The Irritating Patience of God

     In Genesis chapter 40, Joseph is in prison. Wait, lets back the betrayal bandwagon up to chapter 39 where we see Joseph sent to check up on his brothers. He is wearing his coat of many colors, which I recently learned, because it was too fancy to work in, marked him as management material in his father's eyes. Unfortunately, it marked him as spoiled, dead meat in his brothers' eyes. In current vernacular, they were offended. So offended they wanted to kill him but, since he was family, settled for stuffing him in a hole and selling him. Betrayal number one--band of brothers.

   Joseph is purchased by Potiphar where, despite being young, without ESL (Egyptian as Second Language) class, and certainly without his fancy coat, was nevertheless promoted to management. This happened because the Lord was with Joseph. Unfortunately, someone else wanted to be with Joseph, Mrs. Potiphar. When he spurns the seductress she accuses Joseph of the sexual contact she was actively seeking. I get the feeling neither the servants nor the mister believed her because the punishment was not more severe, but Joseph wound up stuffed in a hole again, this time a prison. Betrayal number two--Potiphar's wife.

    The Lord was with Joseph in prison. But he left him there. Unsurprisingly, Joseph was promoted to management. Two of the Pharaoh's staff, his cupbearer/butler and his baker, also wound up in prison. One day he noticed his jailbirds weren't as chipper as usual and asked what was wrong. (What was wrong?? Most of us consider being in prison explanation enough.) Briefly, they had bad dreams. Joseph interpreted them. The butler would be lifted up--reinstated. The baker would be lifted up--decapitated. Joseph asked the cupbearer to put in a good word for him to Pharaoh. But he might as well have asked the baker for all the good it did him because, once reinstated, the cupbearer forgot. Betrayal number 3--the butler did it.

    God had a plan for Joseph, but He was not in a hurry to get to the dream sequence. It was not enough for Joseph to become a leader in Pharaoh's kingdom, for the prophecy in Joseph's dream to be fulfilled, he needed to be in charge of the famine food bank. Meanwhile, back in the dungeon, Joseph waited on the irritating patience of God. Although the Bible records this in just a few verses, these experiences happened over 13 years. But these years of waiting prepared him for the years to come. 

    Meanwhile, back in Kalispell, our prayer group has been meeting for some time now and most of our prodigals still are not close to the Lord. Closer perhaps, but not where we want them to be. We know their years of waiting will prepare them for the years to come also, but waiting is irritating. Their circumstances may not change, but God is still with them. We get impatient with God's patience toward our prodigals. Fortunately, he is also patient with our impatience at the irritating patience of God.

   

The Swing of Things

    I committed the cardinal sin of posting this poem on Facebook before I took the time to polish it up. At the time I thought it unpolishable, which is good enough for Facebook, but I won't post it here until I have given it time to brew in my brain . . . Oookay, it's two days later and my brain fluid still hasn't steeped, so I guess I will just fill in context. I sat on our deck on one of those warm pre-spring days last week, and thought how much better the backyard looked with a swing set in it. There were no riders on it at the time, and yet it was full of happy memories, and the promise of more to come.

 

The Swing of Things 

When we moved here,

we had no swing set,

gladly rid of toys that took up

so much room in the yard.

We put away childish things

so to speak, some anyway.

Our children had outgrown

such simple entertainment.

 

And now, two decades later,

there is a swing set in the yard.

One of many childish things--

beloved toys for our grandkids.

What we needed was not

more room in the yard, it was perspective

to see what was missing

and get back in the swing of things.

3/18/21

                                                        

 

 

When Reality Left the Building

    I have stated previously that one of the things I learned from growing up with a schizophrenic parent is that reality is important. I have also stated that I wish more people had the benefit of my childhood, because in so many areas of modern life, reality has left the building. Many practical realities remain the same, you can't buy $50 worth of groceries with a $5 bill because you identify it as a $50, nor would you accept a cashier demanding more money because they identify your $50 as $5. Math requires reality. Medicine, not so much. The same doctors willing to give monumental medical intervention to a patient who identifies as the opposite sex, will not prescribe medication based on the weight they identify with. Meanwhile psychiatrists helping patients who have lost touch with reality, still expect them to pay with real money.

    Here are a few examples of how "reality" has changed in my lifetime:

Men vs. Women

    60's--men were still considered superior to women in some areas

    70's--women's lib considered women superior to men in all areas

    80-90's--men & women differ physically and in thought processes, but are equal in intellect, capability and leadership

When reality left the building--

  00's--men & women process thoughts and emotions identically

  10's-20's--men & women are equal physically and athleticly

Spoiler alert--The same flood of hormones that creates the sex organs, wires the body and brain to that gender.

Speaking of Gender

  60's--2 sexes/2 genders, male & female

  70's--gay/lesbian recognized as minority

  10's--gay/lesbian marriage legalized

  20's--LGBTQ anything goes

When reality left the building (arguably)--

   10's--2 sexes, but many genders

   20's--gender is a matter of preference 

Spoiler alert--See above. Gender, like sex, is a matter of wiring, not wishful thinking, our cells are wired to our birth sex. Since gender transition treatment addresses a tiny percentage of these differences between sexes, it is not surprising that it seldom solves the dysphoria.

 

Us vs. Them  (race, politics, religion, truth)

  60's--tolerance--agree to disagree

  70's--I'm okay, you're okay, separate truths

  70's-00's--no objective truth, all roads lead to God

  10's-20's--others must accept my truth & vote to legitimize it

When reality left the building-- 

  10's--disagreement equals hatred

  20's--your hatred justifies my violence

Spoiler alert--Disagreement is intellectual, hatred is emotional, neither justify violence. 

 

    These timelines are just impressions from my lifetime. With the exception of gay marriage, I did not research dates, because that would be hard. However, I identify the above information as being researched. Besides, re-search is based on re-ality and reality, as we know, has already left the building.

 

   

 

 

 

 

The Great Dilemma

    Our prayer time for prodigals was different this week, for one thing we met in person for the first time in months, but the main reason for that was so we could discuss concerns some of our women had in response to Sunday's sermon from Hebrews 10. The final verses of the chapter are about the seriousness of the judgment for those who turn away from what Christ has offered. When one asked our pastor to harmonize this scripture with the story of the prodigal son, he was not very helpful. Our pastor's sons are young, it is easy for him to tell parents of prodigals that lack of fruit indicates their grown children are probably unsaved, while his own are young and responsive. His understanding will be deepened if the sons he leads to Christ as boys, stray later in life. What I think the women wanted to discuss was the great dilemma--Should I warn my adult prodigals of the judgment to come at the risk of severing the relationship?

     Here are the things we considered:

   --The context of Hebrews.  What I finally understood this time through Hebrews was why it was written. Jews that had become Christians, now hated by both Rome and their fellow Jews, were considering going back to Judaism. For me this would be like forsaking Christ to go back to the empty elitism of the Mormon church, an incomprehensible idea. So, although judgment awaits those who wander and doubt, it is not the same thing as deliberately trading Christ's sacrifice for offerings that had nothing to offer, except less persecution.

  --Their Biblical background. Our prodigals grew up in Christian homes. They know about hell and judgment, even if they do not want to think about it. We don't like to think about it either. I had many years while my children were growing up to plant the seeds of God's truth in their hearts, but they are grown now and my role has changed. I must do the same thing Christ did when he left his disciples, trust the Holy Spirit to teach them how to apply what they learned. We should, however, have the opportunity to plant those seeds of faith in our grandchildren--if we don't alienate their parents. If a warning now would drive our prodigals closer to Christ, even if it drove them away from us, it would be worth the pain. Unfortunately, rejection tends to be a package deal, rejecting everything associated with Christ, not just their preachy parents. And then we lose the opportunity to be a godly influence to both our children and theirs. Not worth the risk.

  --The power of a godly life. In 1Peter 3:1, 2 wives are instructed to reach their unsaved husbands by behavior, not words. If that is true in the most open, intimate relationship we have on earth, why do we think grown children with whom we have much less intimacy will respond to our unsolicited Biblical "advice"? Oftentimes our words prove to them that we do not trust God to reach them without our "help".

 --The power of the Holy Spirit. I did not get saved because I loved what Christ had done for me, although I believed it to be true. I got saved because the Holy Spirit beat me to a pulp with the knowledge that I was lost and would go to hell if I died. Even then, it took a year to wear down my resistance, but inevitably, irresistibly, He won. Some claim God is too polite to intrude where He is unwanted, Paul and I would disagree. I pray that the same power that knocked Paul off and on his ass, will convict my loved ones. And although I would love to be everyone's amateur Holy Spirit, because I have so many ideas about what other people should be doing, the actual Spirit is really good at his job and far more effective than my words. He even speaks "men". Every Holy Spirit Jr. I have observed (including me) in my 48 years as a Christian, has pushed people farther from God, not closer. 

 

   So the long trip to my short answer is, no. It is not worth severing an already stressed relationship with her 40 something prodigal, to remind her what she already knows about God's judgment. And no, I do not think losing the opportunity to be a godly influence to her grandchildren, by alienating a son well taught in Biblical truth, is worth the risk. What they choose to do is between them and God, but I hope the decision is based on faith, not fear. My BSF study has been about Jacob, who spent decades drifting in and out of God's will, yet the Lord Himself chose to be identified as the God of Jacob. With repeated patience, God faithfully set him on the right path again, without his mama's words, without a Bible, without even the influence of other believers. Our great dilemmas always come down to the same thing--trusting God to do what we cannot.

Looking Back

   For the one year anniversary of Del’s departure to heaven, Reed and I decided to look back at some of the ways his Dad helped us through the years. Many of these examples are moving—literally. 

•   He came to Helena to help us newlyweds set up our first and (thankfully) only mobile home. 
•    He and Sunshine met us in Billings when we finished serving our time in Denver (that's what our last two years there felt like), helped us unpack the rental truck, pack around 8 month old Britten, and move into our apartment. 
•  There was an incident where Del and Dan Bailey drove over in his blue truck to help us, but neither of us can recall where we lived or what we needed at the time. At this time, we need better memories. 
•  When we moved into our first home in Kalispell, I was really thankful Del was there because the rest of the helpers were strangers from the Baptist church we had yet to attend. (One of the helpers dented our new refrigerator.) I was glad to have someone around who wouldn’t judge me harshly for the crankiness the chaos of moving creates in me. As in, "Put this in the small bedroom, and this in the teeny, tiny bedroom!" I hope this wasn't when Dan helped out and/or that everyone forgave me afterward.
  
•  And the statute of limitations that requires parents to help their offspring move had not yet expired in 1997 when we moved into our current home, because Del was there carrying boxes and helping meet my optimistic expectations for all things I wanted to be set up by nightfall.
  

    --He also helped Reed refinish the dining room floor in our Meridian Road home and even had the great idea of putting plastic up to keep sanding residue out of the kitchen. It would have been even better if he had that idea at the beginning of the project instead of the middle. 

   --He helped us with the additional bedroom we added to that house. 

   --He even built a matching playhouse for the kids.

  --When he helped us out November of '96 by watching the kids so I could accompany Reed on a work trip to Orlando, we promised him it would be easy because the kids would be in school all day. As it turned out, after he got to the school, he found out it was cancelled (for a couple days) because of the huge snowstorm. The snow fort the kids built that snow day lasted until April.

   --More recently, the folks came to Butte to help Britten and Luke get their wrecked repo house into livable condition. When we arrived to help there was no running water. Although the mold in the basement sheetrock and insulation held plenty of water and made me want to run--away. 

   --Gluttons for punishment, they came to Butte again for a family “Labor on Labor Day” roofing party. But that time, we assigned Del ground support duty, picking up shingle trimmings, nails and things that fell off the roof.  Because we did not want him to be one of those things.

   --We are still using the end tables, dry sink and china cupboard Dad built for us decades ago. 

   --This is not a complete list. As Reed always says, “Memory is the second thing to go . . . he can't remember the first.”       

     Even when Alzheimer’s robbed him of the competence to help out in the ways he did looking back, his quiet presence at home was comforting--and is greatly missed.

 

Grieving Places

     Many years ago we grown children and our Dad visited theme parks in Orlando. At places where the background scenery was particularly beautiful, there were signs that said "Photo Spot". Those were, in fact, the only places my Dad was willing to stop and take a picture. Not surprising. Dad would have been perfectly satisfied seeing all of Epcot in two hours. So far this post does not tie in with the title very well. What made me think of Photo Spots is that this is a significant week in the Lamb family. It is the one year anniversary of Del's final journey home, both to his earthly one, and his heavenly one. If life came with labels, this time would be called a "Grieving Place".

     Not that it does not happen other times, but these significant events, holidays, birthdays, anniversaries, especially the "firsts" are focal points of memories, whether we want them to be or not. God uses these times to help us heal. As I learned in Griefshare, time does not heal anything, it only lessens the urgency. Healing comes from feeling.  And feeling, both happy and sad, comes from memories. If these "sad-iversaries" are painful, they are also a necessary part of the healing process. I should know.

    Growing up in a home with mental illness, I became very good at stuffing feelings deep inside. So good, in fact, that it became an automatic response to stress in my home, and even after I left home. But feelings have to go somewhere, and eventually that secret place inside me became so full that everything came spilling out. And emotions, no longer attached to the memories that prompted them, make you feel crazy and, in my case, depressed. It took a long time for me to acknowledge that the reason I could not just deal with my past mentally was because the problem was not in my mind, it was in my heart. 

    So I try to help, by a card, email or other tangible way those in fresh grief, like friends at church or my mother-in-law. To know they are not alone. That these grieving places are part of God's plan for healing. That sorrow reflects the depth of the love. And that the same memories that are painful now will eventually give them comfort. Those who have held the rose of love deep in their hearts, must someday feel the thorn.