Strengthened and Protected…by Joy

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I need this one to sink deeply into my heart today.

It has been a day of painful awareness…of stark realities that, frankly, frighten and sadden me.

No, no dreadful medical diagnoses, or other such troubles.  My concerns are of a sort that have troubled many people (if not most) throughout all of history.  The details don't matter.  You have your own troubles to bring to this reading.

Despair and depression beckon.  I know their voices well.  But I don't intend to answer their call.

No, I'm not "toughening up."  I'm not counseling myself to "Keep a stiff upper lip," "Don't Worry, Be Happy," or "Just have faith that everything will be okay."  I don't have time to waste on false "help."

I need real joy.  Not the kind that we humans can pluck on our own heartstrings, but the kind that vibrates in sympathy with Heaven.  The kind that plays forth from a stroke of the Master's hand.

I need joy for protection, and for strength.

When God develops joy in me, He protects me from depression, despair, anger, and surliness. 

I don't need the kind of joy that denies reality.  I don't need the protection of a hiding place.  I need the kind of joy-armor that puts a smile on my lips as I head into a battle called "tomorrow."  I need a joy that can weep with the genuine sorrows of life, but still rejoice in the divine "Nevertheless."

"The joy of the LORD is your strength." (Neh 8:10b)

I can honestly say that I'm not accustomed to praying for joy.  I couldn't have done so until recently.  Tender emotions were for suckers, remember?  So asking for joy would have made me feel downright idiotic.

Oh, I accepted joy when God sent it, and gladly.  And He has sent it; sometimes in the beauty of His creation, sometimes in prayer, sometimes in the glory of a soul-dance called Sign Language.  But somehow whenever joy has passed, I have tended to see its passing as proof that I was a fool to have entertained it at all.

Sucker.  I don't know when or how that word took such deep root in my soul.  It wasn't used in my childhood home.  But I feel the scorn of it even now, knowing that, when I'm through writing this, I'm going to hit my knees and pray for joy.  I think the request will stick in my throat at first, but only for a moment.  God is working change in this middle-aged heart.  I will ask for joy, knowing that it is His will to give it to me.  How could He not want to grow the Fruit of His own Spirit?

I will ask for joy to protect me from depression, from despair, from anger, and from surliness.  I will ask Him to give me joy to keep me from committing all of the sins that attend those heart attitudes, and from all of the regrets that would follow.  I will ask for joy to strengthen me to persevere and even to thrive right here where God has placed me.  I will ask for it to bless everyone around me, especially those who once felt my strength only as anger.  And I will ask for joy to be buttressed by love, and peace, and by all of the other facets of God's spiritual fruit.

And I will not close my heart against joy when He gives it.  Joy is not for suckers.  It is for those who step into His presence (Ps. 16:11).

That's where I want to live.

 

Protected and Strengthened…by Love

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Nothing draws me like the feeling of being warmly, strongly loved and cared for.  The thought of loving protection makes me melt.

So when the Spirit of God nudged me to "Re-think the Fruit of the Spirit in terms of how God protects you," I was eager to go.

According to Gal.5:22-23, the first facet of this "Fruit of the Spirit" is love.

Now, it's easy to see how God's love for me would involve protection.  Isn't that what a loving Father does?  But how does God protect me by growing love in me?

Sometimes, before we can understand protection, we have to understand our enemy.  Imagine, for example, that I went to a remote, "Stone Age" tribe and handed a warrior a small, funny-smelling bit of cloth.  Suppose I told him it was for his protection.  He'd probably laugh me to scorn and use it in playful mock fights with other strapping fellows like himself.  But if he came to understand that the funny smell was mosquito repellant, and that the "enemy" was mosquito-borne malaria, he would no longer laugh.

When I went through some of the hard times that I described yesterday, I thought my painful circumstances were my enemies.  And when God didn't change them, I concluded that He hadn't protected me.  But now, ten years down the road (and counting), I perceive a completely different enemy.  My problem isn't my circumstances, but my inability to cope with them, much less triumph in them.  The enemy is within me.

Now, that's not to downplay the severity of some of the challenges I face.  But when I think how much better my circumstances could now be if I had been a different person for the past ten years, I'm reminded of that famous old quote… 

"We have met the enemy, and he is us."

I do not find myself daily lamenting autism or bipolar disorder or the other challenges that make our family unique.  Instead, I find myself lamenting how I sin against my family, how I inadvertently fail them, how their futures are already more challenged because of those failings, and how I lack the wisdom to do better.

No, I'm not talking about "beating myself up," so please don't write and tell me to go easier on myself.  I'm just explaining that I see the real enemy more clearly than I used to.  And he is me…not that I'm an evil person, but that I'm an ordinary, flawed, flesh-and-blood, finite, fallible sinner like everybody else.  My family needs more than I can give them. 

When I think about God's protection, it no longer looks like "taking my kids' special needs away."  It looks like strengthening me to do His will where I live, because that will help my family thrive.  It looks like feeding my soul where it would otherwise starve.

And so we come back to love. 

When God develops love in me, He protects me from sinning against Himself and others, and from missing out on the joy of fellowship with both.

I would be hard-pressed to tell you any sin that I have committed that has not been, at the very least, a failure of love.  If God changes me so that I love more deeply, imagine the sins that He will have protected me from committing, and the regrets he will have kept me from feeling!  Imagine how my family would be protected from those sins!

And remember, this protection isn't like a hiding place.  This protection is like armor, meant to be worn on a battlefield where the enemy is not made of flesh and blood.  With God's love filling me I am not protected from others, per se, but I am protected from the sin inside myself that would cause me to fail spiritually, to cause harm and shame.

Because I'm protected, I'm strengthened and emboldened.  Imagine how much I could bless my family with more of His love filling my soul!

Remember yesterday I said I had been at an impasse for much of my parenting career, because I felt I had to choose between loving and being tough enough to handle life?  Remember how "toughness" always came from anger, squelched tenderness, and made life miserable for everyone?

God, my protector and strengthener, is showing me a different source of strength.  His love, growing in me, increasingly protects me from the worst things I could be and the worst things I could do…and this protection gives me courage to face more than I could before.  Love and strength are no longer in opposition.  They are two sides of the same coin.  The impasse is being resolved. 

I'm praying for fruit much more than for relief.  I'm no longer squashing my tender feelings or rejecting them as "weak."  Instead, I get to rejoice in them and be strengthened by them.  This is radical, guys.

Of course He has a lot of work left to do, and He will until He takes me home to Glory.  But already I'm seeing new hope springing up in me, because I see exciting possibilities.  Already my children are starting to respond to a Mom who draws more strength from love than she used to. 

I rejoice, because God is so good!

Your turn, dear reader.  Are there any ways you'd like to be protected or strengthened by a new work of God's love in your heart?  Do you have a testimony of how godly love in your soul has already given you safety or strength?  I'd love to hear from you, so please leave a comment below.

 

Protection and Strength

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"Life's tough, so you'd better get over it!"

"Oh, boo-hoo, you enjoy being depressed!"

It doesn't take long for a child to figure out she's on her own.  And it doesn't take long for her to come up with her own emotional survival strategies.  But of course she's only a child, and a sinner to boot.  Her strategies are fatally flawed, but she can't see that.  By the time she's a woman, they've become an unquestioned part of who she is, and they feel like life to her. 

Toughen up.  Shut down the tender feelings that make a sucker out of you.  And don't expect help from anybody.  In fact, keep 'em all at arm's length, or they'll suck you dry with their demands.  Just show them the smile and move on.  Handle life on your own.

That attitude is so deeply ingrained in me that I've never really examined it until recently.  Of course toughness is necessary for survival, so of course it's loving.  Of course tenderness is for suckers.  (Never mind how deeply I long for it!)

What do you do when life brings you more than you can handle?  If you were raised like I was, you know that God is up there.  And though you don't believe He loves you personally, you do know that you once prayed the right prayer to take advantage of God's legal loophole and get forgiven.  So when you need something, you pray.  And pray.  And pray.

But what if God doesn't answer?  What if your precious toddling son really is gone, replaced by this look-alike who has lost all of his personality, who does nothing but scream day in and day out until you have no nerves left to fry?  What if there are diagnoses that leave you without hope for his future…and then you find out your older son has something similar? 

And what if God doesn't do anything about it, no matter how you plead, no matter how obviously you're drowning?

If you're like me, you go into hiding.  You build walls.  You avoid as much of reality as you possibly can.  People don't help, and now you know that God won't, either.  The circumstances just never change, and they don't look like they ever will.  How could they?  Autism and Bipolar Disorder don't go away.  Medications only help a little.  How can I be the mother these children need?

The answer echoes from my own childhood.  Toughen up, wimp!  That's the only way to cope and be what they need you to be.  And so I try, but it's not in me.  I can't shut off what's good inside my soul, even if I believe that "toughness" is the most loving thing I can do.

Can anything be more paralyzing than finding none of life's options to be livable?

Something inside of me sobs for a protector, but there isn't one.  I learned that when God didn't change what was killing me.  So nothing remains but to try to make the inner sobs shut up.  Pour contempt on them.  Crybaby!  Wimp!  Nobody's going to protect you but you.  So hide.  Hide.  Hide.

Computer solitaire, anyone?  Or how about catching up on Christian blogs, or the latest news?  Has another day disappeared already?

Sometimes I venture out of my hiding place.  The calendar keeps flipping.  Children keep growing.  The past is a blur.  Opportunities have disappeared forever.  The future makes huge demands, and I've got to be tough to meet them.  My family needs me to be stronger!  So I try, but toughness requires anger and kills all softness in me.  And it's so ugly!  I hate it.  My family hates it.  I can't bear to keep it up for long.  Before I know it, I'm sinking back into escapism, knowing I've failed again because I'm not strong enough. 

Of course, during all of the lonely years, God hasn't really been absent.  He has thrown away all religious nonsense about "legal loopholes" and has introduced me to Himself.  He has brought friends into my life, and has taught me to trust and enjoy them, and even to be there for them.  He has allowed my most autistic child to progress in ways I never would have imagined.  He has allowed me to be fed wonderful spiritual food from different sources.  He has grown my faith tremendously.

But still, as I mentioned yesterday, there has always been a radical disconnection between my faith and my life.  It's not that I'm living in any gross sin.  It's just that I still don't have the strength to face my responsibilities. 

But just a few days ago a thought popped into my head that could only have come from God.  It's too foreign to my way of thinking for me to have manufactured it myself.

Re-think the Fruit of the Spirit in terms of how God protects you.

The part of my soul that sobs for a protector sat up and took notice right away.  And God must have done some cultivating to prepare my heart's soil for that little seed, because it seems to be taking root. 

It dawned on me that protection isn't synonymous with hiding.  (That's a paradigm-shattering notion right there!)  Protection can be like armor in the middle of a battle.  It can make even a coward rush toward the enemy, can keep a weak man from being skewered, and can preserve a strong man to fight another day.

Then it dawned on me that, if protection can make you strong and brave, then maybe you don't need ugly, soul-killing, tenderness-squelching, angry "toughness" in order to face life's challenges.

Maybe, "Be strong in the Lord" doesn't mean what I thought it meant at all.  Maybe it doesn't mean "believe the right things and carry a big stick."

Could this "gotta be tough" mindset be the false belief system that has been holding me back?  I've been praying for God to teach me to walk in His grace…is this part of His answer?

This is beginning to sound exciting!  Maybe there's a way to be strong and loving!  Do you suppose?

And maybe…maybe if protection doesn't look the way I expected it to look, then perhaps it's because it's suited for a totally different enemy than the one I thought I was fighting.  Had I mis-identified my opponent?

And if I was wrong about my opponent and about what protection looks like, then was I wrong to conclude that God had failed to protect me?  Could I really scrap my forlorn conviction that I have to go it alone?

And how does the Fruit of the Spirit figure into all of this?  (I know, I had planned to elaborate on that today, but I've already made this entry long enough just by laying the groundwork.  Tomorrow then, okay?)

 

Confusing Ends with Means

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I've been gone awhile.

Not "gone" as in "traveling," but as in "out of commission."  Life's stresses built up to the point where writing was out of the question.

There is a time to keep silence and a time to speak (Ecc 3:7), and this was definitely a time for me to keep quiet and listen.

Some of you were used by God to speak to me during this time.  You may or may not know it, but I do.  More importantly, God does, and you will not lose your reward (Matt 10:42).

So why is it time to write again?  Because He has given me a focus, a direction, some things to work through.  I write to learn, more than to teach.  I desperately need the content He gives me, and the chance to pass it along to someone else is pure gravy.

And what is He wanting to teach me?  For starters, it's that my spiritual focus has been wrong.  I've been focusing more on external circumstances than on internal realities.  And when I've tried to deal with internals, I've done it mainly with an eye toward changing my circumstances.  That hasn't been my conscious motivation, but it was my motivation nonetheless.

Now, there's nothing wrong with praying about (and dealing with) circumstances.  We do not have because we do not ask (James 4:2).  But sometimes, God gives a different answer than the one we were hoping for.  Sometimes He says to us, like He said to the Apostle Paul, that our pain has a good purpose, and that He intends for it to continue (2 Co 12:8-9). 

Whatever my spiritual direction has been, it hasn't been sufficient to prepare me for an answer like the one Paul got.  I have regularly stumbled, gotten discouraged, and quit in the face of overwhelming and unrelenting difficulties.  My spirituality was beautiful in theory, but it couldn't stand up to the realities of my life.  That's one reason why I've found it so much easier to read and write my faith than to pick up a scrub brush with it. 

I'm not talking about hypocrisy.  I have believed, deeply.  But there has been a radical disconnection between my head's belief and my heart's life, and I haven't been able to figure out why.

I could live out my faith if only they would…

I would be loving, but it's all so overwhelming…

Paul stopped praying for relief when God explained to him that His grace was sufficient.  But I fear that my heart has been saying, "Sorry, God.  Your grace is not sufficient for me.  I need relief!"

What if life never stops being overwhelming?  Is my spiritual walk really to be held hostage, only to be released when things become manageable for me?  Why have I resorted to escapism and other sins so often?  What has made me feel that I couldn't do what I knew God wanted me to do?  Why would I turn away from love, from patience, from kindness when things got rough?

Could it be that, even though I "know better," I have been judging the value of godliness based on whether or not it changed my circumstances?

What if godliness isn't supposed to be a means to an end?  What if it is the end that we are to seek?

Of course it is.  I know that, at least in my head.  But in my heart I've been screaming, "Life can't go on like this! I can't go on like this!"

And so, I quickly resort to the things that bring me relief, or that I hope will change my circumstances, even if they're not godly.

God hasn't told me to stop praying for circumstantial relief, so I will continue to do so.  But relief may end up coming in a package that has nothing to do with a change in circumstances.

Maybe relief comes from a change in me.  Godliness may turn out to be its own reward, if I give it a chance.

Tomorrow I want to write down some thoughts I've been having about how godliness (specifically, the Fruit of the Spirit) can help me, even if it doesn't change my circumstances at all.  It won't be the wisdom of experience, because I don't have enough experience.  But it will be the sorts of truths that I want to tell myself, the sorts of beliefs I want to encourage.  Maybe they'll help others, too.

 

Quotables for 3/5/10

"I have noticed among domestic servants one very common reason of unsettlement. It is that they do not know who is the mistress and have to take orders from half a dozen people. And all of us are servants in God's house, and always in our service we shall be irritable unless there be one voice we must obey and one will which gives us all our orders. That was the meaning of the peace of Job. He saw God always, and he saw Him everywhere. "The Lord hath given, and the Lord hath taken away," said Job, "blessed be the name of the Lord." It was not God today and fate tomorrow. It was not heaven in the morning and blind chance at night. Through light and shadow it was God to Job, and that was one secret of his rest. So is it with us all. To have many masters is always to be restless." ~ G.H. Morrison

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"No one can serve two masters." 

(Jesus, Matt 6:24)

Christian Brainwashing?

I continue to feel troubled by the recent events surrounding the death of Lydia Schatz, and by the fact that so many in Christian circles defend the often abusive "discipline" methods of Michael and Debi Pearl.  While I don't intend to write an entire series on the subject, I do feel the need to look at this nightmarish story from another angle.

Would you ever dream of hiring a North Vietnamese Communist prison warden or a Stalinist "re-educator" to babysit your children?  Would you feel that such a "caregiver" would be worth having because of the dramatic results he could bring about?  If he showed you a nice face sometimes, would it make the terrible stuff more acceptable?  Do the ends justify the means?  After all, just think how quickly he could change your children and make them behave!

Preposterous, right?  We pray for our children to be miraculously made new by the Spirit of God, not brainwashed into mindless submission, right?

Right?

Listen to this synopsis of the stages of brainwashing (to get the full version, click on the link):

• Assault on identity (loss of sense of self; weakened beliefs and values; malleability.)
• Guilt (the belief that torture is deserved.)
• Self-betrayal (a break with all ties of loyalty to the past)
• Breaking point (extreme emotional breakdown accompanied by the fear of total annihilation of the self.)
• Leniency (makes the victim feel deeply grateful toward their torturer.)
• The compulsion to confess (Strong attachment to the torturer and the desire to please them by agreeing with them about one's own wrongness.)
• Channeling of Guilt and Re-education (really two steps in which the person continues the process of casting off their old self as a way to release guilt, and adapting their identity to the torturer's will.)
• Progress and harmony (the victim finds peace and friendship and relief of suffering as a reward for becoming what their torturer wants them to be.)
• Final confession and rebirth (Complete and total self-renunciation and total allegiance to the brainwasher.)

Now listen to some of the Pearl's views on discipline in general, and then read the following description of how he would deal with an angry child (I will add comments, though I doubt you'll need them):

"I could break his anger in two days. He would be too scared to get angry." 

(He doesn't elaborate on what he would do in these two days, but if you've read the links above, you know it won't be pretty.  When you consider the fear-based control and his other writings on corporal punishment, there can be little doubt it's torture, assault on identity, guilt, and everything else that leads up to the "breaking point" that comes next.  If that sounds far-fetched, here's another quote from Michael Pearl: "it [the object used for punishment] will absolve the child of guilt, cleanse his soul, and give him a fresh start…" Funny, I thought that was what Jesus did, not what the Rod did.  When the Rod becomes the savior, of course the brainwasher will wield it vigorously!)

"On the third day he would draw into a quiet shell and obey."

(That was obviously the breaking point.  Can you not see the empty faces of abused children who've withdrawn into a shell?  Is this what Jesus did with little children?  Is this what we want for them?)

"On the fourth day I would treat him with respect and he would respond in kind."

(Clearly that's the "leniency" phase of the brainwashing.)

"On the fifth day the fear would go away and he would relax because he would have judged that as long as he responds correctly there is nothing to fear. On the sixth day he would like himself better and enjoy his new relationship to authority. On the seventh day I would fellowship with him in some activity that he enjoyed. On the eight day he would love me and would make a commitment to always please me because he valued my approval and fellowship. On the ninth day someone would comment that I had the most cheerful and obedient boy that they had ever seen. On the tenth day we would be the best of buddies."

Do I even need to point out the steps leading to "progress and harmony," and then to "Final confession and rebirth?"  Can there be any question that this method is brainwashing?

Now tell me, do you believe that Jesus and Chairman Mao drew from the same wells?  Or can you picture Jesus in a Viet Cong uniform?

Parent, if the change in your child is something you forced upon them, it has nothing to do with salvation!  The good works of true Christianity are described as "fruit," which grows naturally from our attachment to Christ as the "Vine."  A parent's job is to teach the truth, to provide reasonable discipline, to encourage, to model, to plead, to warn, to pray, and pray, and pray, and pray.

A parent's job is never to torture and brainwash.  Does that really need to be said?  Apparently it does.

If Jesus' way is the same one employed by communist torturers in the Korean or Vietnam wars, then what is unique about Christ?  How is He superior to an interrogator at the Hanoi Hilton?  How is He honored by the use of the same techniques we Americans so deplored when the enemy used them against our captured soldiers?

Is a child made righteous if he does good works in shackles and under the pain of the lash?  No?  Then how is he made righteous when he does good works under mental and emotional bondage and under the pain of the lash?  Either way, it's force and fear, not a transformed nature, which causes the child to comply.

Parents, there is a world of difference between a desire and a goal.  A goal is something we intend to make happen.  And we cannot make our children trust in Christ.  We cannot make them believe.  We can lead, we can pray, we can teach, we can instruct, we can give discipline, but we cannot force trust and faith.  If we try to do so, we push our children further away from God, no matter how much external conformity we may force to happen.

The World's Most Dangerous People

I don't do many posts on current events.  But one has caught my eye and my heart this week, and I feel I cannot remain silent about it. 

If you read many Christian blogs, you've probably already heard about 7 year-old Lydia Schatz.  She was being raised by what were, by all accounts, a very sweet, loving set of Christian parents.  And she was horrifically, torturously murdered by those parents.

In an effort to save her soul.

Let me say it again.  The parents who systematically, coolly beat that little girl to death were quite normal, well-liked people in the Christian and homeschooling circles where they lived their lives.  And their decision to beat the child the way they did was based on the teachings of a couple named Michael and Debi Pearl, who are apparently very popular in conservative Christian circles. 

How can this be?  How does it happen?  Because from what I'm reading, the Schatzes were no different from a whole lot of Conservative Christians.  And I say that as a conservative Christian homeschooler myself.

What happened?  Did they "snap," as many are describing it?

I don't think they did. 

I think they beat that child because they had come to believe that that's what love does.  Worse, they believed that that's what God wanted them to do.

A blogger called "Water Lilly" says it best (emphasis added by me):

The plumbing-supply-line whippings went on for several hours. To me, this would indicate that it is more likely that the parents were calm rather than angry. I’ve been angry with my children…but that anger burns hot and FAST… Anger and rage are exhausting, and they don’t last long...I want to suggest that only two types of people will beat their children for hours. The first type are sadists who enjoy hurting others…  The second type are parents who desperately care for their children and their eternal salvation. They believe that this world is but fleeting, and that their children’s eternal salvation is the most important parenting goal.

I know from reading a few more of her entries that "Water Lilly" cares as deeply about the salvation of her children as any godly parent does.  Indeed, any truly godly parent longs with all their hearts to see their children saved.  It's one of the most powerful instincts in a Christian parent's being.

Nothing is more powerful than love, and that power has worked tremendous good in the world.  It was because of love that God sent Jesus!  But when love gets twisted, perverted, confused and distorted, its power makes it incredibly dangerous.

I am coming to believe that there are no more dangerous people on the face of the earth than those who believe that love and God are on their side while they pursue an evil which they've mistaken for goodness.  How can they repent, when they believe they're holy warriors?

How does it happen?  How does a loving parent get convinced that beating their child for hours over a minor infraction is an act of love?  (In the case of the Schatzes, the "infraction" was mispronouncing a word!)

I can think of several key ingredients for this horrific stew:

• The parents are deeply religious in a legalistic way, not living as people saved by the grace of God.
• They see how the concept of grace has been abused, and they conclude that grace is nothing more than permissiveness.  They do not know what grace does, and they fear it is only a get out of jail free card.  So they reject it, and will not even consider anything other than punitive measures.
• They are terrified about their children's eternal destinies.
• They know that sin is the problem, but they believe in manmade solutions.
• They believe that they have the power to rescue their children from Hell, and that love requires them to use whatever force is necessary to save them from it.
• They do not know that salvation is a miraculous work of the Spirit which only God can accomplish.  They believe it their duty to force their children to accept Christianity, rather than leading them toward a real relationship with the only true Savior (who saves by grace).

There was a time in my life when all of the above described me.  You know the proverbial road to Hell that is paved with good intentions?  I was firmly on it, and was paving it further under my children's feet.  I thank God that I never heard of the Pearls before I was truly saved, because I would quite possibly have fallen for their schemes.

Listen to how it works.  One mother asked on the Pearls' website, "How do I deal with an angry child? When he doesn't get his way, when I fix a breakfast he's not fond of, he acts angry and blames me.  He often tells me that spankings only makes him angrier. What am I missing?" 

Here are excerpts from the Pearls' response:

"He is manipulating you…He controls his weak mother, but the world is not made up of weak mothers…I regularly go to a prison that has over 1200 men in it. Many of them were just like your son when they were his age...  Mother, I am trying to make you angry—not hurt, not guilty, and certainly not timid. The Devil is running away with your child. You can stop it. You can break the spell." (emphasis added)

(Note the appeal to fear…that would have hit me hard.  If I don't follow the Pearls' methods, my kid will end up in prison!  The devil is running away with him, and it's my fault! Note also the idea that the parent is the messiah, the savior, the answer.  And see…the answer is found in the parents' anger!  To the Pearls, the wrath of man does produce the righteousness of God.  I used to believe that, too.  Note also the insults and accusations heaped on this presumably "weak" mother.  It gets worse.)

Your son needs to run smack dab into a big, high, unmoving fence of authority. You, mother, are a pushover, a sucker…To give over to his demands, even once, is like a mother giving drugs or alcohol to her addicted child…Display indifference with dignity… Like an army Sargent [sic], state your will and accept nothing less…If you think it is appropriate and you spank him make sure that it is not a token spanking.  A proper spanking leaves children without breath to complain. (Emphasis added.)

(The Pearls often make statements against child abuse, and many people use those statements to try to absolve them. But the ugly truth of what they advocate can't be buried under the nicer words they sometimes publish. Their advice is rife with counsel that is abusive, no matter what they may say in other places. Lydia was not the first child to be murdered by a parent under their approach.)

So here is a mother who wants what is best for her children, and who knows that her children need to be made right with God somehow.  Along comes an "expert" with:

• a self-assured style,
• proud boastful assertions of what he himself could do to miraculously transform her child in a mere 10 days (further on in the same article),
• an arsenal of fear, guilt and insults which he sprays liberally at her, calling her a sucker and a drug pusher!
• tantalyzing promises that, if she only had the backbone to beat her child until he "had no breath to respond," and to be "indifferent" to him, she too could be her child's savior. 

As I said, there was a time in my life when I might have fallen for it.  I had never experienced the transforming work of the Spirit in my own life, so what did I know of what my children really needed?  I knew that sin was the problem, but I knew nothing of grace, so why wouldn't I have believed the lovely promises of all the beautiful results that would come if only I loved my kids enough to…(fill in the blank with any atrocity you like.)

Do you see how it happens?  Love can be convinced to do even unspeakable horrors if it believes it's acting in a child's best interests and in obedience to God.  Praise God I have not been an abusive parent, but reading even a small amount of the Pearls' advice left me speechless with gratitude that God kept their influence out of my life back when I might have been deceived by it. 

It could have happened.  It could have.  That's why, as horrified as I am by what the Schatzes did, I can't think myself superior.  It is God's truth which is superior.  His love and wisdom are pure and peaceful, gentle, reasonable, full of mercy… (Jas 3:17).  And while the wrath of man does not produce the righteousness of God (Jas 1:20), a harvest of righteousness is sown in peace by those who make peace (Jas 3:18).

People of God, live grace!  Teach grace!  Love grace!  And just as importantly, understand what grace truly is.  If people knew its transforming power, they would realize that the hope for their child comes from Christ, not a lash.

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Please do not use the "Comments" section to debate corporal punishment.  I'm not saying that it never has its place, within reason (though right now I'm not sure exactly what I believe about its place and its reason.)  But I do know that corporal punishment in and of itself never saved a soul, and trusting it to save is a deadly error and an idolatrous defection from the only One who saves.

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• in which I discuss the unthinkable (lauriemo.blogspot.com)

Quotables for 2/24/10

"A sermon 'zinger' used to encourage church plants instead of resuscitating old churches goes like this: 'It is easier to have a baby than to raise the dead!' Jesus, however, did only the latter. Evangelism is a bit more complicated than the sound bite conveys, simply because people are. Whether or not they are consciously aware of it, many non-Christians are seeking a deeper, ecclesial reality in their life, not a gospel that caters to their present one."

~ Matthew Milliner, "Attack of the Ugly Babies," Evangel

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“Never did the love of God reveal itself so clearly as when he laid down his life for his sheep, nor did the justice of God ever flame forth so conspicuously as when he would suffer in himself the curse for sin rather than sin should go unpunished, and the law should be dishonored. Every attribute of God was focused at the cross, and he that hath eyes to look through his tears, and see the wounds of Jesus, shall behold more of God there than a whole eternity of providence or an infinity of creation shall ever be able to reveal to him.”

~C.H. Spurgeon, quoted in Miscellanies.

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"If I were an unbeliever and I attended these [seeker-driven /purpose-driven] churches and listened to all their sermons week after week, how would I define the term "Christ Follower"?

Here's the answer I came up with after reviewing the sermons preached at these seeker-driven / purpose-driven churches over the last 24 months:

Christ Follower: Someone who has made the decision to be an emotionally well adjusted self-actualized risk taking leader who knows his purpose, lives a 'no regrets' life of significance, has overcome his fears, enjoys a healthy marriage with better than average sex, is an attentive parent, is celebrating recovery from all his hurts, habits and hang ups, practices Biblical stress relief techniques, is financially free from consumer debt, fosters emotionally healthy relationships with his peers, attends a weekly life group, volunteers regularly at church, tithes off the gross and has taken at least one humanitarian aid trip to a third world nation.

Based upon this summarized definition, I've come to the conclusion that the world is full of people who can fit this definition but who've never repented of their sins and trusted in Christ alone for the forgiveness of their sins."

Chris Rosebrough (read the rest here.)

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I have decided to limit postings of "Quotables" to one day per week, to avoid the risk of becoming simply a compiler of other people's work to the exclusion of my own.  I deeply appreciate my readers, and ask for your prayer as I continue to try to find and follow God's direction in how I spend the time He gives me.

Quotables for 2/19/10

"You may have stopped following Jesus, but now you want to follow again. When you stopped following Jesus, you did so on your terms. But the returning to Jesus is strictly under His conditions. He is God, and you are not. Are you willing to follow Jesus anywhere, at any time, under any condition? That is the only way you can follow Him."

~Blackaby, "Experiencing God Day by Day."

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(Regarding 1 John 3:22-23)

"Prayer has a specific purpose. God designed it in wisdom to fit his perfect way of working in the world. If you misuse it, it malfunctions. What then is the design of prayer? I think these verses show that prayer is designed by God to be the effect of faith and the cause of love.

Therefore if we try to pray when we really do not believe in the name of God’s Son, or if we try to pray when our aim is not love, prayer malfunctions.

'We receive from him whatever we ask, because we keep his commandments.'  This does not mean that keeping his commandments earns answers to prayer; it means prayer is designed to give power in the path of obedience. That is what it is for. Prayer is God’s way of making himself available for us when we are pouring ourselves out in love for others. Prayer is the power to love. Therefore if we do not aim to love, we pray in vain. Prayer is not designed to compound hoarded pleasures."

~John Piper in "A Godward Life" 

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"Drudgery is one of the finest tests to determine the genuineness of our character. Drudgery is work that is far removed from anything we think of as ideal work. It is the utterly hard, menial, tiresome, and dirty work. And when we experience it, our spirituality is instantly tested and we will know whether or not we are spiritually genuine. "

~Chambers, "My Utmost for His Highest."

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Thank you for letting me share with you a few of the things that touched my heart in this morning's devotions.  May the Lord bless you!

Quotables for 2/18/10

I am often blessed by what others say, and I frequently copy snippets into my Bible notes or Evernote for future enjoyment.  But I'm beginning to wonder if I ought to do more to share them.  So here is an eclectic mix of "quotables" that have caught my eye this week.  In each case where a link is provided, you'll find much more than what you read here.

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(The problem with the whole idea of "Love Languages.")

"You and I need to learn a new language if we are to become fit to live with each other and with God. The greatest love ever shown does not speak the instinctively self-centered language of the recipients of such love. In fundamental ways, the love of Christ speaks contrary to your 'love language' and 'felt needs.' Does anyone naturally say, 'I need You to rule me so I’m no longer ruled by what I want'? Does anyone naturally say, 'For Your name’s sake, O LORD, pardon my iniquity for it is great' (Psalm 25:11)? Does anyone naturally say, 'My greatest need is for mercy, and then for the wisdom to give mercy. I long for redemption. May Your kingdom come. Deliver us from evil'?"

~David Powlison, "Love Speaks Many Languages Fluently."  Quoted by Justin Taylor in the blog, "First Things."  Brought to my attention by Tim Challies.  (Isn't it wonderful how the internet brings together so many people who will probably never meet this side of Heaven?)

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(Regarding John 3:5)

"[Jesus] employed the words Spirit and water to mean the same thing, and this ought not to be regarded as a harsh or forced interpretation; for it is a frequent and common way of speaking in Scripture, when the Spirit is mentioned, to add the word Water or Fire, expressing his power. We sometimes meet with the statement, that it is Christ who baptizeth with the Holy Ghost and with fire, (Mat 3:11; Luke 3:16,) where fire means nothing different from the Spirit, but only shows what is his efficacy in us."

~John Calvin, quoted by David at The Thirsty Theologian.

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(Regarding the men who let their friend down through the roof to be healed in Mark 2:4):

"There is no hint that they ever asked permission before they began digging through that roof. There are people who would not smash a roof, though by doing it they might save a thousand souls. To them property is sacred. But to these comrades the sacred thing was life, and they were willing to destroy a hundred roofs if so doing they could save a brother. That is the spirit we want within the Church, the spirit that sees the worth of personality; the spirit ready, for the Master's sake, to break through everything that keeps us snug and comfortable. After all, it is only a matter of values, and whenever we see the value of one soul, then many an old roof will have to go, no matter what Peter's wife may think about it."

~G.H. Morrison, in the electronic collection of devotionals made available with the eSword Electronic Bible.

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I hope you enjoyed these "quotables."  If people benefit by them, I'll probably do more of this kind of thing in the future, when I am still awaiting the time or inspiration to write something myself…

 

Wearied by Sacrifice

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My Bible reading schedule has me in Leviticus right now.  If you know the Bible, you know what that means.  I'm reading regulation after regulation regarding the various types of sacrifices for the various types of sins.

I often find it to be rather tiresome going.

Haven't you ever thought about it…how quickly you would have gotten sick of hauling animals to be slaughtered, toting flour cakes and drink offerings and you-name-it to the Temple, every time you sinned?  I never would have gotten anything else done!

As those sorts of thoughts flitted through my head this morning, the Spirit whispered a bit of perspective.

Are you saying you're glad that it's easier to get away with sinning as a Christian?

Oof.  That hit like a punch in the gut.  It's amazing how a still, small Voice, speaking gently, can pack such a wallop.

I had to step back and examine my whole perspective.  And the first thing that came to mind was just exactly how God felt about those who were wearied by sacrifice:

Oh that there were one among you who would shut the doors, that you might not kindle fire on my altar in vain! I have no pleasure in you, says the LORD of hosts, and I will not accept an offering from your hand… You say, 'What a weariness this is,' and you snort at it, says the LORD of hosts…Shall I accept that from your hand? (Excerpted from Mal 1:10-13)

Every other time I've ever read that passage over the years, I've felt sympathy with those who complained about the 'nuisance' of the sacrifices.  But subconsciously I was saying that, if I had lived in those days, I would have wished I could just sin freely and get away with it!  I mean, come on, God!  Get over it!  Why do You have to make such a big deal about it? I might not have had the guts to put it in those words, but that's what I was feeling.  The sacrifices were a total drag.

But that attitude toward the Old Testament sacrifices supports one of the heresies I most despise in modern Christendom…the idea that Jesus' sacrificial death on our behalves accomplished "carefree sinning" for us. 

It's true that Jesus was the Final, Perfect Sacrifice, and that we no longer bring offerings to any Temple for the forgiveness of our sins.  And praise God for that!  But the way we look at that fact reveals a lot about our hearts.

Are we "sin-centered" or "God-centered?"

A sin-centered person in Old Testament times would have resented the sacrifices.  A sin-centered person in the age of Grace is thankful for Christ's sacrifice…but not for the right reasons.  Such a person is thankful because they believe they've gotten a "Get out of jail free" card. 

The sin-centered person in the Old Testament may have brought sacrifices, but God did not receive them from his hand.  They did him no good.  And a sin-centered person in the age of Grace cannot hope to invoke the holy name of Jesus as an excuse to freely wallow in the very slime that Jesus died to save them from.

Think about this…the "blood money" that Judas got for betraying Jesus was so unholy that the Chief Priests wouldn't accept it into the Temple Treasury (Matt 27:6-7), even though they were the ones who had originally paid Judas that money in the first place (Matt 26:14-15).  They recognized that the money was dirty because it had paid for a grievous sin to be committed.

Those who view Jesus' blood as their "ticket to sin" are in essence calling His blood "dirty money" which pays for sin…not for salvation from it, but for the free continuation of it!  They are calling His blood an unholy thing, unfit for use in any sacred context.  Surely it is for such people that Heb 10:29 was written!

A God-centered person in the Old Testament would have loved coming to the Temple with their sacrifices.  Why?  Because they loved the fact that they could be restored to fellowship with their God, the source of their joy (Ps 43:4)!  For them, their own sinfulness was the "nuisance," and the sacrifices were a blessed way to be renewed in their fellowship with the God they loved. 

For the God-centered person of the New Testament, Jesus' sacrifice is a never-ending wonder.  They cannot fully comprehend why God would have given them the forgiveness and cleansing they need to freely return to fellowship with Himself, to righteousness, and to godliness (not to sinning)!

The lover of God, who comes to Him through Christ alone, has nothing to fear from Heb 10:29 when he sins.  Such a person hates that he has broken fellowship, and can rejoice that the precious blood of Christ has bought his forgiveness and cleansing and restoration to fellowship.  He does not profane that blood, or insult the Spirit of Grace.  He sinned, and it was horrible of him, and he does not take it lightly.  But he sees Christ as his Savior from sin, not as his sin-enabler.  And that makes all the difference.

The lover of sin, who comes to Satan's altar with the blood of Christ on his hands as his "escape clause," is the one who needs to tremble at this verse.  Oh adulterer, what is His blood to you, that you should think to pour it out on the filthy shrines of His sworn enemy; that you should raise your chalice of sin along with all the fiends of Hell to toast His grace with mocking lips?  Do you sing "Amazing Grace, How Sweet the Sound" at your orgies of wicked indulgence?

What is His blood to you?  What is the Holy Sacrifice?  Is it really there just to remove the "nuisance" of Temple sacrifices and make sinning easier for you?  If you had lived under the Law, would you have scorned the way of atonement that God made, or would you have rejoiced that He should have made any way back into His sweet presence at all?

Are you sin-centered, or God-centered?

Which am I?

Examine yourselves, to see whether you are in the faith. Test yourselves. Or do you not realize this about yourselves, that Jesus Christ is in you? —unless indeed you fail to meet the test! (2 Co 13:5)

 

I Am From…

I am from Florida's sweaty air, from the close quarters of a small home, from one bathroom shared by five people, from wide-mouthed Jalousie windows which gasped for breath just like we did in the endless, merciless summers.

I am from the lake behind my house, the mud squishing between my toes, the wooden-handled net swooshing down to snag wily turtles, the creak of oars in oarlocks.

I am from bare feet wincing and mincing their way across scalding roads and sandspur-choked lawns; from hours of play with Breyer model horses (who needs other kids?); from curtains flapping in moonlight as mallards murmured and crickets chirped me to sleep.

I am from a 90-minute drive to Disney World, and knowing better than to even ask if we could ever afford to go there.

I am from family gatherings at Nana's little house, from the old folding stepstool-seat that boosted generations of children to her table; from Uncle Roger's hearty belly-laugh; from Nana and Mom whose humor gave release to happy tears…tears which provided cover for the heartbroken ones we would have otherwise kept inside.

I am from Nana's Bible full of tiny handwritten notes; from learning to sing alto beside her in the choir while Mom sang soprano behind us; from wounded and struggling women who led and fed their family's souls the best they could, because the men would not.

I'm from pizza for Christmas Dinner; from Nana's "Man Pleaser" Casserole, from "Tang" and "Space Food Sticks" made popular in the years when Neil Armstrong's boot print still pressed deeply into America's spirit.

I'm from longed-for day trips to the Moncks' farm, from tomboy-wanderings among Live Oaks which dripped with Spanish Moss; from putting a quarter between my middle and ring fingers so I could learn to make the Vulcan salute.

I am from bitter squabbles with older siblings whose adult love and loyalty I did not foresee; from hidden hurts we could not help each other through until we grew up and realized the others felt them, too; from agonies that brought us to our knees to find, when we arose, that God sometimes hugs us through the very ones we used to fight with over breakfast cereal.

The ones whose faces stare at us in the black-and-white photos of the places from which we've come.

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I wrote this little piece in response to a post called, "Autobiography: Template for 'I Am From…'" If you would like to participate or just see her similarly-written work, pop on over there!

Sharing in the Father's Love

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I made known to them your name, and I will continue to make it known, that the love with which you have loved me may be in them, and I in them.” Jesus, John 17:26

Jesus wanted us to know the very love that God the Father had for Him. Not to know it academically, as if we should all sit back and say, "Oh, I see, God loves Jesus this much."

No, Jesus wants that love to be "in us." He wants us to feel it in our bones, our hearts, our souls. He wants it to so fill us that it controls our every thought and action, just as it did Christ's.

Jesus described it simply as, "The love with which You (the Father) have loved Me (the Son)."

Is this a warm-fuzzy kind of love? The kind that sends us off to a life of ease and prosperity?

Where did the Father's love send Jesus?

You see, Calvary wasn't just about loving us, though of course that's huge. But even through the scourgings, the mockings, the nails, the agonies of heart and soul, the bitter taste of death…even through all of these, the Father was loving the Son. And the Father did not love as a helpless onlooker, the way the women looked on at the foot of the cross (Mark 15:40).

God sent Jesus there. In love. God wielded the whip through human hands. God drove the nails. God left Him feeling forsaken. In love. In love. In love.

It pleased the Lord to bruise Him. (Isa 53:10 KJV)

What kind of love is that?

Do we really want to share in it?

Jesus wants us to! He said so when He prayed in the Upper Room, immediately before walking His disciples to Gethsemane where their nightmare, and His, would begin in earnest. And in that same prayer He talked more about His desire for us:

…that they may have my joy fulfilled in themselves. (John 17:13)

Joy? Can that possibly be compatible with the kind of love that sent Jesus to Calvary?

For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. (Matthew 16:25)

Somehow, when we lose our life, we find it…and in finding it, we finally find our joy.

And where will we find our life?

For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life appears, then you also will appear with him in glory. (Col 3:3-4)

Somehow, in a way that boggles our fleshly minds, our greatest joy comes from experiencing God's love just as the Son experienced it…even on Calvary's road. Not by experiencing things which parallel Christ's experiences, but by experiencing Christ on that road…and through Him, experiencing the Father.

…that the love with which you have loved me may be in them, and I in them.” John 17:26

So how was the Father's love expressed to the Son throughout His life and agony and death? And how do we experience it?

Any thoughts?

Confessions of A Not-So-Renewed Mind

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I had a lousy attitude on Saturday.

I'll spare you the details.  They aren't pretty.

At one point my children were off on a whining binge about some tragic problem like "not being able to play the exact computer game they wanted to play at the exact moment that they wanted to play it," and I launched into one of my usual "mom sermonettes."  You know the kind, I'm sure.

After a while it occurred to me that I should have listened to myself.  After all, I'm almost(?) always guilty of the same sins that bug me in my kids.  So I began to tell myself some facts that I thought I needed to hear, so that I would be more grateful for what I have.

My voice, preaching to myself in my head.  Who was missing there?

I'm good at "preaching," teaching, writing, lecturing, making points.  But am I the main one I need to be listening to?

How well do I listen to God?  Am I drowning Him out with my own sermonizing?

What's the difference?  If I'm teaching God's word or a truth extrapolated from it, shouldn't I be listening to myself?

My heart balks, because I know the difference. 

You see, I'm very accustomed to the sound of my own voice.  It doesn't impress me, as of course it shouldn't.  There isn't as soul on this planet who should (or does) tremble at "thus saith Betsy."

So when I preach to myself, it tends to be an intellectual exercise which I listen to with a "take-it-or-leave-it" attitude.

Even if what I'm telling myself comes straight from the Word of God, my voice in my head makes it sound like my own thoughts, with the same impact as, "I ought to go change the laundry loads."  It's a good idea, and I'll get around to it, but there's no urgency.

No authority.

Even if I'm deeply impressed by some truth that's struck me, I tend to be more delighted by its genius, more intellectually satisfied by having found a lost puzzle piece, than I am to bow and humbly, wholeheartedly submit.

I've forgotten, "Thus saith the Lord."  The Master.  The King.

I claim Him as my Lord, my Master, my King, and by His incredible grace, that's what He is.  But how seriously do I really take Him?

Rom 12:2 tells us to be transformed by the renewing of our minds.  I've often heard people explain this verse by saying we should control what we think about, as we're instructed in Php 4:8.  And of course that's part of it, a very important part.  But is that all there is?

 Can any mind be called "renewed" which has not bent all of its powers toward obedience?  Does God grant us understanding so we can admire our collection of "truth nuggets" on a shelf?

Who on this planet ever knew more, ever had a more brilliant mind than Jesus Christ, the Creator of all things? 

Who was ever more perfectly obedient?

This kind of thinking scares me to death.  Intellectual pursuits feel so much safer and more comfortable than bent-knee obedience.  One feels powerful.  The other is humbly dependent.

My flesh wants to believe that an un-renewed mind is safer than a renewed one.  Boy, do I want to believe it.

But everything depends on my not believing it.  And that's terrifying.

Whether I like it or not, the fact is that I don't need to preach to myself, convince myself, or lecture myself.

I need to listen to the Holy One with an eager mind that believes, "Whatever He says is right, perfect, and just.  I will obey, no matter what." 

Pray for me.

Lost in the Packaging

"God can pour on the blessings in astonishing ways."
~ 2 Corinthians 9:9 (MSG)

When Deborah Shank asked us to comment on this paraphrased verse for the "In Other Words" writing meme, I didn't get any immediate inspiration.  But then I read from my daily devotional schedule (this was yesterday), and came across this account:

Then they brought to Him a paralytic lying on a bed. When Jesus saw their faith, He said to the paralytic, "Son, be of good cheer; your sins are forgiven you." And at once some of the scribes said within themselves, "This Man blasphemes!" But Jesus, knowing their thoughts, said, "Why do you think evil in your hearts? For which is easier, to say, 'Your sins are forgiven you,' or to say, 'Arise and walk'? But that you may know that the Son of Man has power on earth to forgive sins"—then He said to the paralytic, "Arise, take up your bed, and go to your house." And he arose and departed to his house.

(Mat 9:2-7)

Yesterday I wrote a short story called, "The Gilded Box" which was inspired by that account.  (Haven't read it yet?  Please do, and then come back here.  If you don't read it, you'll miss some of what I'm saying below.)

Ok, in case you're wondering, there really is a connection tying "The Gilded Box" with both of the quotes above.  Having trouble finding it?  Read on.

What's one of the "astonishing ways" that God pours out His blessings?  The one that comes to my mind today is, "The packaging they come in."

Sometimes His blessings come in ugly packages.  Oysters house pearls.  Prison cells echo with joyous hymns.  A feed trough nestles a savior. 

The more we grow in Christ, the more we find that ugliness reminds us to look for Him.

But what do we do with the lovely packages He gives us?  Do we become so distracted by their beauty that we never look inside?

Green lights when we're running late.  Safe flights.  Uncomplicated births.  Cancer miraculously gone.  Lame legs which leap up and run.

Should we thank Him for each blessing?  Of course! 

But do we remember to open up each gilded box and look at what's inside?

Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead…but some time later, he died again.  So did everyone else that Jesus ever healed.  How many of them ever opened the treasure they'd received…ever found the message inside the golden miracle?

But that you may know that the Son of Man has power on earth to forgive sins"—then He said to the paralytic, "Arise, take up your bed, and go to your house."

The note inside the box…the meaning in the miracle is simply this:  Jesus has the power to forgive sins.  The miracles and blessings you can see point with unwavering fingers to the miracle you cannot see, and they offer assurance.

He who opened your eyes, He who softened your hard heart, He who healed your disease, He who created the beauty all around you…He also has the power to forgive sins.  And because of the cleansing He provides, He can also give you an offer of marriage…the chance to be joined with him in engagement throughout this life, and in perpetual bliss throughout the only real Happily Ever After.

How many receive His gifts of common grace without ever looking inside the pretty packages for the offer of lifelong relationship hidden within?  How tragic for them!

How many of us who already know Him still forget the greatest gift of all…His forgiveness and eternal love…because we're distracted by the pretty packaging of His earthly blessings?

Jesus forgives sins and offers His love to us forever!

When was the last time you felt astonished by that?

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This week's "In Other Words" is hosted by Deborah Shank at Chocolate and Coffee.  Drop by there to find links to other entries on the assigned quotation, or to add a link to your own!

 

The Gilded Box

I don't often write fiction to post here, but something struck me today in my Bible reading, and it made a story come to mind. Please indulge me by reading this quickly-penned little narrative and, if you like, you can speculate in the comment section about why I might have written it. Tomorrow I'll post an entry that will unpack the point of the story in my usual devotional format.

The Gilded Box

Amelia sat on the hard, wooden pew, trying to pretend she cared about the minister's droning words. The sun shone hot through her window, a fly buzzed past her ear, and Mr. Thorpe snored annoyingly a few rows over.

But none of that bothered her as much as what she saw across the aisle.

Prissy Waldrop was sitting beside him. Beside Charles Westfield, the handsomest young man in all of Kansas territory. The man Amelia would have given anything to sit beside.

Not that she ever would have admitted it.

He keeps glancing my way. I wonder why? Amelia kept her own nose pointed straight towards the minister, and occasionally nodded a little to keep up an appearance of attentiveness. But her eyes strained themselves rightward, keeping Charles the Desirable and Prissy the Interloper in sight.

How dare she?

Charles glanced at her again, and Amelia quickly turned her eyes away. Mustn't let him see me looking! She kept her spine ramrod stiff. He must know I'm too good for him…or at least, he must think I am, if he's ever to covet me as his own.

The pastor finally made his last point, whatever that might have been, and the congregation dutifully stood to sing the closing hymn. Amelia didn't need to look at the hymnal to join in, which was a good thing, since her eyes had a far more interesting subject to stare at.

If Prissy tries to keep him all to herself at the picnic, I will be scandalized, simply scandalized! And I'll make sure she knows it, too!

The church picnic featured plenty of delicious food, but it might as well have been platefuls of Kansas dirt for all the enjoyment Amelia got out of it. Charles and Prissy sat together for the whole event.

But she must have noticed how often Charles looked towards me. Amelia had at least that one consolation.

"Time to go, Amelia." Her father extended a hand to help her up from the blanket.

She smiled and accepted the help, but inwardly she fretted. I'm seventeen years old. How much longer am I going to have only Father to extend a hand to me? When will Charles come to his senses and realize he should be helping me up instead?

She made certain never to let Charles see her interest, so she did not look back as she walked to the wagon. But as soon as she had seated herself, she heard the last thing she expected to hear.

"Amelia?"

She turned to see Charles just a few steps from the wagon. For a moment she almost smiled, but she thought better of it. He doesn't deserve me, and he needs to know it.

"Amelia, there's something I need to give you." Charles fished something out of his pocket, while glancing around as if afraid someone would see.

Amelia tried not to be too obvious about scanning the area for signs of her rival. I don't see her anywhere…

Excitement and triumph threatened to erase her carefully cultivated composure, so she reminded herself that, whatever Charles might want to give her, it would probably be less than she deserved.

She reached a gloved hand to receive the gift, making sure her "Thank you" sounded properly distant.

Charles turned without another word and walked away.

Amelia didn't even look at what she held until they had rounded a corner out of sight of the church yard.

The gift lay in a little velvet bag with a cinch-top. She opened it and withdrew a small gilded box, intricate in detail.

Her gasp made her father turn. "What do you have there, dear?"

"Why…it's a gift from Charles Westfield. A lovely keepsake box…quite exquisite. I wouldn't have expected him to have such refined taste."

"Well, isn't that nice?"

Amelia could not stop staring at the box. It spoke to her of the young man's esteem in ever more pleasing ways. He does realize how much I deserve, doesn't he?

As soon as she got home, she removed an heirloom knickknack from her favorite display shelf and put Charles' box in its place. By this time, it fairly shouted to her of his love.

Now all I must do is await his proposal. She planned out all the details…how surprised she would pretend to be when he came to call, how long she would keep him in agony before accepting, and how her demeanor should emphasize how very fortunate he was that she had done so.

He did not call later that day, nor even later that week. The next Sunday Amelia wore her best dress in anticipation of his proposal, but Charles did nothing more than favor her with an unusual number of glances during the sermon. She made sure he never knew she noticed.

On Tuesday next, her friend Emily Harrier arrived at Amelia's house with something less than acceptable formality.

"Amelia, Amelia, have you heard?" The girl nearly shouted her question as soon as she entered the house.

"Heard? Heard what?"

"Why…heard about Charles and Prissy, of course! He has asked for her hand, and she has accepted it!"

Amelia managed to maintain her dignity until she could be alone at last to sob out her grief. How could they? How could they?

The gilded box went into another, much plainer box, tucked away in a drawer…too painful to look at, but too precious to throw away. It remained in that drawer while Amelia pined at Charles' wedding. It rested while she stewed over the gossip about the Westfields' beautiful home in St. Louis. It reposed while she resigned herself to spinsterhood. Untouched, it languished as she did through the years that saw her bury her father beside her mother; the years that faded her beauty, grayed her hair, knotted her joints and bent her spine.

She never spoke of it, or of him. Not until the day her friends and neighbors began to gather by her bedside, and their hushed conversations with the doctor told her what their private words must have said.

Even then, she waited until only her old friend Emily stood beside her.

"Emily, go into that drawer there…do you see the box in the back corner?"

"Yes dear, I see it."

"Open it up and let me see what's inside it. I haven't seen it for so long…"

Emily opened the wooden box and gasped. "Why…it's beautiful! Whatever made you hide it away like this?"

"Let me see it." Amelia reached out a trembling hand and took it. Sixty years seemed to fall away when she felt it in her hand again. "Oh, it really is beautiful, isn't it?"

"What's in it, dear?" Emily's voice brought Amelia back to the present.

"Oh, nothing. I never used it. I just…well…it's just a decorative box.

Emily took it gently from her hands and lifted the lid. "Why…there's a note inside it!"

"What?" Amelia's surprise gave her the strength to raise herself up off the bed a little bit.

"It's very faded…shall I read it to you?" Emily unfolded it in anticipation of the answer.

"Yes…by all means do." Amelia felt dread rising up from somewhere deep inside of her, and the weight of it made her sink back onto her pillow.

"It says, 'My dearest Amelia, I think you must know by now of my great affection for you, though I fear that you do not return it. But as the poet says, 'Hope Springs Eternal,' and I feel I must declare my devotion and hear your reply at once. If you would do me the honor of giving me your hand in marriage, please give me some sort of sign at church on Sunday. A single smile from you will be enough to keep hope alive. If you will not have me, please keep the box as an eternal token of my love. If you refuse me, please know that I shall not trouble you further with my unwanted affections, and will ask the hand of another, though she will always be second to you in my heart. Ardently, Charles Westfield.'"

Amelia could only stare, wide-eyed at the ceiling.

"Why, Amelia…I never knew Charles had such feelings for you…oh dear, you're so pale…I should get the doctor."

Amelia scarcely noticed her friend's hasty departure. All she could do was whisper, over and over again.

"I never opened the box. I never opened the box."

Receiving and Perceiving

“How we respond to difficulties will determine whether we are a winner or a whiner. One of Satan’s first temptations when our life appears to be on hold like Joseph is to tempt us to live by feelings instead of faith.”
~ Michael Yousse

 

I didn't sleep well again last night.

They tell me that it's normal to start having more insomnia at mid-life.  So maybe I've got a "new normal" to adjust to.

How well will I do that?

If you've hung around this blog long enough, you know that I have a cynical side to my nature.  It's not something I'm proud to admit, but it's definitely there.  One of the ways I tend to show it is by rejecting hope.  Another way is by rejecting happiness.

Sin makes us into such fools, doesn't it?

I am quick to despise whining and resentfulness and ingratitude in others, but tend to cling to those attributes in myself.  Why?

Because true happiness requires humility, at least when life hurts.  So the opposite feelings, resentfulness and ingratitude, spring from pride.  And pride magnifies me in my own eyes while denigrating others.

Picture it this way.  If I make a run-of-the-mill tuna casserole and bring it as a surprise to a beggar on the street, and serve it to him on my own worn and faded dishes, he's likely to be overwhelmed with gratitude and very happy (even if he's not overly fond of tuna).  If I do the same thing for a king, he's going to wonder who in the world I am, who I think I am, what gives me the right to approach him, whether or not I've poisoned the food, and how I could possibly think he in all his majesty would want my casserole on my less-than-royal dishes.

We receive as we perceive.  We are grateful in accordance with what we feel we deserve, compared to what was actually given.

When I have a whiny, resentful attitude toward the hardships in my life, I am telling God that I deserve better.  I am prideful.  I am the personification of Royalty Insulted.

When I gratefully receive what He gives, even when it doesn't look appealing, I am acknowledging to Him that I am a beggar, deserving no royal treatment whatsoever.  And that hurts.

Part of me screams, "I am not a doormat!  If I receive this gratefully, I'll never receive anything better than this!  If I let Him know how displeased I am, maybe He'll do better next time!"

Ouch.

Not only am I prideful, but I'm insulting to Almighty God.  I'm saying I know better than He does what I deserve, and that His gifts are substandard!

No wonder God takes grumbling and complaining and ingratitude so seriously (Deut 28:47-48, Job 40:8, Ps 106:25-26, Php 2:14-15)!

Is the Lord really a miser, giving only the bare minimum, waiting for any excuse to shirk on His generosity, and basing His giving on my willingness to be pleased?

Look at Calvary, Betsy, look at the promises of Heaven, and ask that question again.

Shame on me, oh shame on me!

Lord, please forgive my pride and my insulting attitude of ingratitude.  Thank You that You work all things (including insomnia, the challenges of special needs kids, chronic pain, etc) for my good as I receive them lovingly according to Your purposes (Rom 8:28) .  Help me to trust You that You make no mistakes, that You are generous beyond my wildest dreams, and that Your plans for me are better than I can ever imagine (1 Co 2:9).

If the converted thief on the cross can humbly receive his lot without charging God with wrong (Luke 23:41), if Job can bless the Lord through devastating loss (Job 1:21-22), if Jesus could entrust Himself to the Father in the midst of the most undeserved suffering that history has ever seen (1 Pet 2:23) , then who am I to grumble at life's hardships?

And yet, didn't I just grouse two seconds ago about my computer mouse not cooperating with me, as I'm writing this very post?  Don't I feel impatient with my son who is dawdling upstairs?

Of all the things I need to be grateful for this morning, I think God's patience, forgiveness, and continued work on my behalf (despite my thick-headedness) should be at the top of the list.

Thank you, generous Lord, from one very undeserving beggar!

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Today's quote was provided by Karen at In Love W.I.T.H. Jesus, for this week's "In Other Words" writing meme.  Please drop by her site for links to more entries dealing with this quote.

The sketch is an adaptation of a photograph by Donald Macleod.  I can usually link the artwork directly to the source, but when I use Fotosketcher to adapt the photos, it somehow prevents direct linking, so I must include the credit here.