My Rights

"Rights are where survivors run when they can't handle relationship." says wisdom. "Survivors run to lies to protect them. Lies are a little fortress."

These are some quotes from the book "the shack". It is a fictional work and I try not to pull much theology out of fiction, but sometimes it strikes a deep chord with me and I know that Jesus is elbowing my ribs. "Did you see that? Yeah, that's you." It's a kind ribbing but even still it stings a bit.

I think a lot about my rights. It certainly helps that I was raised by some strong Women's Lib women (bitter man-eaters might be more accurate). This stuff is always tricky because you don't want to miss the central point that prompted the actions of the Women's Lib movement. A very cursory overview of history, makes a strong case that women have not been treated well as a general rule. My own mother made a lower wage at her job just because she was a woman. When she resigned, she was instantly offered the money she should have been making all along. Male chauvinism is not a manufactured ideal. It is very real and still lives a fat life in many cultures around the globe.

But what about my life? I am not my mother and I do not have to live my life waiting for every man to either use me or disrespect me or worse, abandon me. But I have enough of my own scars to make those very real fears. I'm not over-reacting or being a drama queen. Some men have really hurt me. My counselor would easily agree that as a child, I was a survivor and that is to my credit. But that credit comes at such a high cost now as an adult. I don't believe that God has called me to just survive and yet I can look back and see many, many days of just surviving.

Yuck! But this connection between rights and surviving is intriguing to me. As Americans, we are very "rights" oriented. Years ago (1992) there was a college student at Berkeley that went to class everyday naked. (He was called "the naked guy") He didn't like clothes, so he just showed up naked. It was on the news and he continued going to class everyday naked because he wasn't technically breaking any rules. However, during his second semester of nakedness, he was finally kicked off campus. Why? Because a female student filed a sexual harassment claim against him because she had to sit next to him in class while he was naked. This eventually prompted Berkeley to pass a law that you need to wear clothes. That is ridiculous! But it's a good example of how focused we are on our rights. He had the right to be naked until it infringed upon someone else's rights.

But, once again, what about my life? Jesus tells us over and over again we will find our life by loosing our life. He says to be the greatest is to be the least. He tells us we need to take up our cross daily and follow him. It goes on and on about how much it is not about us and how important a soft and pliable heart is to the Maker. That seems in stark comparison to someone demanding their rights. And yet, if you have never had a voice and you're feelings have been largely invalidated your entire life, do you even have a life to lay down? This new revelation helps me understand I've been living the Christian life largely by duty and obedience but without the peace that passes understanding. I get tastes of the peace sometimes. It is so sweet when the internal dialog in my head shuts up! But it seems so fleeting.

I had it for a few months this summer and I am fighting to get back there again. It's clear to me that I grew up believing I was a victim. (Probably because I was.) But I don't have to be anymore. But when all you have known is slavery, freedom doesn't really make much sense. If you have been blind your whole life and suddenly get your sight, you don't all of sudden understand everything you can see. In fact, a blind person will need to touch things and then make the association that this is what an apple looks like but he only knows that because he is touching it. The seeing world can barely grasp that idea because seeing is all we have known.

Galatians 5:1 is very clear:
It is for freedom that Christ has set us free.(A) Stand firm,(B) then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.(C

Christ has done the work. We are free on paper. But so were the Israelites and they needed 40 years in the desert with daily water, manna and quail directly from the hand of God to overcome 400 years of slavery in Egypt before they could walk in their freedom. Even once we take up this freedom we are commanded to stand firm because our natural tendency will be to go back. Go back to Egypt. Go back to the yoke of slavery. Go back to being a victim and just surviving.

"Survivors run to lies to protect themselves." I am not a victim, though sometimes I am victimized because the world is broken and my friends are sinners, just like me. "Rights are where survivors run when they can't handle relationship." Demanding my rights is not wrong or evil, but it may not be God's will. We see Paul being beaten and falsely imprisoned over and over again, but at one point he evokes his rights as a Roman citizen. Why just that one time? Why not use that right as a sledge hammer for every closed door? I don't know. But clearly there is a time to evoke our rights. I don't want to throw away concepts like fighting for equal pay for equal work, but I also don't want to mistrust and feel afraid of every man I work with.

But on a more personal level, I just want to follow Jesus. Only He knows when I am supposed to fight for my rights vs lay them down. Only He sees the ways I am dying to myself for the sake of unity and those I love. "My salvation, my Honor depend on God. Ps 62:7. I want to run to God, not my rights to protect me. I want to stay in the messiness of working through relationships (actually I don't, but by faith I am trying). But I also want to give myself the grace to do this really poorly. Because that's probably all I can actually do. It is a foreign language to me. I am much more comfortable with spreadsheets and project lists and linear thinking. These things, however, are not the building blocks of relationships.

But here is what I don't understand. I have a lot of friends who really love me and who I really love. So how did that happen? If the language of relationships feels that foreign to me, why am I so rich relationally? That is very confusing to me. Perhaps the topic of a future blog.

But for now, I will lay down my rights by my choice. No one takes them from me. I lay them down. This is what Jesus also modeled for us. He could have said no to the cross. He even asked for that option, but He chose to lay down His sinless life for me, a sinner. That is love. That is the kind of love I want in my life and the kind of love I want to give others. I have fought for my rights and the rights of others for many years. Sometimes I even win. But even when I win, I still don't feel at peace. Rights don't make you feel safe at night and rock you to sleep. but love does. When I let the love come and rest my head on my Savior's chest and stop fighting, I actually feel at peace. Initially it is often a sad peace, but it eventually turns to just peace. It's as if something has to die each time for me get back to the place of peace. Perhaps my castle metaphor is starting to reveal itself as a castle of rights. My rights have been my strong tower rather than my God. As we often say to our children when they seem to have the same problem come up over and over again "How's that working for you?" Not so good.

Today I will choose God.

Change

Have you ever woken up to the realization that the people you work with or spend time with are using different lenses than you to interpret the world around you? It's like one of you is playing chess and the other is playing checkers but you are using the same board. Seems like a really bad idea doesn't it? Well, you're right. It is.

What's helpful about the revelation is that you can look back and reinterpret a whole bunch of things that were hurtful or misunderstood. You finally get it! Most of the miscommunication is because you realize you have been working with different definitions, different goals and most importantly, different assumptions.

What hurts like hell, is the general feeling of having missed the boat for so long. It feels like embarrassment or shame. "How did I miss that?" "What a waste of time!"

But what is true? The world is always changing. No way to stop that. I know many elderly people lament how fast life changes and often they just give up trying to keep up. (They are the ones wearing 70's leisure suits at the diner at 4:30pm.) They are fine to just except what they can and can't do. My counselor has mentioned several times that I need to accept my own limitations (others limitations too in fact).

There is no way to always know. I hate to get blind-sided. Not sure why yet, but how can we ever truly safeguard ourselves from not getting blind-sided from time to time? It seems impossible if the world is changing all the time and we are changing all the time, and our circumstances are changing all the time. You can count on one thing; change.

So, like many things I wrestle with, is change good or bad? Counselors love those questions, because it's like you are doing their job for them. They just ask you the same question back. (I think I should be comped for those appts.) Because the answer reveals the problem. It is both. Change is never all good or all bad, it's always some of the both. We want absolutes when the world is full of fragments and situational ethics. There are absolutes. But as Chuck Swindoll says, "When I was a young man I had a long list of things that separated me from other believers. Now it is a very short list."

So what do I do? I learn to live in the tension of not being able to always lean on rules and trusting God to walk me through it or, as in this case, bring revelation. Does God condemn me for taking too long to figure it out? No. Moses needed 80 years of prep to lead the people out of slavery, who needed 400 years to get ready and another 40 years in the desert to prep to enter the land promised long before that. He is clearly in no hurry and more than willing to administer the pain of waking up to reality in reasonable amounts. It still stings. Sometimes it breaks my heart, but even still I am able to stand again, eventually. He helps with that part of it too.

So when the arrows come that say "How stupid are you, to not have caught that by now?" I am confident Jesus is not talking to me. It might be my flesh or Satan or just the recording in my head of voices that have said those things to me, but it is not Jesus.

I need to hear Jesus' voice. I realize now, this is what worship does for me. I hear the voice of Jesus in worship. When I read the Scripture, it is a factual voice without much emotion or kindness. (Probably too many science books in college.) But when I listen to worship music and stare at the sunset, I hear and feel the love of my Savior. It permeates me and carries me and ushers forth my tears and deep heart that just needs some care and reassurance that He is with me and I will be ok.

Change happens. We get off the path sometimes. We are on the path and don't notice everyone else is on a different path. It happens. It's not the end of the world and there is always grace in the hands of a loving Father who is eager to take our hand and lead us. I will take His hand today and just sit here and rest for awhile as I recover from my wounds, self-inflicted or otherwise. He is in no hurry and that feels good. This one hurt me deeply and it may take me some time to recover. That's ok.

Pay attention to me

My husband and I have an inside joke from a Simpson's episode where Lisa does something that manages to capture everyone's attention. The scene has Lisa standing in the middle of the room with everyone staring at her in awe. Meanwhile Bart is darting around the room saying over and over again "I am Bart. Pay attention to me." So that is our code phrase when we feel lost or forgotten or the other one is daydreaming while we are talking. Usually I am the one talking and my husband is the one doing time travel calculations in his head. (Yeah, he is that guy!)

But more and more I am convicted about how much attention I constantly require. My greatest seasons of rest and peace are when this need is not screaming in my face. I think the key is to stand in awe of God. If you are in awe of God, then you are not endlessly thinking about yourself. That seems like an important piece to the puzzle.

Often I am reminded of the Israelites crossing the Red Sea. How did they not just stand completely in awe of that kind of power to part the Red Sea and rescue them in a hopeless situation? I am sure they were in awe as well, as they watched God bring down the waters on top of the most powerful army of the known world. I doubt very much anyone was grumbling or complaining while they crossed over on dry land through the walls of water. But what amazes me more is that they were back to grumbling and complaining only 3 days later when they did not have water in the desert. But the truth is that I am an Israelite too.

My memory is so short and I am quick to exchange awe with self-pity. I hate it. I know there is an enemy that likes to remind me to go back to the mud pit and languish in self pity while I make bricks with mud and straw. But I don't have to go back there. I can live in awe of the God who parts the water, who draws water from a rock, who provides manna and quail from heaven and who provides a cloud to block the sun by day and a pillar of fire to light the way by night. But do we really have to be in the desert?

Another inside joke with my husband is from the movie Joe vs the Volcano. Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan jump into the volcano together towards the end of the movie to appease the volcano God. Meg says to Tom, "We'll just jump and we'll see." They are then blown out together into the ocean while the island sinks. Suddenly, Tom's ever faithful luggage pops out of the ocean, which saved him once already earlier in the story, and they climb aboard. Meg is overjoyed they are still alive but Tom says "I don't know, we're floating in the middle of the ocean." Her response is "It's always going to be something with you Joe." I feel like Joe (Tom Hanks), but I want to be like Meg. Because there will always be something! That is life. There is always something that has the ability to steal your joy or destroy your peace. Love does not always win here. In fact fear seems to rule far too often even in believers hearts.

I have learned that there is never a good time to invest in your retirement. If you wait until it's a good time, it will never come and then you will be 65 and wonder what happened. Investing in your retirement is always a sacrifice. Investing time to marvel at God and the works of His hands is always a sacrifice. Our flesh will never be godly. We will always want to sleep in longer or watch tv or buy that candy bar, etc. We need the Lord to help us love the Lord. That seems crazy to me, but that is our reality. I keep thinking this is going to get easier. I will just wake up one morning and be other's oriented and selfless in my actions and never feel used again or grumpy. Why? The attacks of Satan alone should be all I need, to know life will be hard. Not every minute, but most minutes and my flesh will only continue to decay and ask more of me.

I recently finished the book "Tramp for the Lord" by Corrie Ten Boom. It is an absolutely wonderful book about God's provision and a life fully surrendered to God. But what encouraged me the most were not all the miracles God did for Corrie, but rather how she was just a normal person who saw God do amazing things and still doubted. She is an Israelite too. Here is a woman rescued from the gas chambers of Nazi Germany and she still wondered if God would come through for her as she got older. I take a surprising amount of comfort in that fact. I am not alone or strange or ungodly. I am human and normal and a sinner in need of a Savior. Praise God he has provided us with one.

So I spend most days battling with feeling largely undervalued and invisible. But I know the scriptures well enough and have known my God long enough to know that I am both valuable and visible to Him. He sees it all. He knows the little things I do to love the people around me. He sees my sacrifices of time and the small ways I die to myself for the sake of others. He is proud of me. He enjoys me and I make Him smile. As Brennan Manning says "God is particularly fond of me." I like that and hopefully as I get older I will be able to run to that place more quickly verses the mud pit. As Meg would say, "We will just jump and we'll see." How do you describe faith any better than that?

Finding my voice

Depending on what you read, many counselors will say that kids from dysfunctional homes learn two rules. Don't talk and Don't feel. You actually learn all kinds of other rules too, like don't wake up mom on Christmas morning unless you want to get hit! But the "don't talk and don't feel" rules are so broad and all-encompassing that most everything fits underneath those headings.

But think about that for a moment. A child who does not talk or feel. You and I would take that child to a specialist fearful that something terrible had happened to them. I actually had an experience with a child like that a number of years ago. I was delivering pizzas to a trailer with a very messy yard. A petite woman answered the door looking around in a very paranoid manner. She proceeded to pull out a huge wad of cash and pay for the small order. That was my first visit. It was creepy and something wasn't right, but I had seen stuff like that before. On my second visit, however, there was a little girl, no more than 3 years old, standing in the window. Her eyes were vacant and there was no life in her.

Please understand that delivering pizza's might be the closest thing to becoming Santa Claus! Kids loved me when I show up with pizza. They could barely contain themselves. More than once a kid would take the pizza from me and leave me standing at the door waiting for someone to come pay me. But this little girl had no response at all. She was like a ghost. The mother appeared again with the same paranoid look and the same wad of cash. As I left, the little girl put her nose against the window and just stared at me. While I was driving away, I wept bitterly and wasn't sure I could even finish the rest of my shift. Everything in me wanted to bust down the door and just whisk her away for a bath and some ice cream.

If that is my heart for a little girl I don't even know, why is it so hard to give my heart the time and space it needs to learn these two cornerstones of life? Are we even alive if we don't talk or feel? When I meet these people now I see them as asleep. I think many Christians are asleep and have simply traded their non-chrisitan sorrow for christian sorrow. For a long time I think I traded my sorrows for rules and performance. Who does that sound like? I understand why the Pharisees did all they could to hold on to their positions. It made them feel important and safe.

When my kids and I would read through the gospels together during homeschooling, we would always laugh when we saw the Pharisees trying to trick Jesus. Seriously? Trick the creator of the universe? It was ridiculous to us. Jesus had harsh words for the Pharisees but He never just destroyed them. He could have you know. With one word he could have called down a band of angels to wipe out all of them. But He didn't. The fact I even think that way is a tip off to my own Pharisee heart that elevates justice over love. But Jesus even loved the Pharisees. I am thankful for that now.

So only in recent years have I really started to feel and finding my voice is even more new to me. But the process is so messy. Legalism is so clean. I miss it. Legalism allows you to call some people bad and other people good. There is a clear enemy, like the New England Patriots or Michigan or Notre Dame! Ok, ok. But life is messy. Good men preside over evil systems sometimes. Bad men are used by God to advance His cause. The righteous are killed for doing what is right. Legalism can not explain any of these things.

My goal when teaching history to my children was to warn them of over-simplfying the past. Wars are rarely good vs evil. Mankind is so agenda driven and bent on self- protection. That is one of the most beautiful attributes of God to me; His selflessness. It is the part of the gospel that always makes me cry. "While were yet sinners, Christ died for us. The righteous for the unrighteous, to bring you to God." Why do I fight a love like that?

So back to finding my voice. It's messy. I don't like it. But without my voice who am I? Perhaps that is why I started writing. This seems like a good medium to wrestle with some things. To try out my voice. To see if I really do make sense and have something worth saying. However, if I am made in the image of God, and I am, then it stands to reason, I have something to say. And, if the God of the universe came to earth and died for me, which He did, then it stands to reason, it might even be important.

46 and counting

I turn 46 today. Happy Birthday to me.

So does that mean she is excited or depressed about turning 46? I can't really tell due to the lack of punctuation in the sentence.

Well the answer is yes. I heard once that our 40's are like a fork in the road where we decide how we are going to play out the rest of our days. I definitely feel that. I've spent a great deal of time over the past year or so reflecting on how I got here, where I am at and what God has done in my life.

The big picture is simple. I started in a dysfunctional family with an alcoholic father and raging mother. Together they always seemed to be behind the eight ball in life. My brother and I fought non-stop unless we were making our parents laugh and our childhood consisted of endless babysitters as my parent's were always strapped for cash and thus always working.

By High School, I was done with people. I pulled back and just got mad at the world. I hated being lonely, but it was better than trying to figure out relationships any more. I found my value in school, athletics and music. God was never in the picture.

By College, I was an atheist getting a degree in Evolution. Soon after arriving on campus, I found rugby. What a wonderful sport! You actually get to tackle people over and over again. It was a satifying outlet for my love for sports and unresolved anger issues. On the rugby team I also found the gay world. Initially I thought "to each his own." But over time I came to enjoy that world. Eventually I embraced it as I fell in love with a girl and gave her my heart.

I remember how wonderful it all felt. It seemed as if my lonely heart had finally found a place to belong and there was joy in life for a change. My few friends seemed cool with the gay stuff so I dove in head first.

And then came Jesus.

The girl I fell in love with was gay and a Christian. Ok. My best friend in college became a Christian and I saw her life change. Interesting. I met some Christians at a concert and actually enjoyed them and started hanging out with them. I see a pattern. Suddenly I was surrounded by Christians and I don't even know when it happened!

But then I started reading the bible in order to answer some of my own questions about this Jesus guy they were all talking about. I was stunned. Jesus Christ was a swear word in my house growing up, not a loving, good man who died on my behalf so that I might have a chance to find love too. I didn't know that guy. But I began to meet Him through these people and through this book. Over night, the natural world around me suddenly took on a whole different feel as I saw how much I stood in awe of the creation and yet had never given credit to the creator.

So one day in a car ride home, I broke down crying, asked Jesus to forgive me and stopped running away. That's what it felt like. I had this big plan for my life to save the panda bears and get as far away from people as possible and Jesus changed everything.

26 years later I stand here a mom with 4 kids, married for 21 years, and having been active in Christian ministry for most all of those 26 years. My parents have come to Jesus; my brother is close. My grandmother repented just before she died and received the love of God. I have an unbelievable number of good friends and have gone from a lonely, lost young woman to an abundantly blessed, well cared for and loved middle aged woman.

But the road has been damn hard.

I would like to see a follow up on Cinderella after the honeymoon. How did she stop acting like a slave and really step into being the princess? That process has been such a mystery to me. All I really know is that God gives us a counselor to walk with us along the way and I have tried as best I knew how at the time to listen for Him. Life is so messy and it feels like a continual clean up job most of the time. I want the world to be black and white. I love that 2 + 2 = 4 everyday, all the time, forever. I want life to play by the rules. But it really doesn't. I wish it did and I've spent a long time trying to bend it to the rules, but it will not work.

So I am 46 today and I have been standing at a fork in the road. I just can't look at the big picture and not see the amazing blessings in my life. Looking into the eyes of even one of my kids is all I need to know God loves me. But the road has been so hard at times that I am depressed to think that's all there is to do for another 30-40 years. But that is where the fork comes in.

Maybe its not all striving. I seem to remember a verse about cease striving and know that He is God. To me that means, just do my job and let Him do His job. I'm learning He is in charge of a lot more than I thought. I like that now though it used to scare me because I wasn't sure I could trust Him. But trust is coming easier these days as I see this bigger picture more and more. Perhaps the next 30-40 years could be a lot more awe and joy and being enjoyed. I would like that. Lets take that path. I know there will still be pain, but perhaps by trusting God more I will see His goodness in the land of the living.

I would like that.

Belittling Your Pain

I have a friend who often compares her current pain or troubles to the woman in Africa who is watching her child starve to death. The logic is “Well my pain is not as bad as her pain, so why am I complaining so much?” Her counselor’s response to this repeating pattern has been “Are we back in Africa again?” Why do we do this? Why do we belittle our pain? I am guilty of the same thing a thousand times over.

As with many things, there is a small nugget of truth there. My life is immensely better than so many people around me. I am exceedingly blessed in countless ways. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t been hurt or I don’t feel pain. Just because my pain is of a different nature than the woman in Africa, doesn’t mean my heart is not assaulted and broken on a regular basis. So the logic alone, carried out, would give me enough reason to call my pain legitimate. So why do we belittle it then?

Perhaps it’s because then we don’t have to deal with it. Minimizing things can be a very effective short term coping mechanism. Of course things tend to pile up and there will eventually be a great explosion or melt down depending on your personality.

Perhaps we belittle our pain because we think it's godly or the Christian thing to do. I have often confused martyrdom and being called to sacrifice. My mom was a martyr and I hated it as a kid. It looked so noble to the world, but I knew as a child who always felt missed and ignored, it was just her way of making everything about herself and not me. I was pushed upfront, but the martyr role gave her the glory and honor. Honestly, I would have been fine to give her the glory if I had felt it was really about me and not just about her living vicariously through me. Perhaps this is why I struggle with and am very sensitive to feeling used even today.

But back to pain.

Recently I was talking to a high school senior who is new to Jesus and is waking up to the ways he has been controlling his life. He has had a tough upbringing and to be honest he has had to fend for himself quite a bit and is no stranger to pain. But recently he was convicted by a Christmas message that challenged us to examine where we are being self-reliant. All of a sudden he could see it all over his life. But as we talked about it, I was struck with my own self-reliant tendencies as well. At one point he just yelled out, “I just don’t like pain!” It was so beautifully honest. Who does like pain?

As a child, I felt like I was very much on my own as well. I built forts to find safety and really, really liked being in charge. (My brother says I was bossy. . . or a pain in the ass, pick one) But I wanted to be in control because then I could protect myself or perhaps minimize the amount of pain in my life. But what has become clear to me as an adult, is that control is only an illusion. Self-reliant people are just people who live at a distance from others and accept a smaller portion of life. I know because I’ve been one of them most of my life. I built forts as a kid and I’ve built huge castle walls around my heart as an adult. But what protects you also cuts you off from what you need. Love.

As children, it was probably a good idea to be self-reliant. It may have even been necessary for your survival. That’s not your fault. We have laws in place to protect children because as a society we don’t expect them to be able to protect themselves. The problem for many of us though, is that we keep our childhood friend of self-reliance and he is like a crazy watch dog that runs everyone off that might be able to help us or even love us. We may feel a measure of safety at the end of the day, but at what cost?

I’ve used all these techniques and I am sure I still do. Minimize or belittle the pain. Just be thankful and the pain will melt away or become smaller. Take control, and bend the pain to play by your rules. Get back into the castle and live behind the wall so the pain can’t find you. Sadly, none of it works long term. I wish it did, but it doesn’t.

There is a saying in counseling that we make progress in our healing by walking through thresh-holds of fear. I dislike that very much, but have found it to be true in so many people’s stories. The thing you fear the most seems to be the place you end up and then Jesus shows up big.

My first child was born on her due date. Only 4% of kids are born on their due dates. But she was right on time which meant my water broke while I was sitting in church. The pastor bowed his head to pray and I felt the waterfall begin. As quickly as I could waddle to the bathroom, I headed up the aisle, leaking large amounts of fluid from my bottom area all the way.

Initially it was funny. I laughed and laughed in the bathroom. But then no one came to help me and I got mad. The conversation went like this: “Ok God. Very funny! Public humiliation is not a good time for me, but I’m getting used to it, but now you need to send someone in here to help me!” Every time I moved the waterfall began again. I could not stand up without gushing everywhere. Of course eventually someone came and everything went into high gear.

This was my first child so there was no template, but something didn’t seem quite right. I was leaking, and it smelled terrible, but I was not going into labor. So once we arrived at the hospital, I really just had to wait for my body to kick in. But it never did.

I had only asked the Lord for one thing when I was pregnant. No needles. Do not make this a needle fest. I had had some bad surgeries as a kid and they scarred me on many levels and all that fear went into needles. I’m not sure what a panic attack is but I am pretty sure I was in the ballpark anytime I was around needles.

So when the doctor finally decided we could wait no longer for fear of infection, it was time for all the needles. I remember crying not just out of fear, but also feeling so abandoned by the Lord. “This is all I asked for Lord; just this one thing.” He knew how afraid I was. Why would He let this happen? I was devastated.

So I was induced and it was a very long and difficult, 10-hour labor that I don’t even know how I got through. Afterwards, I felt like I had been hit by a bus. (This is not everyone’s experience when they are induced. Some women love it.) But as much as my body hurt, my heart hurt more. My God had forsaken me and left me at the threshold of my fear. But I walked through it and was rewarded with something amazing; Sarah. I honestly don’t know if I would have ever been able to even take a step in this area if the reward would have been anything less.

When it was time for my second child to be born, we were right back in the same place. I got to skip the water breaking in church part of the evening, but I had to be induced again because she just would not work with the program. This time I was in labor for 4 hours and making no progress. God spoke to me right there and asked me to take the next step in this area of fear and get an epideral. That is the biggest, scariest needle they have besides EMT heart needles. They put the epideral needle right in your spine and tell you not to move. But I remember the release of fear at that moment. It was a step of faith and trust for me that my God knew what He was doing even if it scared the crap out of me. My reward, Rachel, was born less than 25 minutes later. I vomited a lot and couldn’t stand up straight for a few days, but the fear of needles was gone.

During my pregnancy with David, I would occasionally have moments of panic because I just didn’t want another baby forced out of me like the girls were. For me, being induced was man’s rendition of labor and it got the job done, but in a seemingly crude way. We had always talked about having 4 kids, but I was confident that if this labor wasn’t different, there would be no number 4.

I made some changes on my end. I found a CNM to be my primary caregiver. They gave me more options for labor. I used every wives tale home remedy to try and induce labor. One week after David was due, he was still swimming around in there and we were running out of food in the house waiting for him to arrive. So I went big shopping. It was quite a sight! I was a very big pregnant woman pushing a very large and very full grocery cart. I took a friend just in case we got to repeat the water breaking in public portion again. At one point I came around a corner and the woman in front of me gasped out loud and asked if I was ok. I like to think of it as the equivalent of the marathon I will never actually run in this lifetime. And it worked.

I went into labor that night and got through the entire thing without any needles at all. This experience was so profoundly different from the man made version of labor. I actually fell asleep between contractions because I was so tired and spent, but also so peaceful and at rest. I know that pain in childbirth was part of the curse, but it still has the kindness of God associated with it. The man made version was harsh and demanding for me. But God’s version was painful and yet kind somehow all at the same time. I was thanking God for our 4th child, John, even while I was being cleaned up from the labor of my 3rd child, David.

By the time John rolled around, I ended up having a C-section because he was just a butterball doing gymnastics in my belly. He came out at 10 lbs. 13 ozs so I was fine to not deliver him the old fashioned way. But the surgery did not traumatize me at all. God had broken a stronghold in my life and in the meantime given me 4 beautiful and amazing children.

Before John was born, Rachel was hospitalized at the age of almost 3 with mysterious vomiting and dehydration issues while we were in CO for the summer. It was a very scary time for both Joel and I. The ER staff had to work very hard to get a needle into her due to the dehydration. As hard as it was to get through those 3 days of a delirious, gaunt child who didn’t know who I was, I can’t imagine how I would have made it with my previous fear of needles and hospitals. God had seen our future and helped me with my own fears so I could be there for my own child in her fear. I consider that a great blessing looking back and a kindness from God even though I did not understand what he was doing at the time.

God’s goals are not our goals. His ways are not our ways. Often, I just want to minimize the pain. I’ve spent my whole life wanting to minimize the pain through my arsenal of weapons. But life hurts. There is no way to stop that train. I have often believed the idea that if God is good then bad things should not happen to me. So if bad things happen, then God is not good. Logic. But you could also say if God is good then we should not die. But we know everyone dies. No one escapes death. Jesus died. But He beat death and rose again. This is God’s pattern. He doesn’t take away death; He overcomes it. God does not always take away pain and fear; He overcomes it.

But at the end of the day all I really want is just less pain. God, however, wants me to have freedom from fear. Often freedom is found by way of pain. Any parent will tell you that pain is an excellent teacher. As a parent you are often wrestling with how much pain do you let your children experience? Little kids like to touch things. Its how they learn. They are very tactile. But you have to teach them not to touch the stove or fire. They have to obey and trust you if they are not going to get burned. But some kids will get burned and that is the way they learn. Your entire nervous system is created with this blueprint. That is why we have reactions and fine nerve endings in our extremities. When you feel pain, you move your hand before your head can even process the event. It’s a "built by God" protection mechanism that works when you administer pain to it. Pain has a work to do in us.

But understand that God takes no delight in watching his children suffer. I have struggled to watch my kids get all their many immunization shots over the years. They can be very painful and at certain check ups you need 3 to 4 shots at one time. But I am also very thankful they will never deal with Polio and Measels and Mumps. These are deadly, painful diseases and shots are a small price to pay. But tell that to a 6 month old baby. They look at you like, “Why? Why would you let them do that to me?” It is so sad to watch as a parent. But we have the bigger picture and we ask our children to trust us in those times because the pain being administered is for their ultimate good not harm.

But immunizations are just the beginning of pain for your kids. I’ve homeschooled my kids most of their schooling years, but we knew they would need to make the transition to public school at some point. Our first daughter went into school in 8th grade. It was wonderful and terrible all at the same time. She loved making new friends and then was devastated when they betrayed her. In those moments, you feel so helpless as a parent and you want to go chew someone out or just pull your kid back into your home away from the cruel world, but you can’t or I suppose you can but you shouldn’t. I asked God many times if we could just make it stop but he gave us no green light.

We did what we could to help. She was being bullied on the bus so we just drove her into school for a while. Eventually things changed and she was able to take the bus again. But we were never able to just bring her back home, though my heart really wanted to. She was doing fine with the academics and extra curricular stuff, but the peer relationships were so wounding and sadly, especially other Christian kids.

Watching your kids loose their innocence is so painful as a parent. They believe in people and when they are betrayed they are so hurt. But isn’t that life lesson as important to learn as multiplication? Sarah brought home her pain and new bad words and the sarcasm she used to protect herself and afflicted our family with them. It was miserable. She was hurting and to be honest she hurt us even as we tried to help her in the pain.

I spent a month after her 8th grade year just mourning the loss of my little girl. I didn’t want to spend time with friends and I had trouble not feeling like a total failure as a parent. I was mad at God for what seemed like too much pain being administered to a sweet young girl. I also felt that all the love and care we had spent 12 years pouring into her had been undone and thrown to the curb in one year of public school.

But I look back now and I see a passionate young woman trying to figure it all out while pendulum swinging through it. That would describe my life pretty well too. In my ideal world, I make small gradual changes and slowly work towards the ideal understanding of relationships. Not a chance. In reaity, I swing wildly and pass through the ideal area for a while on my way out. Like driving through a town that is so small I keep missing my turn off and have to drive past it 3 or 4 times before I see the road.

But God is so efficient in his use of pain. He took Sarah’s pain and instructed all of us. My husband and I had to seek God on her behalf and it caused us to look deeper into our own lives and parenting. Our other 3 kids watched and learned from a distance and their transitions have been very different than hers. Not easy, but certainly not as hard.

I was also struck during the process that I don’t know what God has planned for my kids later in life. I don’t know what He is preparing them for and I don’t know the roads he will ask them to walk. I don’t know whom they were created to love and care for over the course of their lives. I don’t even know how long I get to be with them here on earth. I understand that God and I are on a journey together. So it makes sense that my kids are on their own journey with God too and I need to trust Him with their journeys as much as I do my own. (Same principle applies to husbands – believe it or not.)

So pain is either a friend or an enemy. The verses in James about considering it pure joy when you experience trials of various kinds make a bit more sense if we see pain as a friend who has come to do the deeper work. There are plenty of physical analogies all around us. Dental work comes to mind. I’ve had a root canal. It is crazy painful, but an abscessed tooth is off the pain chart. Will we accept pain from the hand of God as a gift from a good God who is working from a bigger picture and knows what lies ahead? Do we believe that He is only doing what He needs to so we can feel loved? Can we accept that He may even be trying to protect us by allowing pain in our lives? Does the presence of pain in our lives mean that God does not love us or perhaps that He does love us?

I am starting to learn that pain, is not the enemy. The enemy is Satan and he tries to use pain to drive us away from God. But the bible is full of stories of God using pain to direct and teach His people and even protect them.

Recently I’ve been very taken in by John 9. Jesus heals the blind man but by the end of the day, the once blind man has also been betrayed by his own parents and the Sanhedrin has called him names and thrown him out into the street. So was that a good day? But what happens next is so beautiful to me. Jesus finds the man at the end of the day. He ministers to him and reveals himself to him and grants him eternal life. But why did he have to spend most of his life in blindness? Why did he have to be disowned by his parents and afflicted by the religious authorities? Where was Jesus when all that was happening?

My child’s heart wants there to be no more sorrow and no more pain. But I am not a child. I know that pain is part of our reality and no one will escape it while here on earth. So the blind man’s story speaks to this idea that pain has a necessary work to do and that God’s goals are not our goals. He works within the reality of pain. Clearly He is able to stop pain. He gave the blind man back his sight. He has the power to intervene. As a parent, often we do as well, but we are aware of the bigger picture and a loving parent will endure the pain of watching their child suffer for a short time and not intervene in hopes that the greater pain will be avoided.

This is what Jesus is doing with the blind man. He allows the pain to play out and then comes to him in the end to offer him the greater treasure of a relationship with Himself. Jesus alone will truly satisfy the man’s deepest desire. I’m sure the blind man spent his whole life assuming that if he could just see, everything would be better. Well that was not true and Jesus showed him that very quickly within just one day’s events. So it is with us. We spend enormous amounts of time trying to figure out what will make us happy and running after it, only to find it does not truly satisfy. Relationships, kids, losing weight, money, respect, honor, security are all enticing words. But they do not satisfy in themselves. Only Jesus will satisfy our deepest longing to be unconditionally loved.

Jesus tells his disciples in John 9 that the man was born blind so that God’s glory might be revealed. So was His glory revealed when the man received his sight or when he worshiped Jesus and came into a relationship with Him and received eternal life? Our earthly focus says when the pain stopped and he was no longer blind. But God’s heavenly perspective says there are worse things than blindness and being healed is only a stop along the road that leads him to Jesus and eternal life with God. But the pain of the process was an important part of the journey as well. All of it was needed to give him what his heart needed the most – a life with Jesus.

So I have experienced a lot of pain. It is different from the woman in Africa and even the person sitting next to me in church. But it is my pain and it hurt and some days it still hurts. There are new pains entering into my life all the time and largely because I try to love the people around me. There is some truth to the idea that if you just stop loving than you may not be hurt as much. Loving others and hoping to be loved are very dangerous places to live if the goal is to minimize the pain.

My mother has Alzhiemers and there is pain with every conversation and every visit. That is only one type of pain in a list of many pains. But can I accept this pain from the hand of a loving God who has my best in mind? Can I believe that the God who healed the blind man can enter into my life at any time and make it all stop if that is what is best for me? When I was younger and had not seen my God do much for me, I could not believe these things. My faith was too weak and my God was too small. But God met me there and cared for me in ways I am only beginning to see now. So maybe now, as I’ve walked with God over time, I can believe those things. But probably only on days that end with y.

The Fear of Being Forgotten

When I was 8 or 9 years old, I started taking classical guitar lessons from a little shop in town with an old guy who smelled funny and was really boring. Needless to say, as a kid, I lost interest in my lessons very early on and generally disliked learning to play guitar. I rarely practiced and did not enjoy even being in the studio.

One day my father dropped me off and handed me $20 to pay for my $4 lesson. He made it clear he expected his change when he returned to pick me up. I remember being pretty overwhelmed with the idea of having $20 in my possession and I handled it with care.

After my lesson, I walked out to the truck and my dad immediately asked me for the change. To my horror, I could not find it anywhere. It was like it had just vanished into thin air. My dad was crazy mad and got out of the truck and demanded that I find it. I looked high and low, in the bushes and everywhere I knew to look, but to no avail.

What happened next became etched in my memory even to this day. My dad got back in his truck and said he wouldn't come back for me until I found the money. And then he drove away. I remember sitting on the steps of that dumpy little guitar shop, feeling completely destroyed. The importance of my life had been measured and I was worth $16. All I could do was sit there and cry. No one even noticed me while I wept on those steps.

Eventually my father came back and to be honest I can't even say how long he was gone. It may have only been 5-10 minutes, but it felt like hours to my broken heart. There was no apology, just a "Get in" . I didn't really want to play guitar anymore after that. I suppose that makes sense looking back.

Not long ago my counselor asked me what I did when I had needs as a child. I just looked at her for awhile because I actually did not understand the question. Eventually, all I could say was "I didn't?". Meaning "I had no needs as a child." Her response was "You did."

I have 4 kids of my own. I know how many needs kids have. They have them all the time, every day, many times a day. As a mom, I swear that's all I do sometimes is help my kids with their needs. So as I sat there, I had to really think about what I did when I was a kid. All I could come up with was, "I built forts.", and that is literally what I did. I always had a fort to retreat to when I was overwhelmed or hurt or lonely or felt forgotten.

I had a fort behind my bed, a fort in the back yard at both houses and eventually I turned the 80 acres of streams and woodlands behind my house, into my own private sanctuary when I was in high school. I saw myself as the self-appointed park ranger and I really did take good care of the place. I was out there as much as possible, no matter what time of the year it was. I loved fall the most, but even in winter, I was skating on the frozen pond. I had a purple golf cart that I widened the paths to accommodate. I even built a small bridge for it. It was my refuge.

When I went to college 4 hours away from home, even there, I would feel the call of the woods. Twice I left college right in the middle of the week because I was overwhelmed. I drove home and went out to the woods, just to think and be alone.

What I've realized is at some point in life, I grew tired of feeling forgotten and I chose to be alone rather than feel forgotten any longer. The truth of being endlessly shuffled from babysitter to babysitter can make you feel forgotten. Parents who are endlessly consumed with their own sin can make you feel forgotten. Or worse it can make you feel like a burden. But even my active steps to learn to enjoy being alone did not take away my general sense that "no one is really paying attention to me". "No one actually enjoys me enough to find me and just be with me."

I'm a 45 year old woman and I've spent the last year trying to answer those questions. Perhaps I've spent most of my life trying to answer those questions but only became aware of it recently. But God has been answering those questions for me through good friends, a growing husband, funny kids and long distance relationships.

My father has apologized but more than that he has been faithfully caring for my mother as she slowly descends into Alzhiemer's. I've told him that each day he remains faithful to her, restores a bit of my heart as well. He was not faithful to her in their marriage in more ways than one. But God has been transforming my Father and the proof is in his faithful and sacrificial actions now.

But perhaps God has been speaking to me all along as well? Even during the years at the babysitters houses. In 8th grade the guitar came back to me via a wonderful Christian man and at a time I may have felt more forgotten than anytime in my life. The bully in my face everyday made life completely miserable, but my parents lack of response may have wounded me more. But God brought back the guitar at that moment. This time it was folk guitar with music from Elvis and Johnny Cash. It was fun and alive and brought color into the dark places in my heart.

I see that time as when I actually learned to play guitar. The guitar's companionship is probably a good analogy to how I see the Lord. I loose it for a season, or get too busy, but I know it's always available to me and brings me joy, though re-initiating your calluses each time you pick it back up, is painful. It helps to just keep playing it, so you can keep your calluses and it gets easier to play with practice.

Jesus has walked with me all the way. I just didn't know what He looked like. I am not forgotten nor have I ever been forgotten by the Lord. I may feel lonely at times, but I am never alone.

From where does my help come from? It comes from the Lord.

When Love is Lying

I am a truth teller. All my life, even before Christ, I was going to tell you the truth, even it hurt. I think there is something beautiful about being willing to say hard things, but like many character qualities, there is a back side. Sometimes, I've used truth to protect myself. It allows me to hide behind the line "hey, I'm just telling you the truth," as if that absolves me of my responsibility to love.

I Cor 13: 1-3 is pretty clear that knowledge, prophecy and even the tongues of men and angels are not greater than love. So when is truth loving? John 1:14 tells us that Jesus was full of grace and truth. So truth has to be balanced and perhaps even metered out with grace. Proverbs 25:11 tells us that a word aptly spoken is like apples of gold in settings of silver. To aptly speak something is to find not only the right thing to say, but to consider the timing of when to say it as well.

I am not an advocate of avoiding hard things. I think a lot of hurt is doled out when we duck and cover to save our own ass. But can love manifest itself in lying? I even stumble over the ten commandments at that point. Do not bear false witness. It's all very complicated at best.

My mother is visiting with us this week. She has Alzheimer's and is completely dependent on us to accomplish even the simplest task of brushing her hair with her comb and not her toothbrush. Alzheimer's is a terrible disease that leaves it's victim more and more afraid and helpless as they become more disoriented. Short term memory becomes almost non-existent over time. They can laugh one moment and cry the next as fear seizes them.

Of course she is just visiting and to you and I that is by nature a temporary situation. But not to her. She seems fine and enjoying the grandkids and then suddenly, she cries and wants to go home. So because I love her, I tell her I will take her home tomorrow even though I am not going to take her home till next week. I am amazed how hard it is for me to lie to her. It feels like petting a dog the wrong way.

But it also reveals to me, my own fear of being lied to. I think a small voice has persistently told me over the course of my life that no one really likes me; they just put up with me. I have become aware of it because I ask my friends if they enjoy me sometimes. They always look as me strangely as if to say "Yes, duh!" but I am amazed how much I need to know the answer to that question. Becoming what God intended has required me to take the time to answer some of these gnawing questions, even if it means risking some strange looks. I will take strange looks over feeling lonely and unloved any day of the week.

So does God want us to lie? As a general rule; no. He is pretty clear about that, but will the occasion arise when lying is loving? Yes. This is probably why we were not only given the Word of God but the Holy Spirit as well to be our counselor. There always seems to be an exception to the rules. God doesn't want rigid rule followers. He wants soft, pliable hearts that will love no matter the cost.

Help me Jesus to love.

A Season of Recovery

I spent part of Father’s Day this year in a cemetery. A young man who has become very dear to us, needed a ride so he could spend some time with his dad. After we found the gravestone, I wandered off to give him some privacy and realized I hadn’t talked to my own dad yet. So I dialed the phone and when he said hello, all I could do was cry.

Episodes like this one have repeated themselves over and over this past year as I have been in a season of recovery. Mind you, I did not sign up for this season. It was clearly orchestrated by God. Last summer God told me to celebrate, so I did. My husband and I went to Paris to celebrate our 20th anniversary. My daughter and I had a big birthday party together called 1645 with live music and dancing. My friends helped throw me a retirement party for finishing up 12 years of homeschooling. Last summer was a blast!

But then the rain came. I blew out my knee in August and needed surgery. All my kids went to public school in the fall. My husband entered his 3rd year of a job that took far too much of his time. My mother’s Alzheimer’s started to progress more rapidly while my father’s health continued to be on the edge. And my 20 years in ministry had left some deep scars that just didn’t seem to be healing.

I found myself taking tests to see if I was burned out. Guess what? I was burned out, but there was still something in me that thought, “I can do this!”. But I couldn’t. I was physically hurt from the knee surgery and needed to just sit. My heart was so sad missing my kids, all I wanted to do was sleep away the pain. I go home monthly to help my family but it is such a mean disease to watch someone fade away in fear and yet I feel so powerless to make a difference. But to be honest, the scars of ministry took up most of my mental energy as I replayed scenarios over and over again, trying to figure out what went wrong and how to fix it all.

So God just totally shut me down by his own hand. I simply could not do much of anything and any worth still wrapped up in my service was decimated. But of course, that’s what God is usually after isn’t he? Total surrender. When my kids were little and I needed to tell them something important, I would say, “look at my eyes”. So here I was finally looking into my Savior’s eyes, while in tears, asking Him to please help me.

It is the kindness of the Lord that leads us to repentance. But it’s hard to believe that what I needed in the season of recovery was repentance. But it was the key. I had come to be very demanding and holding grudges as a way to ward off some of the endless pain of life, but it only left me more alone and ultimately with more pain. I had a long record of others wrongs and love keeps no record of wrongs. But God’s kindness wooed me to release the hurts.

He used my need to sit on the couch and rest to slow me down enough to enjoy the birds in my backyard. I love categorizing the natural world (nerd alert). Each bird was a joy to me. I had no energy to call friends, but they found me. I pulled largely out of ministry and life went on, amazingly. My father and brother and I have become very close as a result of the constant visits and need to care for my mother. My husband has made a job change so he can more present with our family. God took good care of my kids in school.

But through it all, there has been this endless wooing of Jesus that has simply said, “I am here with you and have been all along. I just needed you to slow down enough to see me and my endless expressions of love for you.” The peace I have longed for most of my life in Christ has been finally taking root and it feels real good.

When I finally found my voice in the cemetery that day, all I could say was “Hi Dad, I’m so glad you are still alive.” It was a funny Happy Father’s Day greeting, but the truth deeply penetrated my heart and I was so thankful he was even just alive. That’s been the big change. I can see and feel my blessings. They have been there the whole time but the pain just kept me in bondage. Repentance has released me from that bondage.

The pain of life is real and it really hurts. But God’s kindness is all around us all the time. My prayer is that you will not only see it today but feel it, so he can care for your heart as well.

Coming Home

Reconciliation is sweet and it's worth fighting for. But that isn't how it always comes about.

I don't really know if time heals all wounds. I've seen my share of bitterness in my family and I can tell you that time can also make some wounds run deeper and take on a life of their own. But as I've gotten older I've also seen that time does heal some wounds because God is always helping us grow up.

The truth is that some wounds are so complicated and muddy that even if you wanted to and had amazing discernment and self-awareness, you still could not heal the wound yourself. But that's also the nature of reconciliation. It takes two willing parties. But once again, I've sat at the table with the willing party and tried to clean it up together and sometimes that works and sometimes is actually makes it worse.

I find that comforting and unsettling all at the same time. I certainly characterize myself as an overly responsible person. Much of my walk with God has been answering the simple question, "What am I responsible for?" Sadly, I've been way off on my understanding of what God intended and He has been slowly and gently redefining my understanding of His role versus mine in my life.

"Surrender the script" has been the Lord's quite whisper to me for some time now. However, that requires trusting the maker of the universe with my heart and future and, well, everything. Easier said than done. But even there He has been gentle and patient yet persistent to rescue me from myself. Sometimes I just want to be in control because I think I can do something better than those around me. (To be honest I probably can!) But other times, I think its my job and is part of being faithful to Christ. I have a deep desire to be found faithful and I think that honors God, but He is also committed to my freedom. Gal 5:1 - He knows the burdens of this life are too hard and heavy for us to carry so He is continually asking us to cast our cares on Him because He cares for us.

As a child, I think I spent a great deal of time waiting for help to come. I know this because the few times it did come, I remember vividly. Once, while driving home from college, my car would not change gears from 2nd to 3rd. It left me driving at 30 miles an hour which would have made my 4 hour trip home, 8 hours. I was trying to get home for an event I was singing at and was very distraught that I would miss it as a result of the transmission acting up. With panic in my voice, I called my Dad from the road and asked him what I could do to fix it. He made a recommendation and I followed it, but saw no immediate change in the car.

Back on the road I began to weep that I was going to miss the event and eventually conceded that my fate was sealed. As I cried and surrendered the script, God showed me how much I had been striving in multiple areas of my life and that I was a pretty mean task master to myself. I remember experiencing the relief of ending my striving and just letting life play out instead of trying to bend it to my will. Within 15 minutes of that revelation and freedom, the car shifted and I was back up to speed and going to make my event. I remember the tears of joy and being pretty impressed with God's way of teaching me.

But 2 hours later I was in for another surprise. As I neared home, I saw my father pass me on the road pulling a trailer behind him, clearly intending to load up my car and help me make my event. I was stunned. It was a beautiful rescue mission just for me and at a high cost to him. He was supposed to attend to a racing banquet that night to receive an award and recognition for his season. He had even purchased a new suit for the occasion. (That's a big step for my father the farmer/mechanic.) But here he was driving past me with a trailer in tow, sacrificing his own plans, to help me in my time of need. Again I wept and a broken place in me found some healing.

But those events were so rare for me as a kid that eventually I gave up believing help would ever come. In eighth grade I had a bully in my face all day, every day from the moment I stepped on the bus till the moment I got off the bus. Most of my evenings were given to replaying the days events in hopes of figuring out how to defend myself tomorrow more successfully. It was never physical, but the battle of words and public humiliation left me with a very sharp tongue and a deeply wounded heart by the end of the school year.

I remember thinking all year long, "Why isn't anyone helping me?' "How is it possible that no one has noticed what this boy is doing to me every day?" "Where will my help come from?" By the end of the year I was convinced that help would never come and I was on my own. My mom says that a wall went up in High School and she is right. In fact I spent the next 6 years reinforcing it, adding battlements, digging a moat and filling it with alligators. My heart was no longer available to anyone. I was simply done trusting anyone but myself.

(Understand that this bully doesn't get all the credit for my castle building. A foundation of disappointment, hurt, abandonment and wounding had already been laid by my own family. The bully just cemented the building permits.)

My battlements and alligators were sarcasm, belittling, arrogance, anger, annoyance, blame shifting, excellence, hard work, endless analysis and massive overachieving. These are all very effective attention diverters. If you can keep everyone focused on their issues or your achievements, then you don't have to bring your heart into the mix. Perfect! That is exactly what I wanted. It worked for years and has continued to be the place God and I have met to do battle. But be careful when you go to war with Jesus. He always wins the war, though he may let you win a few battles along the way.

Not long ago I had a vision of the status of my castle having followed the Lord 25 years now. It is pitiful. It looks like a relic with the walls in ruin and very few places to hide or take cover. No moat, only ireland-green grass with a light breeze at sunset. The battlements are in complete disrepair. I still hide behind the walls at times, but they provide terrible cover now. They are thin and there a lots of gaps in the wall. To be honest I just feel silly sitting there knowing I'm not really protected but rather I'm just going back to what's familiar to me when I feel afraid.

That is the God you serve. He will destroy your castle. Unlike people, He is not impressed with talents and techniques we use to hide our hearts. In fact I would go so far as to say He sees it as a challenge and He is always up for the task. He will fight for your heart and has been since He knit you together in your mother's womb. He knows your sadness, hurt, wounds, betrayals and abandonments. He has watched you construct your castle. To be honest, children need castles when they are not cared for well. God let you build that because you probably needed it as a child. But we are not children anymore and the castle that protected us then, will isolate us now. So he is committed to its dismantling as well.

My journey with God has been more like an epic battle than a stroll in the park. He has used every trick in the book. As I've reflected I've seen His tactics more clearly. During that eighth grade year with the bully also came a vibrant Christian music teacher who was full of life and affirmed me in so many ways. He and his wife were in a Christian rock band. They even recorded an album and gave it to a bunch of us kids. I can still remember some of the songs and I heard the Word of God in music before I ever read the bible. He also taught me how to play guitar which has been a great gift to me during the war.

God has used miracles, healing, pain, worst case scenarios, the love of a faithful man, the joy of children, the wounds of ministry, the salvations of my family, controlling leaders, little black dogs, and music to usher me into my freedom. Because at the end of the day, the last thing I want to do is win the epic battle. I don't want to be in charge. I've done it my whole life and it is exhausting. But the path has required trust and God knew that it would take a very long time for me to really trust again.

From where does my help come from? It comes from the Lord and always has.