire God, but because I am me.
The article scared me. Because some of it seemed to make so much sense. It seemed so true.
That Wednesday at Bible study I asked a friend about my questions--a wise older gentleman who knows just about everything and is a little bit like a cross between C.S. Lewis and Santa Claus. He helped knock some sense back into my head.
We know that there is nothing we can do to make ourselves worthy of God's love. "For if righteousness could be gained through the law, Christ died for nothing." One of the amazing reminders of Advent is that He has come to do it for us, because He loves us. He has come to give us a gift, the gift of Himself.
The gospel. It is a story most of us are probably familiar with. But to be honest, I sometimes need reminders. Like that day I stumbled across that website, I can be scared, wondering "what about this mistake? What about this sin? Does this disqualify me? Is this too much for God to forgive?"
That story of the One who was born for us, died for us, loves us, desires us. It's an old story, but I've found that I always love to hear it again.
Actually, to be perfectly fair, it didn't say that I was damned. It just listed a bunch of things you needed to do, or not do, in order to be saved. So, to say that the article said I was damned isn't totally accurate.
But it was convincing. And if there really was a list like that of things one must do, or not do, in order to earn God's grace, then what about all that other stuff? I mean, that stuff they forgot to put on that list? Like those times I lose sleep over worry...and those days I struggle with some sin or other...what about those other times...the times that I didn't struggle...and I just gave in? If there was any line I could cross that would lead God to reject me, I would cross it. Not because I don't desire God, but because I am me.
The article scared me. Because some of it seemed to make so much sense. It seemed so true.
That Wednesday at Bible study I asked a friend about my questions--a wise older gentleman who knows just about everything and is a little bit like a cross between C.S. Lewis and Santa Claus. He helped knock some sense back into my head.
We know that there is nothing we can do to make ourselves worthy of God's love. "For if righteousness could be gained through the law, Christ died for nothing." One of the amazing reminders of Advent is that He has come to do it for us, because He loves us. He has come to give us a gift, the gift of Himself.
The gospel. It is a story most of us are probably familiar with. But to be honest, I sometimes need reminders. Like that day I stumbled across that website, I can be scared, wondering "what about this mistake? What about this sin? Does this disqualify me? Is this too much for God to forgive?"
That story of the One who was born for us, died for us, loves us, desires us. It's an old story, but I've found that I always love to hear it again.
Monday, December 3, 2007
Some Thoughts for Advent
I lied at the doctor's appointment that day. We sat there, me and the boys, discussing what would happen if worse came to worse, and I was trying to say all the right big-sisterly sorts of reassuring things, when the doctor walked in, breaking our discussion off mid-sentence. He went through that usual check off sheet--have you started any new medications? Who's the president? And so on. But what was I supposed to say when he asked me how my moods were? I couldn't tell him that life was going to heck in a hand basket. So I smiled and said great, just great. Well, I don't think he believed me, anyway.
That's the problem with pain, though. So much of it is hidden. So much of it makes us invisible, because our real selves--the ones who love and hurt and feel--have to be kept behind a happy smiling mask.
The man behind you in the bleachers is being mocked by his co-workers because of his epilepsy. The woman beside you in the pew is being harassed by social services and is afraid she'll lose her children--even though she's a great mom. The family declares bankruptcy. The marriage is rocky but somehow survives his porn addiction, her affair. The adoption is terminated. The baby is forgotten in the car.
Some kinds of pain are tricky because it can be hard to find a healthy or appropriate way to talk about them. It's hard to talk about them without hurting, or even endangering the people involved. There are many good families who are harassed by social services--I have known at least three. But you can't go to your co-workers and say "man, I'm having a bad week! I'm afraid of losing my children!" It doesn't look good.
And so his troubled past still haunts you. You have forgiven him, and yet you worry each time he comes home so late from work, or when he goes off on those business trips. And you wonder who you can turn to. Because it's so easy for us to label each other based on what we have done, or even what we look like, what our titles are. Instead of really seeing each other. You love him. And you know he really has repented. He really has changed. You don't want them labeling him, labeling your marriage...You just wish there was someone you could talk to.
Pain makes us invisible. We no longer see each other, we no longer see ourselves. But one of the amazing things about Christ is that He chose to become the ultimate Invisible Man. He chose to become us--first by taking on flesh, living in this world where we get rocks in our sandals and tangles in our hair; and then by taking on our sin, becoming our sin, becoming us so that we could become His righteousness.
God knows what it is to be invisible, overlooked, forgotten. And often, it is me who is doing the forgetting. God loves us enough to risk Himself and be forgotten. The God of the Universe sees us and knows us. So it is in turning to Him, we become less invisible. It is in turning to Him that we can know and be known.
That's the problem with pain, though. So much of it is hidden. So much of it makes us invisible, because our real selves--the ones who love and hurt and feel--have to be kept behind a happy smiling mask.
The man behind you in the bleachers is being mocked by his co-workers because of his epilepsy. The woman beside you in the pew is being harassed by social services and is afraid she'll lose her children--even though she's a great mom. The family declares bankruptcy. The marriage is rocky but somehow survives his porn addiction, her affair. The adoption is terminated. The baby is forgotten in the car.
Some kinds of pain are tricky because it can be hard to find a healthy or appropriate way to talk about them. It's hard to talk about them without hurting, or even endangering the people involved. There are many good families who are harassed by social services--I have known at least three. But you can't go to your co-workers and say "man, I'm having a bad week! I'm afraid of losing my children!" It doesn't look good.
And so his troubled past still haunts you. You have forgiven him, and yet you worry each time he comes home so late from work, or when he goes off on those business trips. And you wonder who you can turn to. Because it's so easy for us to label each other based on what we have done, or even what we look like, what our titles are. Instead of really seeing each other. You love him. And you know he really has repented. He really has changed. You don't want them labeling him, labeling your marriage...You just wish there was someone you could talk to.
Pain makes us invisible. We no longer see each other, we no longer see ourselves. But one of the amazing things about Christ is that He chose to become the ultimate Invisible Man. He chose to become us--first by taking on flesh, living in this world where we get rocks in our sandals and tangles in our hair; and then by taking on our sin, becoming our sin, becoming us so that we could become His righteousness.
God knows what it is to be invisible, overlooked, forgotten. And often, it is me who is doing the forgetting. God loves us enough to risk Himself and be forgotten. The God of the Universe sees us and knows us. So it is in turning to Him, we become less invisible. It is in turning to Him that we can know and be known.
Saturday, November 3, 2007
Living Our Questions
I haven't been blogging lately for a number of reasons, but mostly because I've been busy living out my questions.
I think there are at least two kinds of questions we get along this Christian journey--the ones we can answer by reading a book or article, and the ones we have to work through by living life. Often, these two types of questions overlap.
Does scripture contradict itself? Is it historically accurate? Those are the sorts of questions that--for me--I can find satisfying answers to with an apologetics website.
How can I learn to forgive? What should reconciliation look like? Those are the sorts of questions that need to be worked through by a change in the way we live.
In a way, all of the Christian life is like a question--perhaps "what does it look like for me to live out my new life in Christ?"--a question based on truth, that changes the way we live.
I think there are at least two kinds of questions we get along this Christian journey--the ones we can answer by reading a book or article, and the ones we have to work through by living life. Often, these two types of questions overlap.
Does scripture contradict itself? Is it historically accurate? Those are the sorts of questions that--for me--I can find satisfying answers to with an apologetics website.
How can I learn to forgive? What should reconciliation look like? Those are the sorts of questions that need to be worked through by a change in the way we live.
In a way, all of the Christian life is like a question--perhaps "what does it look like for me to live out my new life in Christ?"--a question based on truth, that changes the way we live.
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