Will you Join Me on a Journey?

Last week I talked about an assignment a counselor friend gave me to become an expert at finding God at work in my and others lives. Becoming an expert at anything requires hard work. Consider someone who you would describe as an expert. Do you think they were born that way? Even if they had some genetic advantage, hard work and intentionality were surely a part of the process of their skill or expertise.

When I was nine years old a little boy was born in Brooklyn and later moved to North Carolina. As a high school sophomore he was cut from the basketball team but later went on to become the NCAA Freshman Player of the Year in 1983 at the University of North Carolina. He left UNC after his junior year to join the NBA where he was honored as Rookie of the Year, was drafted third and went on to win six National Championships for the Chicago Bulls. Perhaps you’re one of the blessed fans like me who was privileged to watch Michael Jordan score and soar and steal balls on the court.

“Air Jordan” was obviously gifted. But Tim Grover, the trainer who worked most with him, said he was the hardest working guy he had ever seen and that “he practiced extremely hard which made the game easy for him.”

I’m learning that become skilled at seeing God at work also requires focus, devotion and practice. Apart from God’s help my tendency would be to see the glass half empty rather than half full, which means I’m better at seeing areas of lack than evidences of God’s work. And what’s interesting is this: to acknowledge God at work in my life has felt in the past like prideful boasting. How many times have you heard someone talk about themselves in a positive way and not feel a little uneasy? After all, we Christians are supposed to be humble and not draw attention to ourselves, right?

Right!

But what if admitting areas of growth in our lives is not drawing attention to us but to God? If God is the One who does the work, then why shouldn’t He get the glory?

The fine line between arrogant boasting and honoring God can be confusing. It doesn’t have to be! If I am taking the credit for personal growth then the honor should rightly go to me and boasting is the natural result. But if I am fully aware that God’s sanctifying grace is responsible for the changes in my heart and life then why is it wrong to boast in Him?

Okay, here I go. Tell me if this sounds like boasting.

My earliest memories of caring about others are from first grade. A friend was hit by a car while walking to school. Both legs and her pelvis were broken and she was in a cast from her waist down. I remember visiting her, taking her flowers and sitting with her to “help” her with homework. Our teacher was a lovely woman I remember fondly but I learned that she didn’t go to church. I vividly remember a picture I drew for her of my little church. Across the bottom it said, “Please come to Greenbelt Baptist Church. God loves you.” Mom reminded me of times I prayed for Mrs. Fink and my friend Pamela over dinner regularly, asking Jesus to heal Pamela and save my teacher.

When people tell me that they feel loved and cared for by me I know what they’re experiencing is the love of God working in and through me. I’m not tempted to take credit for this myself because I didn’t choose to be this way. I was made this way. Mom used to say, “Sheree, you came out of my womb loving others.”

That may be true. But I was also born with other things that came easy. My struggles with laziness, self-protection, jealousy, discontentment and self-righteousness are ones I still battle and have certainly threatened my ability to love others. Yet I’ve recently came to see that God made me with a capacity to love and care for others that is a demonstration of His work in my heart. It would be the height of arrogance for someone as selfish as I can be to pat myself on the back for loving anyone!

This God-given capacity is something for which I can thank Him. In the past I have tended to inordinately focus on the “threats” rather than on His signature on my life. While I want to continue to learn how weaknesses, wrong thinking and sin hinder my ability to love others, I also want to avoid robbing God of His glory for leaving His signature on my life in ways that honor Him.

Are there qualities, giftings or characteristics in your life that are also evidences of His work and grace? Absolutely! If you are a believer His signature has been left on you as God’s image bearer. I have a couple of questions for you:

• Are you uncomfortable talking about areas God has gifted you because you or others would assume you’re boasting?
• Are you aware of things God is changing about you? Ways you are making progress in becoming more like Christ? If not, it’s not because that’s not happening.  He has promised that He is working in you and will complete that work! (See Philippians 1:6)
• Of which are you most aware: the areas God is at work in you or ways you still struggle with weak or sinful patterns?

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I invite you to join me in becoming an expert at what God is doing and I’m asking you to begin with you first.  Why not take a few minutes soon to look back over the past couple of years and make a list of the ways God has been working in your heart. Are you more patient with the kids or less selfish with your time? Do you use your money more wisely or find more joy in blessing others? Do you less frequently deal with self-pity or enjoy more consistency in your devotional times with the Lord? Wow. The list could go on of potential areas in which God has been busy in your life!

I still love watching clips of MJ on the basketball court. His natural ability and hard work resulted in some stunning results. Imagine how much more joy YOU bring to God when you operate in the gifts He’s given you as He sees the fruit of your Spirit-born efforts to grow in Christlikeness.

It’s not boastful to put His grace on display. So make your list and start becoming an expert at seeing Him at work in you.

Loving the Light

Last night a group of ladies gathered at my home for a second book study meeting. I love preparing my heart and home for most any reason that involves a crowd — but knowing they were coming made my prep especially enjoyable. Our first meeting was characterized by rich fellowship, even though a few of us were meeting one another for the first time. I was anticipating another sweet time together.

I wasn’t disappointed.

As the room filled my heart warmed at the diversity in the group. There was a college aged cutie; several single adults; married women without kids; a first-time expectant mom about to deliver any day; two moms with little ones in their laps; a middle-aged wife with no children; and a couple of Granma’s like me. In a culture where segregating people by age or season of life is common and often preferred, I’m grateful that having a new little church means everything we do is necessarily…together.

My friend, Ariel, took this pic at our meeting last night. I love these women!

After our first meeting two weeks ago one of the gals contacted me to ask if she could share her testimony at the next meeting. The warmth and safety she experienced at the first meeting as she listened to ladies open up about their struggles, coupled with beginning to read the book we are studying together, was opening her heart to some painful things in her life. The Lord stirred her to write down her thoughts and she felt compelled to share her musings with the group.

I was deeply affected by this desire. Why would a young woman who had met most of those in the room at our meeting for the first time want to open up painful, tender things about her life? God was clearly at work in ways I couldn’t and didn’t need to understand.

I opened the meeting last night with the plan: we would share how we were being affected by the book, pray for one another, and then hear a testimony of one of the ladies in the group. After I finished, my new friend sheepishly said, “Sheree, I’m not sure if I can do this. I just don’t know….I want to. But I don’t know if I can.”

I assured her she didn’t have to share and that just knowing she was willing to was a wonderful demonstration of God’s grace in her life. If she decided not to open up such tender parts of her life, that was completely fine.

However, as the meeting winded down she said, “No. I want to do this. I need to do this.”

The rest of our meeting was filled with holy moments. The vulnerability and humility we all witnessed was compelling. As she read her words through tears, many of us cried along with her. The pain, shame and suffering she described touched areas in our own hearts. All of us could relate to her story in some way. We all know what it’s like to fail and to be hurt by others. She was in the company of fellow broken, weak and flawed women.

And when she was done something wonderful happened. Woman after woman thanked and commended her. The risk she took to share her life with us was met with compassion and care. The gospel was on display and we were all honored to have been entrusted with such a precious gift: the gift of disclosure that wasn’t treated as exposure. (A wonderful distinction I’ve learned from friends at the Christian Counseling and Education Foundation.)

Her testimony ended with a recognition that the painful things through which she has walked, even those that were the consequences of sinful choices she made along the way, have all been used by a faithful God for good in her life. She even said that she isn’t afraid of future hardships and suffering because of all God has done through the dark times in her life.

Yes, we were on holy ground.

Do you have someone with whom you can share your story? We are all like my friend who opened her heart last night: people who have sinned, been sinned against (sometimes in vile ways) and who live in a fallen world with the resulting consequences of pain, shame, disappointment and discouragement. When we keep our “secrets” in the dark, they grow and often haunt us. When we, however, find a safe person or people to whom we can disclosure things hidden or tucked away, the light dispels the darkness and we see with new eyes.

Choosing the “right” person or people is really important. At times I have unwisely opened my heart and life to people because it felt like the right thing to do and ended up regretting my decision when their responses made me realize I spoke prematurely. Gratefully, though, God has put a few people in my life to whom I can pour out the good, bad and ugly of my past and present struggles.

The light can be a little blinding at times. We all know the feeling of needing to allow our eyes to adjust when we leave a dark room. But the warmth and clarity that only the light can bring are needed and welcomed when God provides a safe and caring place to be honest.

I’m glad my new friend found that place. And I’m glad I was there on a front row seat watching God’s amazing work in her life.

I love the light.

i.miss.them.

Yesterday I spent part of my day at a Monday homeschool support program my daughter Jaime started last year, enjoyed by a few dozen children and some spunky mom/teachers. I walked up to the building to a greeting of a voice I recognized as my friend, Vicki, who waved from the playground where she was supervising a couple of kids. Inside, I walked by classrooms of giggling children, a teacher reminding students to stop chatting and pay attention, and a child asking how big a stomach is.

I observed my daughter Janelle’s writing and history classes in preparation for being her substitute teacher when little Silas is born in a couple of weeks; watched moms pull toddlers onto their lap to help them with lunch; observed a pregnant mother rubbing her expanding belly; was introduced to a delightful single woman with a reputation for being an awesome kindergarten teacher; and overheard Jaime saying she was headed off to clean up a poopy “whoops” in the bathroom.

As the morning progressed I became sad. I was thrilled to be there and am really looking forward to subbing for my daughter. Yet on the way home tears filled my eyes as a strange blanket of grief crept through my heart.

I miss my babies.

At ages 35, 34, 30, 27, 24 and 19 my littles are now all big. They are terrific, productive, delightful, busy, handsome/beautiful…adults.  They have given me eleven adorable Little People, with numbers twelve and thirteen on the way. And just two nights ago I had the opportunity to listen to them mock and honor and express their love to the three whose September birthdays we were celebrating. Sometimes I pinch myself as I wonder how in the world this “infertile” woman has been so lavishly loved by God.

But today I miss them.

I miss all those little blondes and the dark-haired cutie God gave us last through adoption. I miss wondering if it was dog or toddler pee on the hallway floor and realizing at 4:30 PM that chili dogs would have to do because I forgot to thaw the chicken…again. I miss dandelion bouquets. Feeding the ducks at Burke Lake. Overhearing Benny praying from room to room at night that each would “love God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength.” Snuggling on the couch to teach another first grader to read. The smell of a just-bathed newborn. Having my frig covered with pictures of Mommy and Daddy whose skinny arms stretched out of our fat heads. Picking up coloring books and popsicles and a Blockbuster movie for the one who had a fever. Nags Head vacations with a house full of kids and friends.

I miss my littles. It may sound strange but today I feel like I’m grieving. Why? They’re all well and I still get to make their favorite birthday dinners. They love to mock me for lovingly comparing a friend to a hobbit and remind me that the every single accent I try always sounds asian. Laughter still fills my home when they are around and the piano in the living room gets played a lot, usually with Jesse’s newest awesome arrangement of something familiar. When Jake, Joey and Janelle get into the kitchen to help clean up, Disney songs are still belted uproariously out and Josh thinks even today’s video games are “unrealistic.” And once in awhile I even hear Jaime slightly mispronouncing her r’s.

So what am I grieving?

I’m mourning the loss of years I thought would never end. But they did.

They ended before I made enough pbnj’s; played enough CandyLand; read enough “Fox and the Hound”‘s; kissed enough boo-boos; graded enough spelling tests; cheered at enough basketball games; swept up enough Cheerios; wiped enough tears; kissed enough soft cheeks; returned enough morning grins; clapped at enough piano recitals; celebrated enough lost teeth; and combed or trimmed or curled or cut gum about of enough hair.

Maybe it was  yesterday’s gloomy, rainy day that caused me to mirror the melancholy because it’s been awhile since I’ve grieved like this. I mostly love my still-busy but different life when I can actually go to the bathroom alone and enjoy leisurely time reading my Bible or editing family photos or blogging in my room with no interruptions (well, except when Benny’s elderly mother wants to know if I can help her find a NCIS rerun on her tv or asks again if I’m sure she took all her pills that morning). But yesterday I was mourning the loss of a life that was more exhausting but wonderful than I could have ever dreamed.

If you’re a mom of young children, please try to remember that before you know it you will be me. The very things that tempt you to feel unappreciated, cause you to fall into bed exhausted (knowing it’s only a matter of time before someone cries to be fed or falls out of bed or rushes in frightened by a bad dream), and make you crazy are those things that may find you driving in a few decades with tears streaming. Of course you get tired and overwhelmed. What you’re doing with your life requires more courage and strength than you ever anticipated. And, yes, you get as low on patience as you do sleep.

But sooner than you think you might be sitting in your quiet room alone thinking about how happy you are that your pregnant daughter and her husband are coming for dinner. In fact (shhh…don’t tell anyone) you might even experience a tinge of jealousy that she is the one about to bring home a newborn and not you.

Then you’ll come to your senses and realize that there is something precious and sweet about remembering things that used to feel they would always be…but aren’t. The grief will pass but the memories won’t.

Kiss your babies while their cheeks remain soft and their little bottoms can still fit into your lap. And tonight when you fall exhausted into bed, remember there’s now one less day before you will celebrate their last birthday at home before they get married to start the crazy, wonderful years they, too, think will creep by before they get old (right, Jake?). The tears you shed now over another day of doing chores that will only have to be redone tomorrow will become tears of sentimental regret that one one is in the house to mess it up.

I know you probably don’t believe me. But trust me. It’s all true.

Me and my “babies”

Pray For Destiny Hope: Part Two

My post yesterday was the first after my summer break. The response was surprising. It seems my thoughts about Destiny Hope (scroll down to see this if you haven’t already) hit a chord in many hearts.

I’m encouraged!

Why? Because many of you, like me, are aware of the spiritual pride (as one reader defined the sinful attitude we often deal with in relation to “those sinners out there”) that tempts us to view ourselves as better than others because our actions are more outwardly righteous than theirs.

• “You wouldn’t catch me wearing something like that on national TV…or even at the beach, for goodness sake!”
• “How in the world could that young woman do those things in front of millions of people???”
• “Where did she learn to act like that? Who in the world had a filthy enough mind to choreograph those moves?”
• “What happened to the little girl who went to Sunday School and wore a promise ring?”

I’ll admit it. My first reaction to the teaser clips I saw of Miley’s moves on Fox News wasn’t compassion. They were revolting. Shameful. Disgusting. Shocking. Until I took some moments to look into my own heart.

I was six years old when my friend Linda, the pastor’s daughter, and I were walking around the “dime store” (many of you are too young to know what that means) on a Saturday afternoon. We typically headed straight for the cheap little dolls and their even cheaper little accessories. I don’t remember the details of what I was thinking that day over fifty years ago, but I do remember something important. One of the “magic” baby bottles — where the milk seemed to disappear when turned up to feed the baby — ended up in my pocket when we left. And I didn’t have the 25 cents to pay for it.

It couldn’t have been that bad because it was the pastor’s daughter’s idea! The bottle in her pocket had disappearing orange juice, so between us we could feed our babies juice and milk.

At age six these two young churched girls had already become thieves and liars. And one of them justified her actions because the desire to “go along” with her pastor’s kid gave her just the permission she needed to do what was in her heart to do anyway.

The next time I remember stealing and lying was in fifth grade. I was in the “advanced” reading group and desperately wanted to retain my role as the group leader. This meant I had to read numerous books in a given time period and answer a list of comprehension questions to prove I had actually completed them. I also had the job of checking the other group members’ quizzes and then keep track of their progress in the teacher’s grade book.

Maybe you’re ahead of me. This meant I had authorized access to the answer keys.

I don’t remember if this happened just once, but I remember cheating one afternoon when no one else was in the room. I stole the answers to one (or more?) of the quizzes because my leadership tasks had left me behind in my own reading. My proud heart craved the recognition and respect of being the leader and I wasn’t about to give that up.

There you have it: by age 10 I was already demonstrating my willingness to steal, lie (covering up sin is the same as lying, right?) and rebel against God and my parents/teacher to get what I wanted. This pattern continued into my teen years when I was willing to compromise morally and ethically to keep a boyfriend or be accepted by the “cool” people or get ahead academically.

And I wish all that had stopped when I graduated high school!

appomattoxchurchofchrist.org

You see, a couple of months back I reacted angrily at Benny (my husband) and threw my cell phone at the wall near him. That same attitude of entitlement I had decades ago (didn’t I “deserve” that baby bottle and expedited quiz grades and cute boyfriend?) remains to some degree to this day. When Benny did something that tempted me to react angrily, to his shock I picked up my phone and heaved it toward the wall. Sigh. At least I didn’t throw it right at him. Because I don’t typically express my anger outwardly (even though it’s alive and well in my heart) he and I both realized this was a sign that something was deeply affecting me. The little girl who “deserved” a toy she couldn’t pay for became a wife who “deserves” her husband’s sensitivity, attention or encouragement. I’ve spent some good time with the Lord asking Him to search out the things in my heart that allowed me to act so wrongly toward Benny.

So what does this have to do with Miley?  What if her actions, like mine as a kid and even recently as an adult, are symptoms of heart issues of which she isn’t even aware? Are her actions really the biggest problem? Or is there something deeper and even more serious going on?

The only reason you and I become aware of what is motivating us is because God shows us. I don’t see my sinful anger, greed, self-pity or painful sadness over being sinned against with my own eyes. And neither do you. Perhaps like me, you want to blame things like outbursts of anger on disrespectful kids or incompetent store clerks or gossipy friends or unkind relatives. We see — or are even willing to see — the roots of sin or brokenness or grief in our hearts when the Spirit of God kindly shows them to us. Left to ourselves, like Miley, we would go our own way without thought to how our actions begin in and flow out of our hearts.

Jesus talked about this when He said: “For out of the heart come evil thoughts, murder, adultery, sexual immorality, theft, false witness, slander” (Matthew 15:19). Hmm…sinful actions begin in the heart. Pornography and gossip, adulterous affairs and teens making out in the backseat of cars, lies and murder all begin in the heart before they ever come out — to just one person over lunch or to millions on TV.

Seeing how similar Miley and I alike are helps me to cultivate Christlike compassion rather than pharisaical judgement toward her. We both have a heart problem. I have been declared not guilty of my many sins while she seemingly remains in need of a Savior who is just as able to forgive her as He has me.

P.S. By the way, my conscience got the best of me and I told Mom about the magic baby bottle.  She and the pastor’s wife had a good talkin’ to with LInda and me (well, not just a talkin’ to!) and we both had to return the toys to the store. The manager tried to give them back to us to say thanks for having the courage to return them (what courage??? our Moms made us!) but our moms wisely declined. They paid the 25 cents each for them, but then we all left the store with the man holding them in his hand. Thanks, Mom!

Borrowed Trouble

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She stood shaking on the side of the pool. At age ten, she desperately wanted to learn to dive. But each time she tried she ended up looking like a pretzel falling into the water. Head pointing down but feet curled up in a cannon ball-like pose, poor Jaime just couldn’t do it.

It didn’t matter how many times her dad and I tried to coerce her or how often we gently put her into the right position. She just couldn’t overcome the fear of letting herself fall into the water without the reflex to protect herself. Poor thing. She couldn’t even explain what she was afraid of!

Summer after summer she tried again. And again. Suddenly it happened. In her early 20’s she dove into the pool. Her shocked family clapped and cheered. She acted like she’d been doing it for years.

Sometimes we don’t know why we’re unable to do something. We’re afraid of something — and don’t know what it is. Self-protective reflexes kick in: defenses; withholding honest information about what we’re going through; fear of being hurt (again); unconfessed sin; anxious thoughts about being misunderstood.

The puritans used to call it “borrowing trouble.”

Jaime watched person after person dive into the pool without cracking their head open on the bottom of the pool or drowning. Time and time again she played Marco Polo without being able to get into the pool quickly like her siblings and friends. She felt uncoordinated — even though she tore it up on the basketball court. There was something, though, that made her fearful of thrusting herself head first into the pool. Something irrational but nevertheless real.

I’ve been borrowing trouble recently. And trouble isn’t worth borrowing. The Bible says today has “enough troubles of its own” — so why borrow more from the future? Why reach into an unknown future, whether days or weeks or years ahead, and borrow things that may not even happen? And even if the trouble we think may come does in fact happen, tomorrow’s grace and help can’t be borrowed either. Today has it’s own trouble and grace.

What Jaime didn’t know was that one day she would get the courage to go head first into the water. Once she did it, the anxiety would be replaced with joy…and she can now assure her kids that there is really nothing to fear.

Are you facing something or someone that is tempting you to be afraid? Do you find yourself borrowing trouble from an unknown, uncertain future? Is there a refreshing pool of water in front of you that you can’t enjoy because you’re afraid to dive in?

No worries. No amount of coercing from yourself or others is going to help you. The only thing that will help is your decision to just go for it and trust God to let you experience the joy that courage brings.

More on that next time.

30 Years Ago Yesterday

Not everyone likes a gushing mom so I know some of my readers will probably skip today’s post. But I just can’t help but introduce you to my son, Jesse.

Yesterday was his 30th birthday.

Jesse and his wife, Rebekah

I won’t go into the details that only Mom, maybe a couple of patient sisters or a wife would actually care about. But I want you to know that whenever I’m discouraged and wondering if the future will be brighter than the present I often think of Jesse.

You see, Jesse came into our lives after two “easy” kids. We never said it out loud but Benny and I thought we were pretty good parents with Josh and Jaime. They were compliant, pleasant and did what they were asked without much fuss. Other than Josh giving his little sister a bath with toilet water (it was clean, thankfully), the two of them “cleaning” the living room furniture with baby powder and then “cleaning” the fireplace by making sure all the soot got onto themselves we had a pretty easy time parenting them.

Jesse’s firstborn, Sam, recently showing off his missing tooth

Then came Jesse. Before he turned two he was throwing violent temper tantrums that left us crying (literally!) out to God for wisdom to help him. God was good to give us this little guy who fell onto the floor screaming in public to deal with any vestiges of good-parent- thinking and left us full of compassion for parents whose kids acted out in public.

One day I was in tears on the side of the road, feeling desperate and alone as a mother. I had no more solutions. No more strength. No more hope. The tantrums had been continuing for nearly two years and I was exhausted. Plus, we already had another son and had just found out I was pregnant again. Five kids in 11 years was about to become the end of me.

But hope came. WIth tears streaming down my face in the van that day I sensed the still, small voice of God’s comfort in my head assuring me that He was at work in my son’s heart and that someday I would see the fruit of all He was doing.

And I have and do.

Issac (yes, it’s spelled right) is Jesse’s second and is Daddy’s mini-me

By God’s grace, Jesse is a trophy of His faithfulness. He is a faithful husband and loving father to three adorable boys. Through family trials and wrestlings with the Lord, God grew him; protected him; gifted him; and saved him. He grew in self-control and learned to depend on God to change his heart from one of anger to gentleness. God gave him a heart to honor his parents after years of kicking, biting and resisting us. He has brought this mom joy by filling our home with music and embracing a call to preach. He works hard to support his family as an IT guy and I can depend on a warm hug whenever he sees me.

If you have children about whom you are concerned, pour out your heart to God. He hears. He answers. He is faithful. He takes the wandering heart and turns it toward Himself. He transforms anger and disrespect into tenderness and honor. He brings joy following sadness, replaces fear with faith and fulfills His promises even when it takes longer than we hoped.

Jesse’s youngest, Josiah

Happy Birthday, son. I loved you when you bit and fought me. When you’d come into our room at night and talk about your struggles and temptations and accomplishments. When you came home and played “My Cheeseburger” on the piano at midnight. When you hit that last second shot and made Cindy and I jump up and down for joy on the bleachers. When you told me you were in love and when we shared the dance at your wedding. When you cried at The Columbia when we told you about the PC and when God brought you back to Orlando to live closeby. I love you for giving me three grandsons and for working hard to train them in godliness.

But I mostly love you for teaching me that while good parenting is important, the One who is most responsible for growing a kids heart and character is God. You’ve taught me humility both when you threw a fit in the floor at Toys R Us as a toddler and when you shared your heart with me as a teen.

I love to watch you love your wife and sons. I learn from your preaching. I value your counsel. And I’m grateful that you’re not nearly as impressed with yourself as I thought you might be. Thirty years from now I will most likely be gone. But every year I get to watch you grow, admit your flaws and failures, love your family and serve God’s people will be a joy.

I’m glad God gave you to me, son. And I pray that your life will continue to be an example to me and others that the story is still being written. God completes what He begins…always.

My son and his sons

The Ultimate Blog Challenge: Day Nine

Finding Goodness in Disappointment

Last week I talked about the drift the Lord has been helping me with. It’s been meaningful to get my thoughts onto paper and to share them with others. I’ve been touched by the comments, facebook messages and interactions with readers who said you were comforted by the fact that someone shared and understood your struggles. Person after person said, “It was as if you were describing my struggles!” There is sometimes a sweet relief that comes with knowing we’re not alone. One woman said that reading the posts helped her to realize she was battling anger toward God for her discouragement and drift…until she realized the battles she was facing were shared.

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Another common theme I’m hearing and experiencing revolves around disappointment. As Christians, we work hard not to have expectations but to entrust our lives to God’s sovereign control and care.

When you were single you really didn’t expect to find the “perfect” spouse, yet soon after (or even before) the honeymoon you start getting irritated and discouraged over how quickly romantic love has been tainted by “where did those gooey feelings go?”

The new job you rejoiced over as God’s provision just a year ago has become a source of frustration and you find yourself looking online for a new position.  What happened?

The baby you longed for has finally arrived, yet you realize you’re exhausted. Why didn’t anyone tell you babies cried all the time and you would never get more than an hour of sleep at a time?

Disappointment. It’s a powerful influence in our lives that we don’t want to admit. Why? Because it sounds whiney. Ungrateful. Childish. So we remain silent and don’t reach out for help.

The truth is that sometimes my disappointment is an evidence of my ungrateful, me-centered heart. But additionally, I’m finding that a real cause of disappointment is unmet expectations.  And sometimes I don’t even realize i had expectations until they’re unmet. Can you relate?

Yesterday I mentioned having lunch with a friend recently. We realized we’ve been experiencing some of the same difficulties, temptations, drift and blah-ness. As we talked, our conversation turned to the common feeling that this season in our lives just doesn’t look like we thought it would. In some ways life is amazing and meaningful. Yet in other ways we are finding ourselves confused and disoriented. We surmised together that this means we were expecting something different than what’s  happening.

But it’s not just our season of life as older women that’s different than we thought.

A young mom I talked with recently really felt called to homeschool her kids, but is battling disappointment over their standardized test scores and is feeling like a failure as a teacher.

A single friend who just turned 30 is feeling perplexed and disappointed that she isn’t the wife and mother of “a bunch of kids” by this age.

A 40-something man is disappointed that he hasn’t made more progress in his career compared to other guys his age.

Parents of three young adults are struggling with disappointment over the lack of spiritual hunger in two of their sons.

Disappointment is common and is often times preventable. But the simple truth is this: people who are struggling with this kind of sadness and perplexity need the comfort of the gospel. Even when selfish or unrealistic expectations are the source of our disappointment, we all need to be reminded of the love and goodness of God.

That’s what my friend and I ended with at lunch last week. We know that our sinful hearts are at work in our disappointments. And our faithful God will surely help us to see where sin in alive, then give us grace to repent and turn from it. But I found peace in the reminders we shared with one another that God is still near and God is still good.

Sometimes God’s goodness is veiled when disappointment strikes.  If you’re like me, while I know better than to overtly blame God for stuff that happens around me that I don’t like, there is a subtle shift in my thinking from “God is good” to “God is sovereign.” Does that sound strange to you? I know that God’s goodness and sovereignty are linked and not in opposition to each other! Yet during times of disappointment I can drift from the glorious truth that God’s goodness and sovereignty are forever melted together in His nature. My sinful heart and the enemy’s whispering lies say: “Yes, God is sovereign so obviously these circumstances are a part of His plan to grow me. But is He really good? Does He really care about what I’m going through?” Doubting God’s love and goodness is the common temptation of the discouraged or suffering Christian.

These words by author and pastor, John Piper, have been food for my soul:

“God will not turn away from doing you good. He will keep on doing good. He doesn’t do good to His children sometimes and bad to them other times. He keeps on doing good and He never will stop doing good for ten thousand ages of ages. When things are going bad that does not mean God has stopped doing good. It means He is shifting things around to get them in place for more good, if you will go on loving Him.”

Are you disappointed in how your life is unfolding? Do you have relationships that were once a source of joy but are now hard and confusing? Did you have a picture of your life that isn’t what you hoped for years ago?

Join me in remembering that no matter what is going on; however your life is different than you expected;  whatever relationships are tearing at your heart; or whatever ways you are tempted with disappointment…God loves you and He is good.

John Piper would tell you and I that God is “shifting things around to get them in place for more good, if you will go on loving Him.”

We will go on loving Him because those who belong to Him will never NOT belong to Him. When we became His we became forever His. Even when we drift and let go of Him, He never lets go of us. Even when we fail and sin He stands eager to forgive and restore.

Lately I’ve been rehearsing a little song in my mind: “Jesus loves me, this I know for the Bible tells me so.”

The God of the universe loves me and promises to withhold no good thing from me. Always.

If you’re a believer, this is your promise, too.  If you’re not a Christian and have come across this blog or had a friend send it to you, my good God is pursuing you. I pray you will find great comfort in knowing you are loved by Him even though you don’t yet love Him back.

That’s good news.

It’s a Really Good Friday

It’s been good to confess my anger.  Even to strangers. Why? Because there is growth that comes even in the confession. And I’ve been blessed and touched with those who have contacted me to say thanks because they, too, struggle with angry thoughts and actions. Again, there is comfort in knowing we’re not alone in our struggles.

Confession isn’t enough, though, and doesn’t mean change will come. Additionally, just because we know others struggle we can’t become lazy in our participation in the process of change. If I am going to resist the temptations (which will come) to rant again, then I have to prepare my heart now.

17th century church leader and theologian, John Owen, exhorted the Christian with these words:  “Be killing sin or it will be killing you.”  While outbursts of anger isn’t one of the sins I deal with on a consistent basis, it’s one that has damaging affects on others. I want to think, “Oh, that was my first angry outburst to my husband in a really long time. I was just stressed and overwhelmed. I’m sure it won’t happen again.” But the Bible clearly teaches that sin doesn’t just go away. It has to be killed. (The theological term for this is mortification — the putting to death of sin.) Plus, I’m finding there’s a reason why people talk about aging people being “old and crotchety.” As I age, I’m finding some temptations to increase rather than decrease.

John Owen taught me something years ago that has been helpful in the weakening of certain sins in my life. He suggests that one of the ways we can resist and kill sin is to anticipate it.

After a seafood fest in our mid 20’s, Benny broke out in terrible hives. Because he had eaten several kinds of seafood he didn’t know exactly what had caused the reaction. When we were invited months later to another seafood meal, we anticipated the possibility of him reacting again, so he was careful to only his favorite…crab meat. We had purchased various products “just in case.”  Sure enough, later that night he was miserable.  No more crab meat for my husband.

Anger (or greed, self-pity, lust, bitterness or whatever sin we are battling) can become an “allergen” that causes us to react in wrong ways that make us and others miserable. Owen encourages us to anticipate the circumstances that could likely tempt us to sin, then prepare ourselves to resist and fight our sin. In the past week or so I have been making notes about the topics, situations and “hot spots” in my marriage so I can anticipate becoming angry at Benny again. When I am tempted to react sinfully, I will have armed my mind and heart with “just in case” truths to help me to resist that temptation.

Our part in the process of change is important. But today being Good Friday is a timely opportunity to remind ourselves that while effort on our part to mortify sin and grow in godliness are required of us, the most important contribution to change is the indwelling power of the Holy Spirit.  Because Jesus Christ took our place on the cross — dying for every single sin we will ever commit and then rising again as proof that God accepted His atoning sacrifice — those of us who have repented of our sin and turned to Christ have been made new. We no longer have to sin! But when we do, we can run to a throne of grace and ask God (then others) to forgive us!

I will get angry again. But by the power of the risen Christ I can anticipate my temptations, gird myself with truth to resist them, then run back to the throne of grace for forgiveness again when I sin.

Thank God for (good) Friday!