Many people know your story…many people don’t…and part of life is learning who is safe to share these things with (and who isn’t). I’m more exclusive with who gets to hear about you, because that’s a privilege.
I looked at your dad last night & said, “Someday, it won’t hurt anymore….”
I don’t know if he heard me, but I keep thinking about that statement. I feel like it was more of God saying it to me than it was me saying it to your father.
Your brother asked about you the other day. He said he asked God if you were in Heaven when he was praying one night, & his History teacher inadvertently answered his question the next day. You’d be so proud of him—he’s so funny. He spoke his thoughts on the subject, & I shared mine. He also told me he didn’t think there were dogs in Heaven. Ma’am, I corrected him properly, because I KNOW you are playing with Holly “up” there!!!!
I shared that a day in God’s presence is as a thousand years on earth, & we’ve only been apart for 19 years. What is that for you? It aches for me, but you? You’re with Him.
I was speaking to a friend this morning & I mentioned that statement from last night along with, “We will be with so many people we miss…your mom, my grandma, etc. You know what we won’t be doing? We won’t be MISSING people…
Baby girl, I won’t miss missing you.
My heart explodes with that thought. What will it be like, to not have this missing piece in my heart anymore? To be whole, to be with you?
I honestly can’t imagine, but it absolutely brings such joy to my soul…I can’t help but to think how beautiful is the love of Jesus, to give us the gift of not only being in His presence & of being in & with His family, but the Gift of Reunion with each other! He gives us the gift of a completed puzzle, a completely restored wholeness without spot, wrinkle, crack, or break!
He gives us wholeness & He holds us…I’m so grateful.
Hannah-girl, I pass by the place you died every day now & in this season, I feel the ache. I also feel the longing & the hope for that reunion, & I’m encouraged to stay the course. Fall leaves point me towards grace that never ceases to pull the pieces back together until we see each other again & I am thankful for those that laid the foundation of faith I stand on…fall on…desperately cling to…
Happy 19th Birthday, Hannah Elizabeth Gayle Cooley…Your dad, your brother & I love you ferociously. You’re never far from my heart or mind, & I’m so thankful you are part of tapestry God is weaving in my life…
I’ll be the first to admit, forgiveness doesn’t come easily to me. Anyone who says it’s a linear process is lying or had an easy life (or wasn’t raised by an Italian, LOL).
Just when I think I’ve finally hit a place where I can say I’m free of the anger I’ve held against someone who wronged me, I’ll hear a rumor or learn something new, and gosh-darn-it, there I am again, mad as a wet hen & ready to throw hands. I usually find myself gritting my teeth as I pray, “And forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors,” as we see in Matthew 6.
I recently asked a friend of mine “do you think that’s supposed to be written that way? Is our forgiveness from Jesus contingent on how we forgive others, because if so, I am So Screwed.” She said she didn’t think so, because how impossible would that be?!?!? We’d never make it to Heaven. For all of our sakes, I hope that’s right.
When I left my last position in management, it wasn’t exactly by choice, but it was because of a mental health downward spiral of anxiety, anger, the bitterness of a former friend, & a complicated situation that became…well, I honestly think I can say it became abusive. A co-worker hurt me in a deep way, & I couldn’t separate the personal sabotage (some via self, some not) from my professional situation. I had to leave what I thought was my dream job, & it broke me in a way I hadn’t experienced before.
It was actually in retrospect, a deliverance (that’s a story for another time). However, one thing I continue to face is the ongoing struggle to forgive the person who broke my trust & put me in the position to need to resign. It’s at admittedly fewer frequencies now, almost a year later; but it’s still there. I’m finally at the point where I can pray for them & where I genuinely have compassion for them…but would I run them over if I had the chance? Possibly (just being honest. Not proud of it, but honest.)?
Do I laugh when I hear they’re having a hard time? Yes.
Do I laugh when other people they’ve done this to, say mean jokes? Yes.
I am NOT proud of this. I am struggling, & some days are easier than others. There are few people in my life that have hurt me/angered me that deeply, & I am limited in my experiences of having to forgive so much…
But then I am reminded of Matthew 18.
In Matthew 18, we learn about a man who had a massive debt to a king that he could never repay. The king ordered that his entire family be sold into slavery to repay the debt, & the man falls on his knees to beg for their forgiveness & freedom. He’s genuine, remorseful, and transparent in his desperation. The king is moved in his heart to forgive the man.
The man leaves the state of fear and imprisonment with undeniable freedom from his debt. He’s free! his family is free! The chains are gone! What does he do? Does he celebrate? Does he tell the world about the grace of the king who forgave him?
Nope.
He finds a friend who owes him like, $5, & gives him a beat down. He has his friend thrown in jail, & the servants in the king’s court find out about it. They go to the king and tell him what happened; the king is floored. He picks his jaw up off of the ground & calls his servants to drag the former debtor-turned-jerkface back before him. Although we have the cleaned up version of the text, I’d imagine it went something like this in the colloquial:
“ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?!? ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?!?! ARE YOU SERIOUS?!? DO YOU NOT SEE THE IRONY OF THIS SITUATION?!?!?! DO YOU HEAR THE WORDS THAT ARE COMING OUT OF MY MOUTH?!?!?!?!?!?!??
(Intonation is subjective, LOL.) The actual texts reads something like this:” ‘You wicked servant! I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me. 33 And should not you have had mercy on your fellow servant, as I had mercy on you?’ 34 And in anger his master delivered him to the jailers,[f] until he should pay all his debt.” (ESV)
There are a couple of interesting points to be made here:
The Obvious: The man was forgiven a HUGE debt–his family was even going to have to be sold into slavery to pay it back so this was a significant amount of money. He was going to lose everything he had. Have you ever been so far in debt that you knew there was no legal way out of it? Have you ever had to file for bankruptcy? It’s a devastating feeling of failure and shame–there’s nothing more gut-wrenching than to have to face your mistakes or the crumbling of your hopes & basically beg strangers to forgive you what you can’t pay back, knowing you could potentially lose the very roof over your head. It’s a horrible feeling, & this guy just had it all wiped away. He was free–more importantly, his FAMILY was free, & he had every reason in the world to celebrate in a huge way!
The Arrogance: He beat the holy crap out of the guy that owed him like, $5, and had him thrown into jail. He was insanely entitled, acting like he was too good for his own good, and refusing to extend a modicum of grace to whom he deemed unworthy.
The Comeuppance: The king’s flabbers were GASTED when he found out about the man’s actions to his “friend.” He couldn’t believe the man he had forgiven of so much, couldn’t do a fraction of the same to another human. He had him thrown in jail where he most likely rotted (who can pay anything back when they’re trapped in jail?!?) but do you know what it doesn’t say? It doesn’t say that the man’s FAMILY was thrown in jail. It doesn’t say the king took back their freedom, and we don’t know how they responded to the grace they had been given. I have to wonder what happened to them in this story. Did they recognize the gift that had been given to them? Did they share it with others? Did they realize what their husband/father had done? Do you think he ever truly repented for his entitlement? I have questions…and I have so, so much conviction.
God forgives us of our sins, freely…He died to pay the price for our sins, & He promises to let His Holy Spirit live within us to guide us to repentance. The Holy Spirit gives us discernment & acts as our moral compass in making the right choices. The Fruits of the Spirit (Love, Joy, Peace, Patience, Kindness, Faith, Gentleness, Self-Control, Galatians 5:23) are the things that we manifest in our lives when we’re walking closely to the Holy Spirit, and when we walk in forgiveness we get to see those things grow in a world that only wants to kill that harvest.
The world likes the fact that I wouldn’t be super angry if that former co-worker got hit by a bus. The world likes the fact that I have those thoughts & that I struggle to say, “God, forgive them as you have forgiven me. Help me forgive them as you have forgiven me. Forgive me while I wrestle with this, Lord–I am TRYING.” The world knows making jokes about their possible demise/termination/dive into a dumpster fire is way more fun than praying for them, right? But what does God say? He says to keep going on our journey to forgiveness.
Don’t beat up the person over $5 when you’ve been delivered out of spiritual bankruptcy.
I refuse to give up my inheritance in eternity over holding a grudge the size of a Value Meal.
This is difficult, friends. Some days are easier than others–again, it’s NOT linear, & it comes in waves. On Sunday, after I’ve sat in church & felt like I’m surrounded by like-minded people who worship the same God and have the same goals to “love Jesus & love people?” It’s so easy to say I forgive!!!!
On Friday, when the work week is long & I’m tired and frustrated? I’m just as likely to laugh at the thought of a tree falling on that person.
Forgiveness requires a constant discipline and focus on getting spiritually refueled and reminded of what we’re here for. We have been forgiven of so, so much—the Son of God died for us, to wipe away our sins & to love us for all eternity. What are these earthly offenses in the eyes of such love? What right do we have to hang on to them?!? What does it take, to remember what it cost Him to forgive us, verses what it costs us to forgive them? Our forgiveness cost Jesus EVERYTHING.
He says we are WORTH IT ALL.
To extend anything less than that to our fellow humans is to slap Him in the face and to say we’re better than His sacrifice.
OUCH.
Forgiveness requires support. This world is so crazy and anti-forgiveness, that I truly believe it requires us to be in a community of like-minded believers in Jesus to have the support that we need to forgive those that have hurt us. There’s far more people in this world that say “burn them down,” than say, “let it go.” When you offer to forgive someone, you often find yourself on the other end of someone else’s ire because they can’t see how you could possibly forgive that person for what they did. It’s because you know you’re not alone. You have the love of Jesus, and you have a group of believers you can take it to that will lift you up in prayer and walk with you through the process. You’re not extending an olive branch from a desert.
Forgiveness requires accountability. When you’re harboring anger or hurt against someone and you have those like-minded believers, they are responsible to lovingly hold you accountable. You’re responsible to admit that you’re struggling. You can’t have freedom in Jesus when you’re chained up in unforgiveness–you have to lay it down before Him. We don’t always see that ourselves. Sometimes it takes someone who loves us well enough to say, “Hey–I see you. You know what you’re doing isn’t right. Lay down your $5 anger and let Jesus wash you in His priceless forgiveness and freedom.” The person that loves you enough to hold you accountable like that, in love? What a gift they are in your life!! They love you too much to leave you in your debtor’s prison!!!
Far too often, we try to hold our brother or sister accountable & they respond in anger (the converse is also true). We live in a society that doesn’t value listening or critical thinking. Instead of hearing, “I love you enough to say this needs to be fixed,” we hear, “Well, you’re just wrong and you need to get over yourself.” I’m not going to say that it’s sometimes said that way–it is and I would know–but we’re generally not very good at accepting correction and/or accountability. We’d rather talk about all of the ways we’re right and how we were wronged, than to be humble & say, “You’re right. I’m harboring unforgiveness.”
I know I don’t like to hear it when I’m on the receiving end…and truthfully, I really don’t like to be on the telling end, because I know who I am and that I have NO ROOM to talk. How can I tell someone they need to extend forgiveness when I just joked about someone getting hit by a bus?!?!? I’m on the same struggle…but maybe that makes me even more accountable to have that hard conversation.
I’ve been in situations where I’ve tried to lovingly tell someone they needed to forgive, even when I didn’t have the whole story. It wasn’t received well; I was personally attacked, & it changed our relationship in ways I still grieve. It impacted my authenticity with them; however, it also drove me closer to God & to finding a body of believers I have consistent communion with in one way or another. I learned I can’t take that big of a leap without support. It’s really hard to have accountability when your village is 2-3 people. It tends to become a hive-mind situation rather than an iron-sharpening-iron situation that you get in a group, & it was a big lesson to me.
Forgiveness & accountability can cost you relationships & push you to walk in communities you were not expecting & didn’t know you needed. It can isolate you from the ones you thought had your back but it can also free you from the paralyzing constraints of feeling like you have to agree with everyone. When your circle of community is so small, you often feel like you have to agree in order to have peace. The goal isn’t peace (peace is a byproduct, a fruit); rather, the goal is GROWTH and without forgiveness? You’re dead in a cell somewhere.
Forgiveness is freedom and freedom is what fuels gratitude…gratitude begets love and love? Love makes all of the hard stuff worth it and then some. When we’re no longer chained down to what keeps us in a dungeon, we’re able to move upwards, to lift each other and to be propelled by the Holy Spirit. We have no strings tying us to worldly thoughts & prisons! There’s a translation of The Lord’s Prayer from Aramaic that I found so interesting: “And forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors ” refers to “releasing the tangled threads that bind us,” to let go of our seen and secret sins, as we forgive others of their seen and secret sins. I thought that was fascinating–I’ve been sewing more lately, & nothing is more frustrating than when the thread gets tangled and I have to undo everything I’ve just done. When you think about those threads being released, you get a visceral sense of the exhale you release when you’re done sorting it all out–that’s an image I’d never tied into the Lord’s Prayer before. Yet if you don’t untangle those threads and you try to keep sewing? You end up with a useless mess (& a lot of swearing, at least for me).
I guess if this post is to say anything, it’s to say that we have to #1, be in a community of other believers. I fight for it–I’ve seen the very best of how a Church can function (a body, not a building) & I know that community is how our relationship with God survives in this crazy world. #2, we need to hold each other accountable in the areas of forgiveness in particular, because these grudges and hurts we carry are keeping us spiritually imprisoned. Eventually, they’ll kill off the fruits of the Spirit in our lives & our walk with Jesus will go stagnant and moldy. And #3, we need to discipline ourselves to forgive wholeheartedly, even if it’s not a linear process. My Mama often reminds me to “Say it til’ you mean it.” I’m there–Every day when I pray for my own forgiveness, I pray that I will also forgive those that have sinned against me. I name them. I know the day will come when my compassion will be stirred to be bigger than my hurt, and I will be free of the anger that flares up when I hear their name. I’ll get there–I’m close (and then most likely, someone else will make The List).
There are BIG OFFENSES that we carry–people that hurt us, people that hurt our family, people that smeared our reputation or people who attacked us. We may even have encountered people that did or said terrible, murderous things….but We Have A Choice. We choose how big their impact will have on our spiritual life. Will we let them eclipse the freedom we have been given, the forgiveness Jesus has bestowed on us? Will we let them steal even more from us and take our joy? To keep us in chains?
Or will we lay them down, minute-by-minute, day-by-day, as often as the Holy Spirit brings the person before our thoughts, until our lip no longer curls up when we hear their name or think about what they did to us? Will we share our hurts with our community of believers and accept their support as we climb up out of our dungeons? Will we take the hand of accountability when it’s offered, to grow and become more & more like Jesus? Will we choose to love those who tried to break us, like He loves us in spite of how our sins broke Him? It doesn’t mean we become a doormat and welcome them back in to abuse us, but it DOES mean we take away their power to hold our thoughts and emotions captive. When we hear their name, we hear it how Jesus says it. When we say their name, we say it how Jesus says it, with the hope that they will hear His tender call to Him…when we give these things over to Him, He gives us His heart for those that have hurt us, His compassion and His mercy. He restores and renews all of the imprisoned places in us that have become gangrenous….He gives us new life in ways no one can ever take back.
When we choose to forgive, whatever it costs us in this world, will never be worth what we gain in the next. His love and His grace pour out freely on us, even as we struggle to share it with others…yet He gives it in abundance. He frees us, and He gives us what we need to walk out of the prisons of anger and resentment into His amazing grace…
I have a long way to go…but I’m GOING…and I hope we can all go into new areas of forgiveness, together. ❤
I was listening to a theologian today who said something like, “God is not a genie. What kind of power would He truly have if He were nothing more than a slave to our desires?” That’s a loose paraphrase from Brenna Blain, as she was interviewed by Lecrae on his podcast, “The Deep End.” Of course, this sent me down a rabbit hole…
I mean, what would it be like, if God was some kind of mystical genie? It makes me think of when I studied apologetics in high school & college, learning the various world views and a biblical response. Seeing the all-powerful, omniscient Being we know as the Creator of All reduced to a mystical vending machine for mankind–how sad is that? How dull & boring? And how difficult would that be for those of us who have experienced hardship or suffering–we didn’t get what we wanted from the Magical Mystical Vending Machine, so we must be hated by the heavens…
Sounds crazy, right?
But is it?
So many people live with resentment towards God because they didn’t get what they wanted…they prayed, they desired, they waited, fasted, prayed some more, but they didn’t. Get. What. They. Asked. For…So many people have been fed the lies of, “you have what you say,” or they laser-focus in on, “you have not because you ask not.” We live with mindsets that “bad” things that happen in our lives are a direct result of our own sin, & by consequence, if we could only be holy enough we’d be free of those things. We look at others; we see their beautiful homes or perfect families, & we think, “God loves them more because have you seen the thread count on their sheets?!?!”
We treat God like He is dependent on us & our requests or comfort, instead of being wholly dependent on Him…
We look at the things around us, in front of us, online, etc., as indicators of His love or grace and as reflections of our own unworthiness or intellect.
We grow increasingly resentful of those who have it “easier” by our perceptions, & at some point, we rage at God because our lives don’t look like theirs…and we sit in judgment of God Himself.
I say “we” because I do this, myself. I try not to, but there are times when I will unplug from social media because the vacations I see families going on, hurt. The houses I see people living in, hurt. My jealousy is a real issue, & it’s taken years to get to a point where I recognize it as it seeps in. I have to discipline myself to physically back away from the things that expose me to it. It’s almost addicting–I like the catty comments and snobby zings I say to myself when I see someone post something I’d like to have/eat/do/drive. I like the snarky inner-Mean Girl that comes out when I’m being Petty Betty on the phone with a certain friend. I’m sarcastic & shady, & it’s funny…but is it Godly? Um….nope. It’s not just the jealousy that’s ungodly…it’s the fact that at it’s best, this jealousy is unwarranted. At it’s worst, it makes me look at God & ask Him why am I not good enough for THAT kind of lifestyle? For that kind of blessing?!?
I get focused on and jealous of the wrong things, & in doing so, I put God in the box of being a Magical, Mystical Vending Machine…
Y’all know my story–I’ve been through some stuff, & there are times when I have wrestled with the “why” to the point that I have a perpetually broken hip. I came to a point when I realized there were no guarantees that we will have any kind of understanding on this side of Heaven. It’s humanism–it’s a sense of entitlement, to think that we have to have all of the answers behind what happens, or that we deserve to know. A friend of mine said the other day that “if we had understanding, we wouldn’t need faith.”
WOW.
When we have understanding of things, we rationalize; we predict. We figure out how we can do it ourselves, & we write God out of the equation–we say in so many words, “what do we need You for? We got this.” We depend on ourselves for solutions & provisions instead of running full-throttle into His arms. When we don’t find those solutions? When we don’t get what we want? Instead of blaming ourselves for losing focus on Him, we put BLAME on Him…
I hear people criticize Christianity with statements like, “if God is real, why do bad things happen to good people?” We want an answer–I mean, let’s be real, I want an answer to that question. People die–children die, people get sick, pets die–we live in a broken world that is physically & spiritually cancerous, filled with toxicity & generations-upon-generations of darkness. We expect to have human, physical bodies that get 100% Divine Protection because we’re covered under the Blood of Jesus, but that’s not written anywhere. We’re spiritually Children of God, but for now, we still live in this physical world. That has consequences (BTW, the AI response to, “Does God Protect Us from Sickness? is fascinating) even if we live as cleanly as possible. We’re only promised a life free of sickness and death in Heaven (Revelations 21:4).
I know I’ve written about this before, but I really feel like this year, God is reiterating that this world is not the place to get comfortable (I almost got really transparent here about what I’d rather be doing that is comfortable but I didn’t want to get clocked, LOL). This world is ill…it’s a poison that we’ve all taken in, and the longer we’re here, the more we’re comfortable drinking it up. The endless journey we’re on to “look here,” or “look here” leads us to a life that’s jealous, empty and unsatisfied. We keep drinking but we’re never full until we meet the Living Water of Jesus…and when we sober up, we see how many people are still around us, drunk off of ego, envy and hollow goals.
I was raised with a certain kind of prosperity gospel, & when it didn’t work out for me, I almost lost my faith. I certainly lost the belief that Jesus loved me; in fact, listening to Francis Chan talk about his own struggles with radically accepting the love of God validated that this is a common battle for many of us. We think getting our answers is evidence that God loves us. We treat God like we have a transactional faith, where we do this, & He does that. We figure out the Magic Words or the Magic Action, and presto! He gives us a solution! We press the, “explain Yourself” button on the Magical, Mystical Vending Machine & we reject the Love of God when we don’t hear or get an answer…
He’s not a slave to our questions.
He’s not a genie to grant our wishes.
God is predictable only in that He has Love for us…but not in how He shows His Love.
When we alter the focus of our lives to seek His ways, to seek His desire for our lives, everything else gets blurry–all of the “stuff;” all of the vacations; all of the answers we think we “have” to have–it all fades away into the background, & it’s replaced with a faith in solidly knowing that His ways are Good. It’s replaced with a genuine trust in Him, and a genuine denial of our entitlement to any answer other than “Jesus.”
My God is not a slave, and though we think in our society that worshipping an unseen Deity confines us to some sort of guilt-ridden servitude, I’d counter with the fact that my worship of Jesus as a loving Savior frees me to a life filled with awe…
I’m a broken human being, deeply flawed & fully dependent on the redeeming love of God. I make mistakes; I say dumb things; I get aggravated; I hold grudges, and yes, as aforementioned, I get jealous with a capital “J” like a Jonas Brother. I’m a work in progress (& that’s not an excuse for when I fail). It’s a beautiful thing, knowing there is forgiveness and mercy in Jesus & that He loves us so much that His Holy Spirit leads us to true repentence…to hearing that conviction–not condemnation–that urges us to seek His grace. He guides us to making real changes to become more like Him, even as we swim upstream in a world that wants drown us into homogeny.
We aren’t serving a Magical, Mystical Vending Machine.
We are worshipping the Shepherd…the Lion…the Savior…the Counselor…the Provider…the Father…the Creator…the Lord….
I was listening to Bethel this morning (it’s my go-to, especially when I’m struggling with my mental/spiritual health), & the lyrics, “with every breath that I am able, I will sing of the goodness of God,” resonated with me. Breathing seems so ordinary until you can’t do it, right? Like, we just expect lungs to inflate & deflate. We expect the transition of oxygen to our cells to be seamless, to be subconscious, until it’s not.
When you’re aware of every breath, it’s stressful–>which can contribute to anxiety–>which also makes it hard to breathe…But singers gotta sang, right?!?
Worshippers HAVE to worship. It’s how we’re wired–it’s what God made us to do, even those of us that may only sound mediocre to others. When He makes you to do something, He shuts that fire up in your bones and it HAS to come out, even when you don’t think you’re able.
If you cut the hands off of a drummer, they will rig a set and keep a rhythm with their feet (just ask Rick Allen). They literally have cadence running through their veins–try sitting next to my sister during ANY kind of musical performance. She will tap on whatever is handy, impulsively. I think she probably taps rhythms out while she sleeps–it’s who she is. She. Is. A. Drummer. It’s who God made her to be, regardless of the job that pays the bills. When God creates you to worship Him in a certain way, it consumes your entire being.
I have always been surrounded by music. I remember singing Gatlin Brothers songs while washing the dishes, or The Oak Ridge Boys, or even Madonna, Skynyrd, or Cash. Church hymns line the wrinkles of my brain–“The Old Rugged Cross,” or “In the Garden.” My mom’s harmony laid the path for my own, & the Baptist church I was raised in taught me deep lyrics & rich melodies, & how they all worked together to worship Jesus. For my sister, it was the rhythms and the guitars. For me, it was the voices, and since I can remember, I have sang my lungs out whenever possible…
But sometimes, I can’t.
Asthma is a jerk–I’ve made it no secret just how I feel about the contemptable beast. Most of the time, I go on uninterrupted. No one would know I actually have a partially-paralyzed vocal chord from my cancer surgery. I sound almost normal, and God knows I haven’t lost a lot of volume (in short bursts). Vocally (when I can breathe), although I’ve lost a lot of power and duration, things sound almost the same, which had originally stressed me out the most about the surgery. I don’t even think about that, most of the time. Breathing, however, is another story. Vocal chords work based on how air moves between them. Asthma likes to rear its ugly head this time of the year, & this time it’s BAD–like, ER, steroids, and more steroids bad. Nothing really seems to be touching it, & I’m struggling with worrying about it (amongst the stress of everything else). “With every breath that I am able?” Oh, Jesus, what if I’m not?!?
Then we praise Him in the silence.
We praise Him with our voices, and when those run out, we find other ways to give Him glory, whether it’s a blog or a note to a friend, or a silent prayer, or even just a hug to someone who needs it. We praise Him with whatever we can do or find, because regardless of the method or ability, IT’S WHO HE MADE US TO BE.
So, “with every breath that I am able, I WILL sing of the goodness of God,” even when I can’t breathe, even when I’m stressed, even when I’m run-down, and even when I don’t think I can function. He still is, and I am still who He created me to be. I’m going to push aside the emotional aspects of this, and focus on that.
I’m not saying he’s like, “genius-savant-off-the-charts” smart, but the kid can keep up conversations with people three times his age. Half the time, when he’s in trouble, he can skillfully debate with my on a level that leaves me shaking my head (and he definitely keeps me on my toes). I’m not looking forward to the teen years, let me tell you.
He’s quick-witted, easily distracted, and possibly OCD when he gets on a topic of choice. He may have a slight dose of ADD, but as long as he continues to maintain acceptable levels of self-control, I’m not going to look at getting a formal diagnosis. The investment into keeping him in a small, faith-based school means that he’s getting a lot of one-on-one relationships and education, so we’re able to maintain independence as parents when it comes to our child’s unique personality (Unpopular opinion: When your kid is 1 in a class of 24, with 1 teacher, and they have a lot of energy/thoughts/need to express all of the above, the teacher can’t possibly give them the space they need to do that, without affecting the other kids. Kids then fall behind, because they’re not getting what they need and they’re in an impossible environment. It’s hard on the teacher, the child, and the parents, and many times, parents are told they need to get their kids “under control.” The conditioning has become to get your child a formal diagnosis, an Individual Educational Plan, medication in many situations, counseling, and an asterisk that they are “different” or somehow not on a level that’s even with their peers. I feel like this would be the path we’d be facing in public school. I’m not saying it’s good or bad, but I am saying that it’s not for us. Small classes, individual attention, a solid curriculum, and most importantly, a foundation of faith, is the education I grew up with and is the education we chose for our child. I understand it is not for everyone—I’m not here to pass judgment, and am in no way saying that all kids are treated the same, or should expect to be. I will definitely say that I’m a huge advocate for Christian education, and that if you ever have any questions about it, I’m more than happy to answer to the best of my abilities. I went to Christian schools from Kindergarten through my Bachelor’s degree, and my son is now in his 4th year of Christian education, so I feel like I’ve got a pretty good grasp on the good, the bad, and the scary.). My son’s teachers have all celebrated Jericho’s strengths and have challenged his rough edges; I don’t always agree with them, but I will always support them (and when I don’t agree, I reach out to them to clarify my questions, and they ALWAYS respond with kindness).
Second Grade is challenging my son. I have to say that I don’t believe it’s challenging his intelligence as much as it’s challenging his patience and his focus (and looking back, I wish I would have realized the same things about myself as I faced my own academic issues). He gets the facts straight for his classes, but then doesn’t exhibit the focus he needs in order to recall those facts. He doesn’t want to slow down enough to have legible handwriting for his answer to count as correct. This has led to a number of discussions (many ending in tears) about, “Jericho, what is the point of knowing the answer if you won’t take the time to write it neatly enough to be read? You KNOW this stuff!!!” I find myself getting frustrated. I don’t want to go the route that devolves into hurting feelings, or making him feel like he’s “less than.” It can be challenging to convert, “DO better!!!” to, “Hey, you’re awesome, and you’re enough…and you’re also way smarter than a “B,” so slow down and do the job.”
I want him to understand that he is more than capable, and that it’s WORTH IT to slow down and to do it right…
But what does he hear???
It’s very difficult for me to stop, refocus my words, and to clarify both my intention and my love for him. I look at his little face when he’s turned in a “Bad” grade, and I know he’s beating himself up for it more than I ever could.
When we’ve had remote learning, he’s told me, “I don’t WANT to do the work with you!! You expect me to be PERFECT!!!!!!!”
It’s not true, but oh, how that hurt my heart to hear. I still want to cry when I think about it—have I failed him, in pushing him towards his potential? Or do I keep pressing in?
I’m not inclined to accept mediocrity when I know he has the ability to excel, but at what cost?
“You’re not here to be his friend,” I remind myself on an almost-daily basis. I love him too much to let him take the easy way out, even when it’s hard for me to stand my ground.
Now, don’t get me wrong—I’m not Tiger-Momming it over here. I consistently tell him that I want to see that he’s TRIED. If he tries and he gets a “C,” I’m totally okay with that—but I want him to TRY. That’s what matters to me, more than letters. Speaking of “C,” last night, he brought home a “C” on a science test.
I about fell over….the words escaped my mouth before I could stop them” “What in the world?!? A C?!?!”
Cue the tears.
He cried, and he wailed, and he yelled, and he had a Total. Meltdown. David was working upstairs, and he came down to see what torture I had inflicted in the household, to warrant such a racket.
I hadn’t said a word, other than my initial shock. You see, the night before that test, Jericho had recited almost word-for-word, the entire Study Guide. He knew it all. When I went to bed the night before, I just knew he was going to kill that science test, and maintain his GPA (yes, we talk about it in the Second Grade). He knew all of this stuff, and for him to bring home a “C” was a genuine shock to me.
He cried his little eyes out while sitting on my lap. I shushed him, told him it was okay, and quietly said that I just wanted to unpack what happened (I never raised my voice, if you’re wondering). He kept yelling. It took a while to calm him down and to focus, but once he did, I told him this story:
“Your brain—sometimes, your brain is full of cats in paper sacks. It’s nearly impossible to get your thoughts wrangled together and to focus through to find what you need, right?
Jericho, think of your brain like your Backpack. Say you’re going to Grammy’s house, and you need socks. You throw them into your backpack, first thing…and they sink to the bottom, as everything does when you throw it into the backpack, first.
As the day goes on, more things go into the backpack: Shoes, pajamas, stuffed animals…everything goes into the backpack, on top of everything else….
But you need your socks….and they’re at the bottom of the backpack….So what do you do?”
“You dump the backpack out and you find them.”
“Exactly. So, you sort through everything to find what you need, right?
It’s the same thing for your Brain. Think of your Brain as your Backpack:
You see, you KNEW all of the answers to that science test. You had it! But things happened….maybe a video game, or a TV show. Maybe you put a puzzle together that you were excited about, or you had a really great recess. All of those were things that went into your Brain Backpack, on TOP of the science stuff you knew so well, the night before.
So when the science test started, you needed to take a few deep breaths, focus, and really concentrate on sorting through all of the “other” stuff in your Brain Backpack, and find the answers you knew in the bottom of the bag—THEN you can pull the answers out, and write everything down as you know it.”
I don’t know if this mental picture will help him on his next test, but I know that as parents, our responsibility to encourage him towards excellence while protecting his self-esteem is very important to me. I never want him to feel like HE is not enough, even when his efforts are lacking. I’m grateful that he’s first of all, in a classroom, and secondly, surrounded by educators who are on the same page as David & I are, in lovingly pushing him towards his potential while giving him space to learn. It’s a delicate, balance and one that I am very challenged by.
Parenting isn’t for the faint of heart, and it’s not for those who aren’t willing to look at tear-filled eyes and still stand their ground (in love). I’m not his friend; I love him so much more than that….and I’m so grateful for my spirited, smart, hilarious little mini. He’s a good kid.
This video by The Holderness Family basically sums up our lives right now, and I couldn’t agree more!!!!!!!!!
Side note—Since my last post, we got a dog! Say “hello” to Noodle the Mutt—she’s about 5 months old, and she & Jericho are still getting used to each other, so that comes with its own set of challenges. I never wanted a small dog, and David never wanted a rescue or a mutt….Noodle happily meets all three of those “nevers” and we couldn’t love her more.
I always knew this day would come, but I thought it would be more like, 9 or 10.
I knew that even barely introducing the concept of Santa Claus would have its consequences, but at some point I decided that cuteness and imagination outweighed whatever those would be….and now it’s time to pay the piper. My son has announced that “Santa isn’t real.”
This might be the most fearsome Santa I have ever seen. Get this guy outta here!
Now, I have never confirmed or denied this fact. I’ve simply given him a response that is inspired by my life mentor, C. S. Lewis: “Is that a gamble you want to take?” This is loosely based on C.S. Lewis’ Trilemma, of whether or not you want to live your life in such a way that believes Jesus was real, or that He was a madman….It’s a pretty big gamble, and it makes perfect sense to me to utilize this logic when it came to the possibilities of Saint Nick, who is, as we know, based on a true story. But I digress…
The facts are the facts, and now my son is calling me on my bluff. In the interest of never again undermining my parental truths, this is the year that we metaphorically end Santa in our household…but how to do it in a way that spares imagination? In a way that keeps Christmas full of childlike wonder? IN A WAY THAT GETS ME MY GOSH-DARNED PICTURES AT CABELAS OR BASS PRO EVERY FLIPPING YEAR FOR THE SAKE OF CONTINUITY!!!! IT’S FOR POSTERITY, PEOPLE!!!!!!!!!!!! Ahem….
So, this year, I have a plan….Okay, it’s not much of a plan, but I thought I’d share it with you. Here goes:
Jericho has only ever received 1-3 gifts from Santa. I think that’s only fair, since we work our butts off and deserve most of the credit. He’s not used to getting giant gifts from Mr. Claus, because Mr. Claus didn’t slave over an overflowing desk for the previous 11 months.
Jericho has gotten a letter from Santa several times, including one which contained a gift certificate to Goodwill. Yep–at that point, Goodwill didn’t even MAKE gift certificates…but I know a fluffy lil’ elf who’s handy with clip art, thanks to years of yearbook editing.
I got one gift for Jericho that’s earmarked from Santa, and it’s something he knows I would NEVER in a million years buy him. Really, I just did it to mess with him. I’ll pay for the therapy later.
Finally, I wrote him the Last Letter from Santa that he will ever receive. I think I’m sending him out with a bang; I’m including it below. Feel free to borrow it if you need to.
Although I have a few regrets about introducing my kiddo to Santa in the first place, I don’t feel bad about how he’s ending. I think I have successfully brought the focus full circle, and that I’ve managed to write something that keeps the wonder and miracle of Christmas in a child’s reality, as opposed to something that’s magical and unattainable. Santa may not be real, but hope and joy are, when they are founded in the Reason for the Season.
It’s Jericho’s last Christmas with Santa, and it’s mostly sweet as opposed to bitter. He’s growing up…why does it happen so fast? I’m nostalgic, but I have so much hope for his beautiful future, and for the destiny God has for him. It’s an honor to get to watch this kiddo grow up.
Make beautiful Christmas memories, y’all. For those hearts that are hurting this season–and I know far, far too many–may His peace fall over your hearts and souls, and may His Love be the healing you need. Merry Christmas to all…..
Dear Jericho:
Merry Christmas!!!!! I see that you’re doing so well this year: You’re getting good grades, you’re learning about Jesus & the Bible, and you’re learning new things! You’re growing so much…you’re growing up, and that’s why I’m writing you this letter.
You see, when little boys and girls start growing up, certain things lose their “sparkle.” Stories about Santa Claus and reindeer are replaced with Mario and video games, and books about the North Pole are replaced with YouTube. It’s all part of getting older, and since I’m over a thousand years old (yes, over a thousand!!), I’ve watched generations of boys and girls grow up and move past believing in me.
And that’s okay.
You see, Christmas isn’t about me—it never was. In fact, all I do, and all any of my workers do (my workers—you know, the guys in the stores that dress like me, that Mom makes you take pictures with? Yeah, they work for me—but you’re right, they’re not me!) is to try and represent the truth of Christmas to a world that needs love and hope far more than it needs toys or games. When I lived in Europe (waaaaaay back in the day), I would see people in need and I would try to help them get food and shelter. Many people lived in poverty, and had no homes. I would try to get toys to the children, to bring joy to their lives, because many of them lived in sickness & in sadness. Jesus says that “the poor you will always have with you,” & it’s true. There are many, many poor & homeless people that live on this earth—even in Arnold or in Imperial!….And for every person that is poor or homeless in their body, thousands more are poor in spirit, living a life without Jesus in their hearts.
I know that you know “Santa Claus” as the TV and movies show him, is not real. But the hope & joy that people feel when they see me is VERY real, & it’s a bright light to their soul that shines this season—almost like that beautiful Star of Bethlehem that shown over the stable where Jesus was born! THAT’s why we celebrate Christmas—not because of me, Santa Claus. We celebrate the Birth of the Baby that would save us from our sins, & Who would give us love, hope, & life forever. He’s a Reason to celebrate all year long!!!
So, you’re grown now…you’re 7, & you’re very, very smart. You’ve learned my secret…that no, I’m not real, but that I represent things that are very, very real: Hope, Joy, & Love. These are things that can only be found in Jesus, & I lived my life on earth in a way that celebrated Him to all of the people I knew.
Jericho, this will be my last letter to you, & my last present to you, so I decided to make it count…your mom might get mad at me over this, but she knows if she says too much about it, she’ll wake up with coal under her pillow!!! May your Christmas always be full of the hope, joy, and Love that comes from our Savior, Jesus Christ.
After losing my Uncle Charlie last week, my Aunt Bonnie passed away this week. I wasn’t “close” to either of them, but they were still people in my circle, and still people that I knew and laughed with at family functions. I’m not going to be falsely dramatic and say that I’m devastated, etc., because it’s not true; however, any time you lose someone in your circle….someone you’re connected to, in any way…there’s a sadness and a sense of loss. Both my aunt and my uncle were on different sides of my family (my maternal uncle, and my biologically-paternal aunt). They both had wicked senses of humor (I still remember my Uncle Charlie making fun of my parents’ Christian bumper stickers on the “church van” one Christmas, LOL), and my Aunt Bonnie had a laugh you could hear 3 houses down. I think we may have had that in common. Family relationships can be complicated and tangled, and hard to explain–but they’re still family, regardless of whether you see them every few years, or every day.
My family, like many others (but few that I know of, directly) contains adopted family members, step-family members, biological family members, and a few people that we aren’t technically related to, but may as well be. We’re a mid-western melting pot. I remember being so sad about it when I was a kid; everyone in my tiny school had one mom, and one dad, and 2 sets of grandparents, and “normal.” What the heck is “normal,” now? I was sad because I was 7 or 8, and I didn’t understand what a blessing it was, to have so much variety in the definition of that word: “Family.”
“Family” means a lot of different things (and it sure as heck isn’t defined by blood, because that doesn’t BEGIN to make sense in many families). For me, it’s primarily that nuclear group that’s “in my bubble,” thanks to COVID: Mom, Dad, Sister, Husband, Son, Extra Parents. My in-laws, whom I haven’t seen since March because of COVID, are in that group, and I miss them. I miss all of them.
I think that missing friends and family magnifies any loss, even when you’re not that close to someone. This crazy COVID world has us all on edge, all isolated and spread apart, and all feeling the tinges of loneliness (for some, it’s much more than “tinges”). I had a moment yesterday where I was almost in tears, because I miss my friends; I miss spending my Friday afternoons having lunch with friends, getting things off of my chest and/or listening to them do the same.
I miss planning play dates with my kiddo (WHAT ARE WE GONNA DO OVER CHRISTMAS BREAK?!?!?!?!?!). I miss calling someone and saying, “Hey, can we come over?” (Let’s be truthful–I almost never call anyone and say, “hey, come over to my house!!” because I have no parking and I feel self-conscious about the mess of having 3 people crammed into a very small space. But if I COULD call someone and say, “Hey, wanna come over?” I’M AT THE POINT WHERE I WOULD.).
So, this is a short blog (for me). I’m sort of “in the mullygrubs,” as we say (but not at the point where I’m sobbing into my morning coffee. Maybe this blog is a way to get it out of my system before I get that far?). I know of a few people that are really struggling in this season–from loss, from the election issues, from winter blahs, whatever. This tends to be a season where many have a hard time finding their joy in a “normal year,” but this year? There are some dark struggles happening, and the spiritual/mental battles being waged are MAJOR. We’re a world in need of Hope, more than ever.
Writing is one of the ways that I refocus, and that’s what I’m doing here. Yes, you’re basically reading my personal therapy session and I have little-to-no concerns about oversharing–but you probably know that by now! 🙂 I choose Hope…I choose Joy. It doesn’t mean I’m not sad; it just means that I’m leaning on Jesus and pushing through….like a lot of people.
Please pray for Connie, Tammy, Travis, Tiffany, Alvin, Sabrina, Richard, Dena, & their families; they’re missing someone they loved so much, so close to Christmas. There are a lot of families really hurting right now, and all any of us can do, is pray. Don’t forget to reach out to your friends and family right now; stay safe, but stay sensitive to those nudges from the Holy Spirit to not forget those that need to hear kindness and concern right now.
We’re gonna get thru this year, people. We’re allllllllmost there…. 🙂
I think I reiterate this every year, but I. Love. Christmas!!!! I’ll spare you all of the things I love about it, but I think I love it more every year.
I really, really love Christmas songs–the Name of Jesus is proclaimed on virtually EVERY radio station, every TV station, all over Hulu, Netflix, Disney+, EVERYWHERE, and music is constant! Sad Christmas songs make me like, three times more emotional than any other sad song–can we NOT?!?! I like happy Christmas songs, and I’m not going to apologize for it. I usually start the Christmas music the day after Thanksgiving, but I started early this year because COVID is sucking my will to live. Thanksgiving bummed me out a bit, and I don’t know what our Christmas is going to look like this year (I miss my church homies, and I miss baking for them!), but in the meanwhile, there is-and-always-will-be, Christmas music.
Our church is meeting in home groups for the foreseeable future, and has for some time now. It’s taken some time to adjust to, but interestingly enough, we no longer meet on Sunday mornings (GASP! It almost feels blasphemous to say it out loud). Once a month, we meet corporately on Sunday afternoon (we livestreamed the last meeting, since we’re being uber-careful about ‘Rona), but weekly, we’re meeting on Friday nights (currently on Zoom, again, due to COVID). This means that Sundays are…wait for it…FREE. Wait, let me retype that as how I truly feel: FFFFFFFFRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (said in my Adam Sandler/Bedtime Stories voice)
I’m usually doing laundry or stuff around the house, since it’s the only time I’m not cramming full of other household things. This week, though, outside of a 7:30pm meeting (again, Zoom), our whole day was blank like canvas. I slept in, we had soup, there were Wii games and yelling, and it was nice. “You’re rambling, Cass. Where does this tie into Christmas?!?” you ask…
I found a YouTube Channel that plays Christmas music on a livestream. To my surprise, it’s pretty good!
The scene above was on our TV in the living room. If you look at it full-screen, you’ll see the details, down to the little dog parked down by the threshold of the fireplace. This is such a cozy scene; it reminds me of my parents’ house, and their best friends’ house, and the house I imagine for myself when I can’t sleep at night (what, you don’t play Imaginary Decorator when you can’t sleep?), and interestingly enough, it matches my Christmas decor.
David & Jericho were in the kitchen building a Christmas present for “someone,” and I was listening to their conversation…I was sitting on the couch, reading a book (!). None of us were out of our pajamas, and the Christmas music was playing in the background. I was suddenly struck by the beauty of this simple moment. I had such a breath of gratitude in my spirit.
I can remember being in a friend’s house and seeing their family together…the dad and one of the daughters was singing in the kitchen, working on dinner, while the mom and the other daughters & their husbands were milling about, talking about various subjects. Grandkids were running up-&-down the stairs in their beautiful home, and I had a moment of awe that was spiked with a bit of jealousy. This was AMAZING! Like, this is the kind of scene that TV tells us is normal, but that life says is anything but! I felt like I was on a 90’s TGIF sitcom, in one of those sappy “aw-shucks-hug-the-dog” moments. What was this?!?!?
I can remember being in the kitchen in the house that I grew up in, and I don’t remember what we were doing, but my mom, my sister, & I were all singing Gatlin Brothers’ songs. That’s one of those moments where everything was happy, and harmonious (literally–my mom’s a killer harmony singer), & I remember breathing it in and sealing it in my brain (BTW, click the link to hear the GBs if you’ve never heard of them). They’re still awesome).
The moments we get to stop and build a metaphorical monument in our brains–where we take a bit to breathe in what we’re seeing and feeling, and we seal that memory–are so precious. I have a ton of amazing memories of life in general, but especially at Christmas. I’m learning that no matter what gift you have for someone, you can’t force those moments. Those moments happen by the grace & love of Jesus–those moments are in & of themselves, like spontaneous worship. Those moments hit us in our spirit–they catch our attention and remind us to stop and to thank God for the life that He’s given us. They’re completely genuine, without pretense; they probably happen far more often than we know, because we’re so busy. Having that blank Sunday to rest and stop allowed me to remember what I was surrounded with, and to be so, so thankful.
Maybe that’s a blessing in all of this COVID garbage–maybe it’s giving us time to stop and think, to stop and appreciate who we have and what moments we’re surrounded by.
I’m so thankful for the Beautiful Moments…I know this little blog doesn’t go very far, but one thing it does do is serve as a marker for the memories I want to keep. I want to remember seeing the Christmas lights, the sappy scene on the TV, the silly pajamas and the paint on the kitchen table. I want to remember a lazy Sunday full of cozy blankets and soup, & a good book.
I want to remember that feeling of gratitude, and to go back to it on the days where I’ve lost my focus and have let the Hamster Wheel of Life detour my emotions. I want to hold onto the Beautiful Moments, and to pay attention so that when they come along, I’m ready to take that deep breath and to seal it in, to give thanks to God for making it all possible.
May this Christmas be a time of Beautiful Moments for you and all of your family…if I don’t see you until the New Year, may your 2021 be (and this is where I don’t say, “less of a dumpster fire than 2020”) a year that brings you closer to God, and closer to each other. Peace and Love to you and yours!
This is a small collection of the COVID photo shoots….the picture in the bottom center is the only one taken by a professional. We literally shot the rest ourselves with cell phones because we couldn’t be bothered with real equipment…which we have…but 2020. Also, based on these pictures, which were taken 3 completely different times, I am dubbing 2020 the “Year of Denim,” because I evidently couldn’t get away from some incarnation of a denim shirt in Every. Single. Picture. 🙂 Photos taken at Strawberry Nature Reserve and at Bee Tree Park, by David Cooley and Emmybee Photography
When the year started, I felt the Lord say from the beginning to “give Me a year. Give Me this year.”
Sure, I hemmed and hawed about it…I procrastinated. I had my book about the Torah sitting on the couch (it’s still there) and a few other books set aside, and as life would have it, me & my hamster wheel just kept spinning, and I kept on saying, “It’s early, Lord. I’ll get there. I’ll get there….”
But I didn’t.
But then, COVID.
And lo-&-behold, I GOT THERE.
In hearing God say, “Give me a year,” what He was telling me was that it was time for me to get serious about His Word. It’s time for me to read it; to love it; and to push past the arrogance of a lifetime of Christian education, & to look at it through new eyes. It’s time to read it in humility & in wonder…it’s time to read the Word with acceptance and through lenses of His love for us (or as close as we can come to understanding His love for us–THAT is an ever-evolving journey). 2020 has been a year of unlearning and relearning the Bible, and in undoing & redoing my personal theology in ways I never realized could be done. It’s been a year of restoration, depletion, and of new creation, as far as my spiritual life has gone. God put me in a position where yes, He took the year, but I gave it to Him, first…He gently asked, I stalled; He made it possible, and I have slowly-but-surely turned it over to Him, day by day.
Up until this year, I NEVER had a heart for reading the Word. I’m not ashamed to admit it anymore–I realize why I became so calloused, and why it was easier for me to act like I had it together or was so smart, when really, my head knowledge about the Word has never matched up to my heart’s understanding or desire for the Word–and I’m not ashamed to admit it’s been a work in progress. I’ve been following a daily reading plan that includes an audio Bible, and I’ve been listening to it every morning on my way into work. It’s been revolutionary. There’s so much I never noticed before, and so much that I never realized I was skipping or glossing over. Hearing the Word has revived parts of me that I didn’t know were dead! It’s drawn me in closer to God, and even though we all know I’m a salty chick, I think I’m more in love with Jesus than I’ve ever been before. Again, I’m a work-in-progress, and I’m always afraid someone will read this blog and think I’m something that I’m not. I’m a mess. I’m just…I’m a mess that loves Jesus, and is trying her best.
I’ve tried to stay committed on this path, and I hope I continue it for the rest of my life. I’ve found myself tempted by the glossy theology of deconstruction, & the only way I know how to stay on the path of the Lord is to follow His Word, so here I am…knowing there is no where else I’d rather be, even if my friends or my spiritual icons, or my personal inspirations, seem to be veering off course.
That seems to be happening a lot lately….people I used to have on pedestals (which isn’t their fault) are tumbling down into softened Christianity, selling out moral compasses for comfortable mattresses of “One Love theology.” It’s so tempting.
It’s so, so tempting, to sit back and say that Jesus loves us all, so therefore, we can ignore everything in Scripture that makes us uncomfortable….
It’s so, so tempting to sit back and say that Jesus loves us all, so therefore, we can ignore everything that doesn’t make sense to us….
It’s so, so tempting to sit back and say that Jesus loves us all, so therefore, we can ignore everything that sounds like judgment or conviction….
It’s so, so tempting to strip Christianity to one word–Love–but then to interpret that word into permission…
It’s so, so tempting to strip Christianity to one word–Freedom–but then to interpret that word into passivity.
I.
AM.
PASSIONATELY.
AGAINST
–Theology that states that we “deserve” to be comfortable.
–Theology that states that we “deserve” to be accepted by the world.
–Theology that states that we “deserve” to accept the world.
–Theology that states that we “deserve” to understand or that everything “has” to make sense.
–Theology that states that we “deserve” to accept carnal influences and allows them to strip us of our abilities to make choices.
–Theology that ties love to acceptance, and states that in order for me to love you, I “have” to agree with all of your life choices.
I can’t live that way, and I can’t accept that’s the direction the Lord is taking His people.
Recently, our daily readings took us through Psalms 119. A particular verse stood out to me:
“I am a sojourner in the earth. Hide not Thy commandments from me.”–Psalm 119:19 (ASV)
The word, “sojourner” stood out to me; it’s not a word you hear very often, although it’s one I’m familiar with. I went ahead and looked it up, just to be sure my understanding was correct. A sojourner is a stranger or a nomad. Wikipedia says it’s “a person who resides temporarily in a place.”
There was a book series I loved when I was a kid, called The Chronicles of Prydain. If ever I was in love with a fictional character, it was Taran, the main character. In the book, Taran Wanderer, Taran goes on a quest to determine his parentage. Throughout the story, Taran proves his character & the end result (spoiler alert) is new confidence in the boy he was, and in the man he has become. The overall tone of the book is the journey itself, though, as Taran feels like a man without a family or a home. He has no roots, no lineage, and no claim to be able to propose to the woman he loves.
To wander through life without a feeling of belonging or home, is the very definition of what it means to be a sojourner. It is a feeling of being out-of-place, of never belonging anywhere tangible. It is a feeling of being, in a word, UNCOMFORTABLE.
Psalms 119:19 asks God not to hide His commandments from us–that’s because when you’re a sojourner, you need the anchor of His Word to ground you….to remind you that nope–THIS isn’t home, but you’re eternally tied into the place where you belong, which is with Him.
Christianity was never designed to be “comfortable.” It’s not designed to feel good–I mean, God loved us so much that He sent His Son to die a terrible death so that we could spend eternity with Him. It’s a belief system built on sacrifice.
Sacrifice is (wait for it)…UNCOMFORTABLE!
So, we’re sojourners—we’re just passing through this crazy world, and we know that no matter how difficult it gets, we have peace on the other side. Sometimes, that’s a huge comfort in and of itself (not always, but sometimes)…but “comfort” is the word I’m taking to task, because it seems to be more important these days than anything else.
We do EVERYTHING in order to make our lives more “convenient.” Like, I love me some Target Drive-Up or Walmart Pick-Up grocery shopping! I love me some Amazon! I love anything that doesn’t cause me to have to get out of my car or to interact with people. I love my electronics; I love my “quick fixes” for just about anything. I, like most Americans, do NOT like to be inconvenienced. I like my comfortable clothes, my super-soft blankets, and my aromatherapy mister.
I don’t like to be uncomfortable.
At some point, our desire to be comfortable has spread into our theology, and we have forgotten what our very faith is based in.
True love is uncomfortable.
True Love means I care enough about someone to say when they’re making a life choice that has spiritual repercussions. It means I care enough to have uncomfortable conversations in respect & in gentleness (I Peter 3:15). It doesn’t mean that I force my beliefs on someone, but it does mean that when that door opens, I am willing to step out in faith and talk to someone.
True Love means I stop expecting God to answer my questions. That might shock a few people–let me explain: Shortly after my daughter passed away, Natalie Grant’s song “Held” came out. The lyrics are forever burned into my brain; specifically, the line, “Who told us we’d be rescued? What has changed, and why should we be saved from nightmares?”
Those lyrics rocked my world, and woke me up to the absolute arrogance and entitlement with which I was living my faith. I will never understand the hows or whys, but what I do understand and believe is that God has a plan. I do understand and believe that God is GOOD…and even though what has happened does not always seem to match up on the surface with that, I am set in my belief that it is true. God. Is. Good….and that goes beyond the scope of my comprehension. Who am I, to demand answers and explanations from Him?!
WHY DO CHRISTIANS THINK THEY SHOULD ONLY EVER ENCOUNTER GOOD THINGS? Why do we think we’re immune to heartache? To loss? To sickness or disease? NOTHING in the Bible states that “you find Jesus, it’s green lights and allllllll rights from here, baby!!!!” NO–verse after verse after verse reminds us that this world is not our home. They remind us that yes, good can come from suffering, but THERE IS SUFFERING. I tend to blame prosperity garbage for these lies, and I most definitely think it’s a theology that’s responsible for devastating the church (I don’t agree with everything in this documentary, but the film American Gospel has some good sticking points about the Prosperity Gospel). WE ARE HUMANS. WE ARE BROKEN PEOPLE, LIVING IN A SICK, BROKEN, DISEASED WORLD. We are in the world, even if we aren’t of the world, and guess what? No matter what color you’re wearing, it’s gonna get dirty in a garbage bin. WE ARE NOT IMMUNE, and it’s total arrogance for us to think anything otherwise.
True Love means that when I don’t get the answers I want or think that I deserve, that I lean back in faith and still trust Him, even though not knowing or understanding makes me VERY uncomfortable.
A “comfortable” theology looks at the moral compasses and absolutes in Scriptures, cocks its head back, raises an eyebrow, and says those fateful words, “Hath God Not Said?”
“Hath God Not Said” are the Four Words that Wrecked it All, and they’re the first four words we say when we find ourselves faced with Uncomfortable Theology that we want to talk ourselves out of. “Hath God Not Said” are the Four Words that Satan the Snake used to lead Eve to eat the Apple and to corrupt her husband, and “Hath Got Not Said” are the Four Words that put us in this leaky boat on an ocean of UGH.
It is so uncomfortable to trust God. It is so uncomfortable to wander through this earth, through this mortal life, knowing that this unsettled feeling is permanent. We’re strangers in a strange land, and we’re a long way from Home. It’s okay that we accept the fact that it’s not easy, it’s not fun, and it’s VERY uncomfortable…
But it’s worth it….
It’s worth it for those glimpses into His character that we see in His Word. It’s worth it for those whispers we hear in our hearts from Him. It’s worth it to hear His Spirit speak into our hearts, to hear Him call us His sons and daughters. It’s worth it to know the security and grace only He can offer. It’s worth it to know we are forgiven, and that we are loved, and that we can share that love with others in this unloving world…in this world that sells a candy-coated, hollowed-out version of love that is so far from the Real Thing…We have in our hearts a Love that is more inclusive than anything the world can imitate. We have a Love that extends grace to all who ask…who extends eternity to all who seek it through Jesus. How great of a Love is that?
This has been a Most Uncomfortable Year for so many…I, for one, am glad that this world is not my home, because who would want to think this is it??!?! If this is all there is–if there isn’t an eternity to call Home–it’s sorely disappointing, even at it’s best, in the light of what Jesus offers us.
Truth be told, I started percolating on this blog last week, while I was sick, and while I was facing my 43rd birthday. I’ve had 43 years on this planet, and it takes me FOREVER to feel like I even slightly “fit in” anywhere. I always feel like a weirdo, but maybe instead of a “weirdo,” I should adopt the term, “sojourner,” because it seems more fitting. This world is not my home. Eternity is my home and my hope, and I am praying that as I continue on this road of reading and of falling in love with the Bible, that my eyes stay focused on just that….on hiding His commandments in my heart, and on hearing His voice. He asked me for one year…it’s turning into all of them. That’s uncomfortable to say…but I guess that’s the point of this blog.
Every year around this time, I sit down to write with a focus on my Hannah Elizabeth Gayle Cooley. Can you believe she’d be 14 this year? This October 30th, my daughter would be turning 14 years old, & I’m sure had she stayed with us, that our social media feeds would be full of the things that mothers and teenagers are both besties and frenemies over. I’d like to think we’d have a great relationship, and that we would be on each other’s last nerve…that she’d be musical and lyrical, and free-spirited and independent, and that above all, she’d love Jesus. That’s my hope for both of my kiddos–that they love Jesus. I think a lot of parents would say that about their children.
Last night, I was perusing Instagram when the Humans of New Yorkpage came up:
“(edited for space)There were prayer chains and Facebook groups. My friends got together without me knowing, and they prayed over us. We received letters from so many people: family overseas, people we’d lost touch with, people we’d never met. We hung them all in the bathroom until the entire wall was filled. But a few weeks before our due date, we received the worst possible news: Elliana’s chest cavity hadn’t grown enough, and there wasn’t room for her lungs. I asked the doctor to give me the odds, but he just shook his head. We began to plan for her funeral… On the day of her birth, the waiting room was filled with people who loved us. They prayed from 10 AM to 5 AM the next day. I still keep a picture of that waiting room hanging in our hallway. And it’s my favorite picture, because it reminds me of all the people who petitioned for Elliana’s life. And we got our miracle. I struggle with it sometimes, because I know so many people lose their babies. But Elliana came out breathing on her own, and the doctors were in awe…Our story has a happy ending. But even when it seemed like a tragedy, I never felt alone. I never felt like the story was my own. Because in my darkest moments, a community of people chose to share my burden.”
I don’t need to go into the “whys,” for my breakdown (albeit a brief one) into the Ugly Crys. You know me well enough to understand that when I read the phrase, “we got our miracle,” that it broke me. I’m so grateful that HONY shared this story, because I remember what it was like to see that room full of people who poured their hearts out for days, petitioning to the Lord to save my daughter’s life. We didn’t get our miracle, and I can’t paint that in any kind of redeeming light. I will never understand the whys (on this earth), and even if I did, would that make it any better? No. So we pursue on in faith, trusting that He knows what He’s doing when He makes His choices.
Last week, our daily reading plan (click the link, you won’t be sorry–see my last blog for details) had us reading in both Micah and in 2 Timothy. In 2 Timothy, we see Paul coming to the end of his life, as he writes his final words from prison.
In Micah, we see a prophet trying to prepare his community…trying to get them to wake up and seek the Lord for their redemption…He states the oft-quoted,
Meanwhile, as Paul looks at the approaching end of his life, he states,
We have a mandate to “do justice, love mercy, and to walk humbly with our God.” Only when we do these things, can we look at the end of our life and say, with confidence (not arrogance) that we have “fought the good fight,” and that we have “kept the faith.”
This is not an easy thing to do…it’s not a small task, and Jesus knows what He is asking us to do.
Trials–deaths, sickness, COVID, poverty, unemployment, crime, whatever–come and go, but Jesus and His love for us are eternal.
That’s the only reason I have any hope for anything.
After I read the HONY story last night, I tripped up over “we got our miracle,” and my mind immediately went to “why?” I’ve blogged about this before; the “whys” range from plaintive cries to flat-out screams, and they’re always there in some respect. The question is do I stay there? Do I keep questioning, knowing the outcome will always be the same, until I’m face-to-face with Him? Or do I take a deep breath (or 50), let the tears fall, and listen to Him remind me that He loves me? That He’s still in control? That I’m heard, and that He understands? I make a choice every time the “why” comes to the forefront of my thoughts. I choose to “walk humbly with my God,” and that means that above all, I trust Him.
No one ever said that was a fun choice.
Sometimes the world smacks us in the face with that reminder….that reminder that we are strangers in a strange land, and that we can’t let ourselves get sucked into the mindgames and emotional traps that are laid for us: “Dear friends, you are foreigners and strangers on this earth. So I beg you not to surrender to those desires that fight against you“–I Pet. 2:11-12, CEV
Those “desires that fight against” us aren’t just people throwing lusts of the flesh in our face. They’re also the “quicksand” that we get trapped into, that make us question His motives and character, and our own faith. It’s cyclical thinking that kicks off our anxiety and leaves us an emotional basket case. I’m not immune to it, but I’d like to think I can spot the traps a bit easier now than I used to. Those first few years after Hannah passed away? Oooh, I got caught UP in some messes.
Actual photo of getting stuck in the quicksand of an emotional mind trap. 🙂
Grief and loss are pitfalls for so many of us…playing the “why?” game with God is a dangerous dead weight that only serves an enemy that wants to see us destroyed.
It’s a tender time of the year for us–for David as well as for myself, even when we seem like everything is fine. Our daughter is never far from our minds, but as her birthday approaches, memories come back, and I know I find myself looking at her pictures a bit more…remembering tiny hands, and beautiful, red-pink cheeks (like her Daddy), and how she’d snuggle in to the soft robe my mother had made me…how she smelled like Cheerios, and how to this day, I cherish every photo taken of family and friends because I know how much those pictures of her mean to me.
I’m finding myself ready to withdraw from social events, and from social media in general–whether it’s healthy or not, I never know, but I will tell you that I make no apologies. Maybe that sounds rude, but I’ve learned that if I don’t listen to these emotions, they’ll pop out at the most inopportune times, and I have no desire to have another flippin’ sobfest in the middle of a Hobby Lobby, so if I tell you I can’t make it, let me be. 🙂
I started writing a piece last night that I think I will leave unfinished; I feel like it makes a good conclusion, even though it’s not fully written, because “unfinished” feels like a pretty good way to describe how I’m feeling through all of this….
Hannah Elizabeth Gayle Cooley, 10/30/2006-11/28/2006
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