Another topic for the devotional I haven't been asked to give is: There is no such thing as hypothetical grace. As a girl I would sometimes let myself imagine how I would deal with a death in my family or divorce, like so many of my friends had faced. I was not a Christian then; I didn't know how the grace of God carries you through unbearable circumstances, but even as a Christian when my friends faced those impossible times, I was convinced I wouldn't be able to. That is because there is no such thing as hypothetical grace. God doesn't give us His grace to face the possibility of loss, He gives it for the reality.
As a descendant of very long lived women, I will almost certainly face being widowed. This is true for most women. It is prudent to prepare for that by understanding your finances and life insurance, knowing the location of important papers, and how to take care of, or who to call, for car and house repairs. As an older friend said while struggling to roll up her sleeping bag after a women's retreat, "If I'd known he was going to die, I'd have asked a lot more questions." We can, and should, prepare beforehand in these ways, but we cannot prepare our emotions, we cannot cope ahead of time. I often told my children, "The head doesn't tell the heart what to do." This was mostly a warning against dating non-Christians, but it is also true for those hardships we anticipate. We can prepare our mind, we cannot prepare our heart.
When my children were young, I would see families in our church heartbroken over children who walked away from God. I told God I couldn't bear such a thing and prayed that my children would be faithful all their lives. But when he turned 14, my youngest, my loving son with a gentle soul, began to doubt and wander from God. He didn't turn hard, but certainly ungrateful, like many teens, and he hid behaviors he knew we wouldn't approve of. Although we allowed him to attend a different church with his best friend, we insisted he go to church until he turned 18. We could have made church attendance a condition of living in our home, as some Christians do, but we felt that if a grown child is going to church only because he is coerced, it is probably of no benefit to him. One of the things parents have to let go of when their children graduate, is the right to tell them what to do. Our son is now 23, he still doesn't attend church or read his Bible. He believes in God, but not that God is personally involved in his life.
I am coping through these long years of waiting by the grace of God. I have learned to look past the tattoos, piercings and cigarettes to the still gentle young man inside. He is one of my favorite people to spend time with. I remember that the God who began a good work in my son's heart when he was four years old, will be faithful to complete it. I remember that where we end up depends more on God's faithfulness than ours. If how we finish as Christians depended on us, none of us would remain obedient. And I remember that I, too, struggle with seeing God as passive.
Some of the best advice I read about Christian parenting was in a book by Edith Schaeffer, she wrote that the stage we are at as Christians is because of the experiences God has brought into our lives. He also has to do that in our children's lives, let them get there. Naturally we want to spare our children from making our mistakes, but it isn't realistic to expect our warnings to impact them as much as real life experience. Few of us fell into sins because we were never warned, all of us have a conscience, we simply chose to ignore the warning.
There are Christian books promising godly children, good health and financial security, often these are worth reading because they contain good principles, but God has offered us no such guarantees for this life and the pursuit of them is a sinful pursuit. Those promises are for heaven. Sometimes these false hopes are based on biblical proverbs, which are statements of general truth, but not promises of God. Hebrews 11:32-40 shows that many of God's greatest servants suffered incredible hardships, we will suffer as well, partly because it is the human condition and partly because of God's inscrutable plan for our lives. What God has promised is His presence in our suffering and His grace to endure, just when we need it, one day at a time.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Monday, November 1, 2010
Perfect Weakness
If I were God and condescended enough to use a flawed human being like myself to work out my divine purpose, I would use people at their spiritual peak, limited as that may be. Apparently God and I don't think alike because He keeps trying to use me when I am spiritually floundering. There have been many times in my life when I am confidently trusting and obeying God. But there are also times when I return to my besetting sin and find myself in a spiritual vortex. I begin and end my days feeling like a failure. In those times God has brought into my life people spiritually needier than myself. I talk to them about what the Bible says, but not as one who has arrived spiritually.
It's almost as if God thinks I have a problem with arrogance. My 38 years as a Christian have revealed to me that I am a pride onion, as soon as one layer is removed, more pride is underneath. That is one of the reasons I don't listen to"talk" radio programs, I am arrogant enough without an outsider telling me that not only am I right, but it's okay to ridicule people who don't agree with me. Rudeness sells, but God doesn't buy it. Christians are called to be humble even when we we're right; I have a hard enough time doing that when I'm wrong which, in my own opinion, seldom occurs. Realizing when you're wrong takes all the fun out of arrogance. However, I am so skilled at projecting poise that when I was broken enough to wind up in a psych ward, the staff thought I was there for a job interview. I call it "terminal competence", the ability to look so together outside when inside I am quivering jello. I have been able to forgive and show mercy to others, not because I a such a saint, but because I am such a sinner. People know I understand their struggles, because I share them.
I have often wished I could have the apostle Paul over for dinner because he understood this so well. Jello hadn't been invented yet, but he understood weakness perfectly and the verses he wrote about it are very comforting to me. He said that "God's strength is made perfect in weakness" and "when I am weak, then I am strong." I know that God can use his word to change the lives of the people I speak to, even though it comes from such a flawed mouthpiece. God uses me most when I am perfect--perfectly weak.
It's almost as if God thinks I have a problem with arrogance. My 38 years as a Christian have revealed to me that I am a pride onion, as soon as one layer is removed, more pride is underneath. That is one of the reasons I don't listen to"talk" radio programs, I am arrogant enough without an outsider telling me that not only am I right, but it's okay to ridicule people who don't agree with me. Rudeness sells, but God doesn't buy it. Christians are called to be humble even when we we're right; I have a hard enough time doing that when I'm wrong which, in my own opinion, seldom occurs. Realizing when you're wrong takes all the fun out of arrogance. However, I am so skilled at projecting poise that when I was broken enough to wind up in a psych ward, the staff thought I was there for a job interview. I call it "terminal competence", the ability to look so together outside when inside I am quivering jello. I have been able to forgive and show mercy to others, not because I a such a saint, but because I am such a sinner. People know I understand their struggles, because I share them.
I have often wished I could have the apostle Paul over for dinner because he understood this so well. Jello hadn't been invented yet, but he understood weakness perfectly and the verses he wrote about it are very comforting to me. He said that "God's strength is made perfect in weakness" and "when I am weak, then I am strong." I know that God can use his word to change the lives of the people I speak to, even though it comes from such a flawed mouthpiece. God uses me most when I am perfect--perfectly weak.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
The Blessing
Since my last post was on empty nesting, this might be a good time to share our family tradition of giving our children our blessing as they leave our home. This is a hand written letter, a kind of farewell address, the final words we want to leave them with. The letter has three main parts, our observations on their character, our hopes for their future, and the incredible privilege it has been to share our home and lives with them. Most of us know our own weaknesses and don't need many reminders, so we try to focus on areas that have shown improvement and on their strengths. Our hope for their future is the same for each one, that they will love and serve God. That is what we are made for and where we find fulfillment. The privilege of raising them is something you don't fully realize until you let them leave. You will see them again, but it will never be the same. Their time as a child in your home has ended and you leave the active phase of parenting to see if the values you tried to plant in their lives took root. Have they grasped the spiritual baton you tried to pass them? Will your children become your friends? Do you trust God to guide them in their adult years as you so imperfectly tried to do in their childhood?
We wrote the first blessing in a Bozeman hotel room as our daughter spent her first night in her college apartment. It is a good thing we had written it out because I was crying too hard to say a word as we parted the next day. We wrote Will's blessing in similar circumstances in another tear soaked hotel in Seattle. Because they were written in hotels, I have no copies of those letters and I regret that. Our youngest son's blessing was written here at home and recently so I have a copy of that tucked away with my important papers.
The value of letters is that they can always reread them, if they choose to save them. I hope they do because they are probably the only place where their dad has poured out his heart to his children so clearly. In the case of our youngest son, who moved out but stayed in town, there was a tangible difference in the way he related to his dad after receiving the blessing. He seemed more at ease. Until Trace read those words I don't think he knew how his father really felt about him.
I also gave blessing letters to most of the "spare sons" who lived for a time in our home, a story I will share at another time. We have few formal rites of passage in this country, grown children often leave home and return many times, and we would be fine with that; but this is our official recognition of their adulthood, a bon voyage less painful than breaking a bottle over their nose and a sneaky way to get in the final word. And the word is--thanks.
We wrote the first blessing in a Bozeman hotel room as our daughter spent her first night in her college apartment. It is a good thing we had written it out because I was crying too hard to say a word as we parted the next day. We wrote Will's blessing in similar circumstances in another tear soaked hotel in Seattle. Because they were written in hotels, I have no copies of those letters and I regret that. Our youngest son's blessing was written here at home and recently so I have a copy of that tucked away with my important papers.
The value of letters is that they can always reread them, if they choose to save them. I hope they do because they are probably the only place where their dad has poured out his heart to his children so clearly. In the case of our youngest son, who moved out but stayed in town, there was a tangible difference in the way he related to his dad after receiving the blessing. He seemed more at ease. Until Trace read those words I don't think he knew how his father really felt about him.
I also gave blessing letters to most of the "spare sons" who lived for a time in our home, a story I will share at another time. We have few formal rites of passage in this country, grown children often leave home and return many times, and we would be fine with that; but this is our official recognition of their adulthood, a bon voyage less painful than breaking a bottle over their nose and a sneaky way to get in the final word. And the word is--thanks.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Empty Nesting
After 28 years of raising children, my husband and I now share an empty nest. There was one abortive attempt four years ago when our youngest became old enough to leave; instead, we wound up housing more kids than we actually gave birth to, but I will share that story another time. I was neither eager for nor dreading our son's leaving. In the best of circumstances it is a mixed blessing to see your children go. Yes, you can have the house to yourselves but who will mow the lawn, scoop the snow, and especially, move heavy things? Our son has been building up his spindly 17 inch biceps for years and can move almost anything we own by himself. We had to buy a 600 lb. hand truck to replace him. I didn't dread his leaving, much as we enjoyed his company, because I could tell he was ready, the time had come. So how has it changed our lives?
I can now put coconut back in all the recipes I have been leaving it out of because Trace didn't like it. I fixed long banished liver and onions for dinner one night. Dinner is now often just two things, soup and bread, salad and sandwich, peanut butter and jelly. We can no longer finish a gallon of milk before it spoils. Our grocery budget sank faster than the stock market. With the extra money I am buying a luxury item that was previously beyond our reach--Tide. After 33 years of using cheap detergent I can now buy Tide.
When Trace still lived at home I didn't take much notice of his coming and going as I did my regular household tasks, now when he comes to our door he is an honored guest. I stop what I am doing to sit and visit with him. One of the blessings of the empty nest is the perspective to realize what a privilege it has always been to share homes and lives with our children. For 28 years we enjoyed that blessing. Thank you Britten, Will and Tracy--my honored guests.
I can now put coconut back in all the recipes I have been leaving it out of because Trace didn't like it. I fixed long banished liver and onions for dinner one night. Dinner is now often just two things, soup and bread, salad and sandwich, peanut butter and jelly. We can no longer finish a gallon of milk before it spoils. Our grocery budget sank faster than the stock market. With the extra money I am buying a luxury item that was previously beyond our reach--Tide. After 33 years of using cheap detergent I can now buy Tide.
When Trace still lived at home I didn't take much notice of his coming and going as I did my regular household tasks, now when he comes to our door he is an honored guest. I stop what I am doing to sit and visit with him. One of the blessings of the empty nest is the perspective to realize what a privilege it has always been to share homes and lives with our children. For 28 years we enjoyed that blessing. Thank you Britten, Will and Tracy--my honored guests.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
10 Things Women Can Learn from Watching Red Green
In my blog on quirky humor I mentioned that one of the factors that warped my children's sense of humor was allowing them to watch PBS. There are programs on PBS designed specifically to trick children into learning without realizing it, but there are also many revisionist, liberal, politically correct, greenie/weenie programs sponsored by left wingers who are rich but feel bad about it. PBS also offers haute faire dramatic presentations (mostly British), opera, ballet and other things rich people like to watch; although I think this is another attempt to atone for being rich. Middle class people like myself can enjoy PBS mysteries like Agatha Christie and Sherlock Holmes and some misguided souls even appreciate British comedies, which are far outside the warp factor of our family humor affliction. "The Red Green Show", however, is not a British comedy, it is a Canadian comedy, a redneck Canadian comedy, and our family appreciates rednecks. So for those who have faithfully followed the antics of the Possum Lodge members, I offer the following insights:
1. Men and women are different from one another and those differences should be celebrated--especially by the women.
2. Men are judged by their tools--and sometimes, executed by them.
3. With sufficient time and effort any household object can be improved enough to become dangerous.
4. The intended meaning of any word varies according to the perspective of the hearer. Harmonizing the two is a game.
5. All things can be mended, mutated or mangled by duct tape.
6. Handsome fades but handy makes things useless forever.
7. It is more difficult for men to say "I don't know" that "I am sorry" or "I love you".
8. You're not a misfit when you're with other misfits.
9. Give your husband credit for being smart enough to marry you.
10. We should pull for one another, we are all in this together.
1. Men and women are different from one another and those differences should be celebrated--especially by the women.
2. Men are judged by their tools--and sometimes, executed by them.
3. With sufficient time and effort any household object can be improved enough to become dangerous.
4. The intended meaning of any word varies according to the perspective of the hearer. Harmonizing the two is a game.
5. All things can be mended, mutated or mangled by duct tape.
6. Handsome fades but handy makes things useless forever.
7. It is more difficult for men to say "I don't know" that "I am sorry" or "I love you".
8. You're not a misfit when you're with other misfits.
9. Give your husband credit for being smart enough to marry you.
10. We should pull for one another, we are all in this together.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Homiletics Junkie
I admit to being a homiletics addict. No, it's not some kinky form of aerobics or "sexercise", it's a method of passage analysis I use to study the Bible. It's kind of like outlining backwards. Instead of starting with a topic and filling in main and sub points until you have a completed text, in homiletics you begin with the text as a whole and divide it into: context, divisions, subject sentence, aim and applications. When I first learned how to do this at a Bible Study Fellowship seminar, it was a very natural fit for me. My brain has been wired for homiletics all my life. It immediately loses the details and "shucks down to the cob" to find the main, important facts. All these years I thought I was just unobservant. Remember "Murder She Wrote", Jessica Fletcher would solve the murder by remembering some small, but significant detail. I will never catch a murderer unless they are covered with blood or waving a poster sized signed confession.
But the main reason I am addicted to homiletics is that it forces me to apply what I am learning about in any section of the Bible to my life. I have studied the Bible since I was a teenager and I know a lot about it, but it didn't change my life on a daily basis until I was in a Bible study whose questions challenged me not only to think about how to apply it, but to be willing to write it down and share it with others. The addiction has gotten so bad that I do homiletics of my own free will and can't enjoy my BSF questions until I have finished them. During the summer when BSF isn't meeting, my daily Bible study is doing homiletics on a chapter of whatever book I have chosen to study. I enjoy it so much, I am almost disappointed when I have to leave it to go back to BSF, to which I am also addicted. There are much worse addictions than these, of course, but most of the BSF leaders, who are required to do homiletics, don't enjoy them. The list of people like me, who do them of their own free will and consider them fun, is very small. I am thinking of forming a support group, but I'm afraid it would attract people who think it's a kinky form of exercise.
But the main reason I am addicted to homiletics is that it forces me to apply what I am learning about in any section of the Bible to my life. I have studied the Bible since I was a teenager and I know a lot about it, but it didn't change my life on a daily basis until I was in a Bible study whose questions challenged me not only to think about how to apply it, but to be willing to write it down and share it with others. The addiction has gotten so bad that I do homiletics of my own free will and can't enjoy my BSF questions until I have finished them. During the summer when BSF isn't meeting, my daily Bible study is doing homiletics on a chapter of whatever book I have chosen to study. I enjoy it so much, I am almost disappointed when I have to leave it to go back to BSF, to which I am also addicted. There are much worse addictions than these, of course, but most of the BSF leaders, who are required to do homiletics, don't enjoy them. The list of people like me, who do them of their own free will and consider them fun, is very small. I am thinking of forming a support group, but I'm afraid it would attract people who think it's a kinky form of exercise.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Why I Stopped Giving God Advice
If I were ever asked to give a devotional, oddly that seldom occurs, my topic would be "Why I Stopped Giving God Advice". The answer would be because He has never taken it. For many years my prayers consisted of worry + suggestions. I thought maybe God needed some coaching on how to answer prayer, so I would run a few ideas by Him. I thought they were splendid ideas. Apparently God did not because He has never once followed my suggestions, in fact, everything He has used to bring about the changes I prayed for are things that never would have occurred to me.
For instance, when I prayed that I wouldn't have a migraine on my daughter's wedding day, as I had for several days preceding it, I never expected God to give me a 24 hour stomach virus so I would have to rest and the extra rest prevented a migraine. Perhaps I hadn't been specific enough, I had been hoping for a miraculous migraine reprieve. Another spectacular "outside the box" answer to my prayer was when I prayed to be able to pay off the second mortgage on our house. It never would have occurred to me that on the night before the company my husband worked for sold, the former owner would get in a fight with the buyers, fire the whole department in which my husband worked, then rehire them, causing us to receive a severance package which we didn't need to live on, freeing up money to pay the second mortgage and then some. That scenario never crossed my mind.
Looking back on my 38 years as a Christian, the changes God has brought about in the people I love have always been in spite of me, not because of me. Not only am I not the Holy Spirit's little helper, I usually get in His way. God didn't use the Reader's Digest sweepstakes to pay off my college debt. God grew my husband in leadership through being on the school board, his job, and through Bible study; I didn't need to leave articles on his nightstand or books open to the appropriate pages. Nagging changes only me, and not in a good way. Yes, I would really like to preach the sermonettes floating around in my head, but if that was all that's needed, why don't they change me? Only God can bring about real, heartfelt changes and He does it in unimaginable ways. Groucho Marx said he wouldn't join a club that would accept him as a member, would I really want a God who would accept advice from me?
For instance, when I prayed that I wouldn't have a migraine on my daughter's wedding day, as I had for several days preceding it, I never expected God to give me a 24 hour stomach virus so I would have to rest and the extra rest prevented a migraine. Perhaps I hadn't been specific enough, I had been hoping for a miraculous migraine reprieve. Another spectacular "outside the box" answer to my prayer was when I prayed to be able to pay off the second mortgage on our house. It never would have occurred to me that on the night before the company my husband worked for sold, the former owner would get in a fight with the buyers, fire the whole department in which my husband worked, then rehire them, causing us to receive a severance package which we didn't need to live on, freeing up money to pay the second mortgage and then some. That scenario never crossed my mind.
Looking back on my 38 years as a Christian, the changes God has brought about in the people I love have always been in spite of me, not because of me. Not only am I not the Holy Spirit's little helper, I usually get in His way. God didn't use the Reader's Digest sweepstakes to pay off my college debt. God grew my husband in leadership through being on the school board, his job, and through Bible study; I didn't need to leave articles on his nightstand or books open to the appropriate pages. Nagging changes only me, and not in a good way. Yes, I would really like to preach the sermonettes floating around in my head, but if that was all that's needed, why don't they change me? Only God can bring about real, heartfelt changes and He does it in unimaginable ways. Groucho Marx said he wouldn't join a club that would accept him as a member, would I really want a God who would accept advice from me?
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