Do you find it beyond interesting that many women in Scripture are not named? The “woman caught in adultery” (John 8:1-12), the “woman at the well” (John 4:5-30), and “the woman who bled for twelve years” (Mark 5:25-34). How do you feel about that? Some of you may feel a bit of “it’s not fair” huffiness. Or you may not have even given it a second thought. As for me, I love it! Why?
It’s as though their namelessness encompasses every woman who has lived the same circumstances. It doesn’t matter if she was Jewish or Gentile. Her age doesn’t matter. Her hip size, family size, brain size – none of it matters. To her surprise and mine, sinfulness doesn’t even matter. The only thing that matters is the love Jesus poured out on her and the relationship that followed.
Each of these women has pointed me toward Jesus, whom they met on the road, by the well, and in the court of rejection. Each has given me the courage to lay my burdens and sinfulness at his feet – only to be surprised by LOVE – immersed in grace. I want to speak to just one of these stories and how it relates to my own life.
The woman at the well (John 4:5-30)
This woman was ostracized in a town where everyone knew her business. She could not hide from the other women’s ridicule or the condemning stares. So she avoided the courtyard in the early morning when the other women were there, choosing to go when she could be alone. And then…
One afternoon she went to get her water while no one was there. Well, not exactly “no one”. Jesus showed up! He startled her when he gently asked her for a drink of water. She quickly scanned the road for witnesses, but no one was around.
Since she presumed he was a stranger, she was certain he was unaware of her circumstances. Imagine her surprise when he called her out for neglecting to be honest with him about her husband count, but then showed her love instead of judgment and rejection.
Jesus chose to reveal himself to this lowliest of women, to a hated and rejected sinner – just like me. He showed her the gentleness and grace of a love she had never experienced. She gave him a drink, and in turn, he introduced her to the “living water” of God’s love!
Yeah, that! He did the same for me!
By the time I reached my early twenties, when a suicide attempt had failed, I often drank myself into a stupor to numb the pain. I was divorced and had a miserable off-and-on relationship with someone as messed up as I was.
And then it happened – suddenly and without warning, just like our friend at the well – Jesus showed up in the midst of my emptiness! It’s funny; in our misery, we muddle along day in and day out. Days stretch into years. Pain and sorrow become as commonplace as your morning bowl of oatmeal. No surprises. No hope. No desire or longing to cling to. We do life anesthetized.
But just leave the slightest crack for Jesus to enter, and all of heaven breaks out into thunderous applause, dancing and singing, and all sorts of merriment! With a wink and a nod from God, Jesus joyfully erupts into our lives!
Does anyone besides me remember Mighty Mouse? I used to sing the song from that cartoon to my grandkids, and they looked at me like I had two heads! But then, one day, I heard my granddaughter singing it, “Here I come to save the day”! That’s the picture I get of Jesus when he shows up in our lives. It’s awe and wonder in the very midst of our messiness. There are indeed those still-small-voice moments. But I believe he saves those for when our hearts are more open to him.
(Tenor GIF)
When I drift too far from him, Jesus becomes a man on a mission, touching the depth of my heart—taking my breath away. Literally! Just like the woman at the well who was blown away by her Jesus encounter. She ran as fast as she could to tell everyone about it. She no longer cared one rip about what people thought of her. She was a new creation in Christ, a beloved daughter of the King, and no one would redefine her ever again! She was forgiven and loved more deeply than she ever thought possible – and so are we – every one of us!
Perhaps our hearts will soften when we find ourselves encountering the lost and broken we are often ready to judge and condemn. Let us not participate in the ridicule of others that so many so-called “Christians” piously denigrate in God’s name. I sadly confess that, at times, I forget the sting of being judged as I become the judger – Lord have mercy on me.
You cannot experience the Living God and not be changed – it’s impossible. So, get yourself over to the well, leaving just the teeniest crack in your heart, and then hang on for the ride of your life!
The world offers many different expressions of love: “I love mint chocolate chip ice cream!” (Actually, that’s true.) “I love your new car!” “I love shopping!” Love can be humorous, as when Miss Piggy floats across a field of flowers, heart beating wildly, feeling weak in the knees, stomach all a-flutter, shrieking, “Ohhhhhh, Kermie!”
(Tenor GIF)
Worldly love can come with no expectations or commitments: “I used to love you when you were thin and had more hair!” or, “Well, I could have loved you, but your ex-wife got all your money, and, well, I have needs!” or, “You didn’t tell me I had to love your kids too!”
That kind of love can be found merely by seeking our own desires, which we believe no one has a right to deny us, and it’s just as rewarding to love things as people.
Unfortunately, that mentality devours childhood innocence, destroys relationships, shrugs off compassion, and muddies the pure waters of selfless love. As long as we seek love from the things of this world, we will always come up lost and empty for our efforts.
How do so many of us get it so wrong so often? Perhaps it’s because our meager understanding of love is based on our personal, human experiences. I often ask myself, “Self, what is your problem? Why do you struggle so much? Why can’t you let go of your past? Why is it so difficult for you to trust God, to accept His love and your inherent worth?” Perhaps my ego has been too big, my fear too overwhelming, and my God too small.
But by the grace of God, I am gradually seeing my failure to truly love and my fear of accepting love. God does not fit neatly into the image I created. He refuses to patronize me when I cry out, “Lord, Lord!” It’s as though He’s saying, “Your cries are muted by your deafening indifference, Linda. Your faith is lukewarm, and, need I remind you, how I hate lukewarm?!” (Revelation 3:16)
Richard Rohr puts it into perspective for me, “It is in doing it wrong, being rejected, and experiencing pain that we are led to total reliance upon God….God has let me do just about everything wrong, so I could fully experience how God can do everything so utterly right….If we expect or need things (including ourselves) to be perfect or even “to our liking,” we have created a certain plan for a miserable life.”
Phillip Newell tells us, “Within us – as a sheer gift of God – is the capacity to bring forth what has never been before, including what has never been imagined before. Deep within us are holy, natural longings for oneness….We may live in tragic exile from those longings, or we may have spent a whole lifetime not knowing how to truly satisfy them, but they are there at the heart of our being, waiting to be born afresh….When we love, we bring the very essence of our being into relationship with the essence of the other.” (The Rebirthing of God, p. x, xvi)
There are rare moments in my life when I experience a great and mysterious intensity. Perhaps that is the longing Newell speaks of. I recall someone else calling it those thin places where we feel God’s presence most profoundly. I can’t describe the emotions except that they are overwhelming, and somehow I know God is working in this messy heart of mine.
When I start to judge others, I sense God’s tug on my heart to “see” them as He sees them; to look beyond their actions to their hearts where He resides. The peace that it brings to my own heart is beyond words!
1 Corinthians 13:4-8 tells us, “Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up; does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil; does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails.”
There are some attributes of love I would like to focus on: “Love suffers long” and “bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things”.
Love suffers long
Okay. We’re already in trouble. We don’t want to suffer; we want the antidote! We want something to fix the problem. As human beings – even Christians – we really hate to suffer. Actually, many Christians believe God should protect them from suffering.
Scripture tells us of God’s deep longing for those who turn away from Him. This is not a God who cannot wait to punish us for our sinfulness. Instead, He longs to lavish us with His love despite our sinfulness.
Just as Jesus’ suffering and dying brought many sinners to salvation, and the apostles’ suffering and martyrdom brought others to God, our willingness to suffer well, whatever comes our way, is a witness to the power of God’s love in a broken world.
I have a friend whose marriage is terribly difficult. She has often threatened divorce. But God spoke to the depth of her heart that it was within her marriage that she would grow to be more like Him. It’s easy to love a newborn baby, a tiny puppy, or the perfect mother you’ve been blessed with. But what about those imperfect people?
Do you find yourself glaring at that lump of a husband on your sofa – you know, the one who’s guzzling beer and belching show tunes – and wondering where you went wrong? Then there’s that snarky neighbor you secretly wish would fall off the face of the earth.
There always seems to be someone anxious to make messes in our lives. Can’t we do something to make him or her pay? Don’t we have the right? The answer is a simple but emphatic “No!” God will handle that person, not us. Definitely not us.
Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, and endures all things.
When your wife comes home drunk…again, when your child is arrested on drug charges, when your cancer returns, when your aging parents make continual demands on you, who do you turn to? When you can’t lift your head off the pillow to face another day – how do you bear up, believe, hope, and endure all things? How do you go on when you cry out to God in despair but receive no answer?
You have to believe, truly believe, that the God of mercy loves you immeasurably. Nothing you suffer is lost to God’s watchful, loving care. No part of your life is without purpose. In the book of Genesis, God called Abraham to slay his beloved son Isaac. Could I have trusted God that much? No anonymous tipster in this story whispers, “Pssst, Abe! Just go along with it. He’ll stop you at the last minute. Trust me.” Nope, it didn’t happen that way. Abraham completely trusted God.
We can find incredible stories of people who have suffered persecution and abject loss throughout history. Yet, countless people have survived the unthinkable by believing in God’s promises and trusting in His love. From the darkness of despair comes the dawn of grace.
When we can’t see God or hear Him in the midst of our pain, we need to believe that His love for us is at the core of our being. “Blessed are those who suffer well and hope for things unseen, for theirs is the kingdom of God” (1 Corinthians 13:13). In suffering, we are comforted by God and, in turn, learn to comfort others.
What if Jesus’ story had been different? What if he had gone to the cross, kicking and screaming? He certainly had the right. He was being persecuted relentlessly. He had done nothing but love his Father and humankind during his life, and for that flawless behavior, he was crucified. He could have retaliated with an army of angels, but he didn’t. Instead, he was stripped, spat upon, mocked, and killed. He could have cursed his enemies to Hell. Instead, he prayed for them.
The world repaid Jesus’ love with hatred in the form of a cross. But the nails didn’t hold him there; love held him there. He chose to forgive in his final act of mercy: “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do” (Luke 23:34).
Jesus’ final hours speak volumes about my rejection of atonement theology. So many believe that Jesus had to die to atone for our sins. I’m sorry, I don’t buy it. I believe too many of us subscribe to the teaching that God’s anger over our sins required Jesus’ death. Doesn’t that create an image of a God bent on punishment who can’t wait for us to screw up? I keep imagining that Wack-A-Mole game. No thanks.
GOD IS LOVE…PERIOD. And because we were created in His image and loved beyond measure, we must also be that love to others. Jesus’ last command to us was to love. When did he tell us to hate, judge, and flip off that jerky neighbor? The last words out of Jesus’ mouth were to forgive, not to condemn.
My mother-in-law (God rest her beautiful soul) could offer you a perfect example of why God calls us to love. She bore the pain of losing a younger sister to cancer and the death of a beloved son. She struggled through a difficult marriage and other challenging relationships. And then I came along.
Forty-three years ago, I stood before her in a short skirt, a long wig, a seven-year-old daughter by my side, and a heathen attitude in my heart. I was self-centered and demanding. I resented the occasions when my husband would stop to see her after work. I was jealous.
For those and other reasons, she could have done what everyone else in my life had done – she could have rejected me or struck out at me. I would have understood that reaction; I was accustomed to it. But instead, she chose to love me despite my attitude.
Soon I could feel myself being drawn to her. She had something I wanted, and I didn’t even know what it was. But after being in her company and experiencing her selfless love for others – and for me – I was hooked. That was the beginning of my long (still ongoing) journey of change.
If I hadn’t experienced her love first-hand, I would most likely still be self-absorbed and wearing those dreaded short skirts (probably not a good idea for a sixty-eight-year-old grandmother!). I can imagine her reunion with God, “Come on, give us a hug, Catherine! Thank you for so brilliantly dealing with that mess of a daughter-in-law of yours! Well done, my good and faithful servant…well done!” (Matthew 25:23)
The greatest of these is love.
Scripture tells us the value that God places on love: “And now abide faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love” (1 Corinthians 13:13). love is a verb. It’s an action word. We can’t just give lip service to God’s commandment to love one another. If the action doesn’t match the words, it’s a lie. Jesus went beyond telling us that he loved us; he showed us and expects us to do the same.
How about 1 John 4:20 for a wake-up call? “If someone says, “I love God,” and hates his brother, he is a liar; for he who does not love his brother whom he has seen, how can he love God whom he has not seen?” Of course, we all know someone like that, but could we be accused of the same shortcoming?
God never promised us that His way would be easy. The Bible depicts a love unlike the worldly version: “Greater love has no one than this than to lay down one’s life for his friend” (John 15:13). How many people would you consider dying for? Hopefully, your children, your spouse, possibly other relatives (except crazy Uncle Bill), and most likely your dearest friends. Those friends would have to be your dearest ones, though! Fair-weather friends wouldn’t make the cut. How about an enemy? How about that crotchety neighbor you’ve had to contend with for years? How about that lying sneak of a co-worker who managed to get himself promoted to a job that was rightfully yours?
Although God’s love is freely given, it longs for a response. If fear holds us back, it masks who we really are. Fear clings to the old self, refuses to relinquish control, and attempts to tie the hands of the Holy Spirit.
And lest we forget, God’s sacrificial love infuses an inherent dignity in everyone! We, as Christians, have no monopoly on God. We don’t own Him, and we don’t have exclusive rights to him. This isn’t a private club. We are to be instruments of His love or our response, and our faith is inadequate at best and sinful at worst.
I would like to end with a quote from a sermon on Job once given by Archibald MacLeish. He said, “Man depends on God for all things; God depends on man for one. Only man can prove that man loves God.”
Gleefully we buy and wrap presents for everyone on our shortlist and ignore those on, you know, that other list! No sugar plums dancing in our heads because they are too filled with anger and resentments we revisit every year.
Instead of living in hopeful expectation of the coming of a Savior, we hope against hope that the one we hate so deeply will not be coming to Christmas dinner. We pretend to thank God for sending His beloved Son to reveal His deep and abiding love for us while we begrudge His creation of that so-and-so who makes our life a living hell.
Attempts to sing any Christmas song other than “Grandma (or the person I hate the most) Got Run Over by a Reindeer” is just not going to happen. And you swear that if you hear “Fa La La” one more time, you’re going to punch someone!
Christmas dredges up “stuff” that we try all year long to ignore. What is it about this season that should bring out the best instead of the worst in us? I don’t know for sure, but I believe it was intentional on God’s part. (He’s pretty clever that way.) Think about it. Other times of the year can trigger bad feelings in so many of our relationships. But Christmas just seems to profoundly manifest feelings that He wants us to overcome and heal from. Why?
What do you think is most important to God? Relationships, right? He is always about the business of teaching us how important they are: His relationship with us and ours with Him and with each other.
Every Christmas is supposed to remind us of a Divine Love that had to come to earth incarnated as the child Jesus so we could touch and feel it for ourselves. Whoa, that’s way too scary, so we just go to church instead. That’s easier and less demanding. Then we can hang onto our perceived righteous anger because we don’t want to let them off the hook, “I hope your Christmas sucks!”
And so, again, the need for forgiveness is upon us. Like that stupid elf on the shelf! Every morning, you get up knowing it’s there somewhere, watching your every move and hoping, maybe this time, you’ll manifest your best self.
Everyone screws up. Everyone! Yes, even you! All of us, at some time in our lives, will be called upon to forgive or to ask for forgiveness – usually both and usually often.
Of course, we can deceive ourselves into believing that we did that already. So, how will you know if you have? If the result of your forgiving or being forgiven has mended and restored that relationship you struggled in, then let me throw out an AMEN AND ALLALUAHA!!! However, you will be tested again and again if it has not been, especially if that person slips again.
Forgiveness will not change the past. Period. It may not make the present more bearable or the future more hopeful if the other person refuses to accept or offer forgiveness. That’s when we can so easily revert to our stance of hating them all over again.
Come on, we’re just as guilty as anyone else of doing something stupid and unforgivable. It’s human nature. That’s why God has to forgive us over and over again, though I have no doubt He does roll His eyes and smack His forehead while asking the proverbial question, “What were you thinking?!”
Nonetheless, He still forgives because He’s well aware of our incessant and unremitting screw-ups. He accepts all our foils if He knows we are doing our best. He loves us despite ourselves. I’m not sure how we can think for one moment that we can get away with giving anyone else grief for their sinfulness. Perhaps we all need to be reminded of the following scripture – A LOT!
Matthew 18:21-19:1 (loose translation), “Peter, all smug and sure of himself, asked the Lord how many times he is expected to forgive the dimwits in his life. He picked a number out of the air that he thought Jesus would agree to. How about seven? But Jesus rebuked him, ‘NOPE, wanna try again?’”
Oh boy, I feel a parable coming on. Jesus told Peter about the king who lined his servants up and demanded they settle their debts with him. All but one holdout did. He thought he could hedge his bets that the king would forgive him if he groveled enough, and amazingly he did.
In a sudden lapse of memory, the servant ran into a guy who owed him money and demanded it back, just like the king. The other guy begged him to give him more time. But, unlike the king, he refused and threw him in jail. The king got wind of it – oops, busted. He rescinded the jerk’s forgiven debt and threw him in jail too. There, take that, moron!
So, what about you? Is there a relationship you need to mend this Christmas? I believe the most challenging struggle we have is when we are in a close relationship with someone, and we can’t avoid them. The anger or hurt is always before us; if their attitude is indifference, we struggle even more. Our hurts are like open sores that never heal. So, instead of seeing the good that person may do, we forever carry around our “Jerk Meter”. AHA! There she goes again! Great! –now I’ll be up all night again. Just me at my pity party with my “Jerk Meter.”
Finally, my prayer for everyone, especially those who harbor past hurts and pain, is that you will see the Love of God anew. A Love meant to be carried into a hurting and broken world by us. So, instead of just stepping in the church’s doors this Christmas, step into the heart of someone who’s broken and in need of love – your love. You’ll probably find them sitting across from you at the dinner table.
Do you remember how long you believed in Santa? I remember slowly doubting when I was about seven. He became suspicious when my brother and sister began to make fun of me. But I didn’t want to stop believing. Christmas was magical. Santa made it so.
One year, my brother and I found all the presents wrapped up and hidden in a closet two weeks before Christmas. We shook them and then carefully peeled the tape away to see what was inside. Then wrapped them up and put them back in the closet.
As you might imagine, Christmas morning was a terrible disappointment to me. I couldn’t even pretend to be excited about the gifts I received, even though some were what I had asked for. But then, it was over: The magic, the mystery, the futile fight to stay awake just for a glimpse of Santa.
I was certain that my faith would be restored if I could see him just this once. Then, with tears streaming down my face, I could tell him that my brother and sister were VERY naughty all year and should both be turned into lumps of coal!
But that didn’t happen, and now I was doomed to a reality I was unwilling to face. I imagined the next thing to go was the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy. And then what? I couldn’t bear it!
But wait! Discovering Santa is likely the invention of parents who simply run out of creative ways to keep kids in line a few weeks a year may have a positive side.
(1) You were always told to keep your list short since Santa had to provide for the entire world! Now you could make your Christmas list longer and the requests more extravagant. Parents could do more than Santa because they only had to buy for a few kids and have deeper pockets. Sweet!
(2) You would not have to share the cookies and milk with him. You know how you always hated sharing, you little Grinch!
(3) Before, you knew you couldn’t return gifts to Santa because that would make him angry! Now, you can complain about the gifts received and demand they be returned to the store.
(4) Have you ever felt that Santa would be very disappointed in you if you did not give up your “gently used” toys for kids who had nothing? You could now ask your parents to write a check to their favorite charity allowing you to keep every last toy for your pathetic selfish self.
(5) What about those stupid pictures on Santa’s lap? He was creepy and made you cry.
(Tenor GIF)
(6) And – best of all – there would be no pesky “list” Santa would check to ad nauseum. “I’m watching you, you little monster. I saw what you just did to your sister! That’s going on your permanent record.”
Okay, enough about Santa. Let’s get serious. 1 Corinthians 13:11 tells us we should put away childish things. You’re an adult now….right? Right?! It should be no surprise to you that Christmas was never about Santa. Give me a great big “DUH!” I can’t hear you. Oh, Lord… I’m afraid this is not going to go well! But let’s just jump right in. Shall we?
What about Christ? What about your faith? If you say you’re a Christ-follower, there are profound implications to consider. Professing Christ does not simply amount to the word games we play to dodge God’s wrath. It doesn’t matter how you talk about Christ if there is still a void on the inside.
What matters is how you “live” Christ in your day-to-day. Are you indeed “living” Christ’s message to love others and serve a hurting world? That should come from the core of who you are as the image and likeness of God.
Faith that is shallow and superficial can be enormously attractive to lazy Christians seeking cheap grace. You think you have enough to do just paying the bills and trying to one-up your snooty neighbors. Those ladders to climb, that big house to fuss over, gossiping, weekly therapy. They all require your valuable time. It’s exhausting.
God will have to find someone else to do the other work that doesn’t appeal to you. How about that retired guy down the street? He needs something to keep him busy and out of his wife’s hair.
Do you simply go to church on Sunday, hide in the back just to get your card punched, and sneak out before anyone notices? Then be sure you skip “Mission Sunday,” and “Sponsor a Poor Family Sunday,” and “Stewardship Sunday” – it just makes you squirm in the pew when the guy walks by with that basket he shakes as he stares you down. By the way, he’s not really doing that. It’s just your guilt getting the best of you.
Never buy into the idea that the abundant love God pours on you is a free gift – no strings attached. It’s just a trick to reel you in. Nothing in this world is “free.” You know you’re gonna have to pay him back. And from past experience, you know that’s simply an exercise in futility. Better to just not accept it in the first place.
And best of all, having “religion” in place of relationship makes you accountable to no one. So you can just skip merrily along without ever having to “give an answer” to anyone for how you lived your wretched, despicable, miserable life. Sounds lovely.
If you must relieve occasional guilt for your indifference to the world around you, send a check – commensurate with the size and scope of that guilt – to a charity of your choice. You could take it out of those excess funds you spend so frivolously on your pathetic selfish self.
So there you have it. That’s how underwear ends up in your stocking, and Jesus becomes irrelevant. Neither is a pretty sight, and neither will bring you joy on Christmas morning.
We can “pretend” to be excited about the whole “Jesus is the reason for the season” message. But it’s like this: even if you LOVE the underwear you receive for Christmas, it’s not likely anyone will know unless you wear it on the outside.
And even if you say you LOVE Jesus and your neighbor, it won’t be evident unless you are carrying him and his love for you and your neighbor on the inside in that place where there is a void you have been trying to fill with other things.
So, come on now, take that leap of faith. What you might find this Christmas are blessings beyond your wildest imaginings and a new year filled with wonder and awe – presented by our God, who longs to love you deeply and extravagantly!
Well, I’m still here in case you were wondering – or even if you couldn’t care less (in which case, I don’t suppose you’d be reading this). Regardless, here we go…
For over a year, I went kicking and screaming into a sudden and uncertain reality. In the process, I have slowly, often unwillingly, been discovering who I am in the midst of loss, pain, and sorrow. The world I thought would never change – changed – without any warning. NOT FAIR!
I reasoned (something my A.D.D. brain should know by now to question) that it was time for a change. So, I packed up my former self, one box, one picture, one memory at a time. I suddenly realized I had been trying to suppress the uncertainty of my future with superficial words and inadequate certitudes, “I’m fine. Really!” – even though it may appear that I’m losing my shit!
Some “experts” encourage us to act “as if” _________(fill in the blank) until it becomes our truth. So, I did – or at least I tried. But, in pretending I was already there, I believe I also denied the necessary process of change. So, does acting “as if” my life is often a total shitstorm count? Because right now it is – no acting required.
Jen Hatmaker beautifully describes the inevitable change of seasons in life, “It can be difficult to envision a new start but impossible to deny one. This is your work. No one can do it for you. Something doesn’t have to be bad to be over. That season has possibly given you everything it had to offer; it shaped and developed you, and it stretched and inspired you. We are not entirely rebranded with each new season; we simply build the next layer. As a testament to our design, we are capable of preserving the best of each season while rejecting the worst. The human heart is shockingly resilient. We need to get better at permission and grace.”
The pictures are packed up now, leaving bare walls and lots of nail holes my husband never knew about because, well, why measure when you can just eyeball distance, even if you suck at it! I didn’t take the time to count, but I’m pretty sure there were at least five or six holes behind each picture!
But I digress…
It has become clear to me that I have been stuck in the past. God tells us to stay out of there and move on, trusting Him every step of the way. The past certainly formed my identity to this point, and I am grateful for all of its lessons. But that’s not the end of my story or my journey. Hatmaker says, “You can care about new things and new beginnings and new people. Carry on, sister!” Carry on, indeed!
(Tenor GIF)
God wants me, wants all of us, to boldly step into each new day, believing every life experience, good or bad, will influence how we impact our world. Our loving God has created our most outlandishly gifted, magnificently designed selves for that very purpose.
It’s time to grab onto the desire of my heart that has been sitting too long and aching to be acknowledged, that one passion refusing to fade away no matter how much I have tried to ignore it.
Here we are in Advent again – sitting in darkness, in wonder and awe, anticipating the birth of Christ. Each year, we imagine Mary, not so quietly, sitting in prayer after Gabriel shook her world to its foundation! She had to be blindsided by Gabriel’s visit to her.
Imagine that encounter, if you can. “Hey, Mary! I have some exciting news! This Christmas will be a bit different for you because you’ve been selected – drum roll please – to be the Mother of Jesus! You’ve been chosen from several applicants, some of whom had some pretty sketchy character flaws, I might add. Anyway, I know you have lots of questions. Like, ‘why me?’ or ‘whose Jesus?’ or better still, ‘what’s Christmas?’. We’ll get to all that eventually.”
I’m not gonna lie; like Mary, I also questioned God’s wisdom when he approached me with some fun new adventure. Admittedly, nothing as earth-shattering as birthing Jesus, but still.
Though she was blessed with extraordinary parents who excelled at Parenting 101, training her up by their example, she was still just a teenager. Would she accept God’s call? Of course, we know she did humbly offer her “yes” to God. That response had to come from the depths of her heart, even amid the doubt and fear.
I was just a teenager when my daughter was born, and I can assure you that if I would have had the good sense to consider the magnitude of raising a child and loving her well, I would have been scared to death! Unlike Mary, I had no positive role models to emulate.
It was trial by fire, and I made plenty of mistakes, later requesting a do-over from God – which He never granted. However, in His infinite love, mercy, and forgiveness, He tenderly held and began healing my brokenness and infusing His love into my relationship with my daughter. I suppose you could call that a do-over.
I still question God’s thinking each time He comes up with a new plan, sending me in an uncertain direction. Thinking I know myself better than He does, I want to leave my options open. Okay, I’ll go this far, but no further. I’ll wait this long, but no longer. I’ll trust you with this, but not with that. Admittedly, it’s usually in hindsight that I see the progression of things God put in place to provide everything I needed short of my “yes”.
Years ago, I recall striking out on my own to do “volunteer work” and maybe get a few brownie points for heaven. But, in short order, I realized that each opportunity brought me closer to the realization of my passion and purpose.
And guess what…you’re not off the hook, my friend. God has called each one of us to be Christ-bearers. Scary, huh? Take a deep breath. It’s okay.
When we can’t see how we could possibly accomplish the task God sets before us, it takes trust and faith, like Mary, to say “yes” in the midst of our doubts and fears. And let’s get this straight now, it won’t be “Savior of the world” that job’s taken! Sorry.
Keep in mind that God doesn’t do ordinary. He does PASSION AND PURPOSE – OVER THE TOP!
When it’s God’s plan, it will not fail. He will see it through to completion. Jeremiah tells us so (29:11). Think of it, if he relied on us to figure it out by ourselves, we would surely mess it up and make Him look bad. This, in turn, may cause others who are watching to reconsider any thought of trusting him. “WOW, Linda! You royally screwed that one up! And wasted a whole lot of time and energy in the process. No thanks. I’m not goin’ there. I have better things to do.”
Keep in mind that it’s God who initiates His plans for us, not the other way around. He doesn’t consult us in that process! Take Job for instance, he found that out the hard way! It wasn’t pretty when God confronted his whiny self, “Hey buddy, when I was creating the world out of nothing, I don’t recall seeing you there or consulting you on how to keep the oceans in their place or how to make a Zebra from scratch (and, yes, that was intentional).
Did I ask you for pointers on how to paint a breath-taking sunset? Whew, I outdid myself on that one. That was brilliant! Even if I do say so myself. And, of course, the myriad of other uniquely spectacular feats of creation that no one has been able to top.
And what about my grand finale? Humans. Huh? Yeah, I know, that was genius. Sure, there have been a few hiccups along the way – okay, fine – major human failings. But that’s not My fault! It’s you guys never seeming to get your part right.”
So, this Christmas, as we are reminded once again of the remarkable story of Christ’s birth – God’s love coming to us with skin on, I pray we will listen for and accept His call to us to be Christ-bearers in whatever way He has prepared us, just as He did with Mary.
Go ahead, allow yourself to sit in the darkness with God, and bravely ask him what you are here for. His answer will surely surprise you. And I guarantee you that if you utter that one little word, “yes,” be prepared because there will be no more business as usual.
My prayer for this Christmas is hope for a better, more peaceful, and loving world that begins with God and is manifest through us, just as it was with Mary and Jesus so long ago.
Episcopal Archbishop Michael Curry speaks so powerfully of the murder of Tyre Nichols and so many others, “There is a passage from the Hebrew prophet Jeremiah, which is later quoted in Matthew’s Gospel when innocent baby boys are killed by an immoral dictator: “A voice is heard in Ramah, lamentation and bitter weeping. Rachel is weeping for her children; she refuses to be comforted for her childrenbecause they are no more.”—Jeremiah 31:15, Matthew 2:18
With the murder of Tyre Nichols, another mother, as in the biblical texts, weeps, with the mothers of Emmett Till, Trayvon Martin, Michael Brown, George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery, and so many others. A family grieves. A community fears. A nation is ashamed. Like the psalmist in the Bible, something in us cries out, “How long, O Lord, how long?” How long violence, how long cruelty, how long the utter disregard for the dignity and worth of every child of God? How long?”
While watching the violent murder of Tyre Nichols, I was shaken to my core, as I was each time before. But this time, there was something different. I have cried tears over the injustice, but that’s not enough. Tears don’t impact or change anything. I think that’s called sympathy without action – or, God’s favorite, being lukewarm (Rev 3:16).
I can no longer feel the horror and not be moved to do something. What? – you ask. “You’re an old white grandma. Turn off the TV and go knit something.” Those voices that once allowed me to retreat back into complacency were now drowned out by God’s voice calling me to “go”. As usual, he never seems to specify where or when. Like Abraham. Just go.
Since then, I have sat with, prayed about, and struggled with my deepest beliefs about who I am as a professed follower of Christ, who my neighbor is, and who we are as a nation. The most profound question for me that has arisen now is if and how I, as a Christian, am not only culpable but what I am called to do.
It has been messy and fluid with so many nuances, but here it is. This is a thought process that I began for my own understanding. But trying to know anything concerning God and the way he operates without any doubts is futile. I know that, but I keep going back there.
The need to know and understand presupposes that somehow we can reason this out. That’s a great start, but it can’t stop there. And that’s the rub. My head wants answers. My heart wants to trust that God already knows how he wants me to respond.
We want to stop before that. Let’s just go to church – get our card punched –done – go home, and watch football or knit (BTW, I don’t even know how to knit). But Jesus never said, “Worship me”. He said, “Follow me”.
You may disagree with me when it’s all said and done, and that’s fine. But I believe it is incumbent upon each of us to take a stand once and for all to be Christ in this hurting world. To stop pretending to be the person we claim to be only when others are watching.
We should be more concerned that God is watching! And it’s not the god who keeps a running total of our church attendance and tithing spreadsheet. That would be a shallow, small-minded god who is out to get you if you make one wrong move.
The God I’m going to stick with tells us explicitly how we are to live and move and have our being in the world through the uncompromising words of Paul in 1 Corinthians 13: 1-13 that end with, “And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is “…following the “rules” some guys made up over beers in a bar…wait…no…that’s not it…sorry. Just seeing if you’re paying attention.
The greatest of these is Love.
Many of us will choose between love and hate. I’m guessing a lot more prefer to think of themselves as neutral – it feels safer. But that stance needs to be reckoned with too. Too much is at stake. God is adamant about it when he says, “I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other! So because you are lukewarm—neither hot nor cold—I am about to spit you out of my mouth.” (Rev 3:16).
(quotesgram)
Let’s say you agree that you must decide where you stand and why. The “why” is critical. Stopping short of fully embracing your “why” leaves you wobbly and vulnerable to anyone who can shove you off-balance. I have had that happen more times than I care to admit.
So, this is where I landed: As a Christian, I am compelled to consider my life and purpose from my essence, my very being, where God resides. Not from any outside influence. If I own up to being a follower of Christ, how I live that life is to manifest his love in every moment and with every decision.
It has challenged me to look honestly at how I am doing that in light of Jesus’ words in John 13:35, “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another”. Nowhere does Jesus tell us to only love those like us, those who don’t threaten our comfort level.
Remember Jonah, who seriously needed a bath because of the awful fish smell after God told the whale to “Spit him out. I think he has learned his lesson”? So, here I am, a modern-day Jonah, always asking God for a different assignment. “Can I pick this time, Lord?!” And God is saying, “Nope”.
Update – 6/15/24:
When I wrote this in 2023, I knew my actions had to match my words. I prayed God would take my words, which I meant deeply, and turn them into action. He obliged.
I was given the opportunity to participate in a chaplaincy training. After completion, I connected with a Chaplain at the Juvenile Detention Center and began work as a volunteer chaplain there. I can’t describe to you how incredibly blessed I feel to be praying with and loving on the kids there! It’s beyond what I imagined over a year ago when I felt that initial tug from God as I read Archbishop Curry’s words.
I’m reminded of God’s promise in Psalm 138:8, “The Lord will fulfill his purpose for me.” But he needs my “Yes”. He’ll even settle for a shaky, uncertain, hesitant “yes”!
So, you think you’re not good enough. You’re certain you’re too flawed, too messed up, and have made too many mistakes to ever be considered useful for God.
(Tenor images)
You said you really wanted help with that character flaw that keeps showing up at the most inopportune time. Like, I don’t know, when you cut and pasted a not-so-well-done image of yourself hugging a leper and posted it on your Church’s Facebook page just before a committee was considering the recipient of their “Woman of the Year” Award! What’s wrong with you?!
Well, guess what? In spite of all that baggage you carry, you are actually, no kidding, a saint in God’s eyes. So, you might as well suck it up and live like that’s your truth. I suppose the big question is, how do you even start believing that when the world tells you you’re as likely to be a saint as you are to birth an elephant?
How about starting here – get over yourself!
Have you ever read the life stories of some of the most beloved saints? I have. And I want to tell you, for a split second, I will think I have the tiniest micro chance of being one of those impossible, messy, screwed-up humans that God will actually use. I know. Crazy huh?
Go ahead, google some of their stories. A few of my favorites are Henri Nouwen, Thomas Merton, Esther (more about her later), and, now, the one I wish I was named after, Dorothy Day! She totally rocked the “lost and broken” definition of imperfection. Yet, as I write this, her case awaits the crowning achievement bestowed by the Catholic Church: “Sainthood”, where she would likely be defined as the Patron Saint of the most-impossible-screwed-up-humans-on-earth.
But don’t hold your breath, and don’t look for her statue to adorn your in-home shrine. Don’t hold out hope of having her pray for that impossible brother of yours. And don’t think for a minute she would ever want any of it anyway!
Let’s have a glimpse of her life before she was presented all shiny and cleaned up to the “sainthood committee”. Here it is in a nut-shell by Patricia Lefevere, “her cause for sainthood has been initiated even in the wake of a lifetime that included allegiance to the Communist party, affairs, an abortion, divorce, an out-of-wedlock birth, two suicide attempts and a youth colored by excessive drinking, chain-smoking, and a lurid vocabulary, as well as estrangement from her father and older brothers.” The rumble in Dorothy Day’s soul still quakes 40 years after her death | National Catholic Reporter (ncronline.org)
I’m not sure the Church Saint Select Committee will agree with Richard Rohr who tells us: “We grow spiritually much more by doing it wrong than by doing it right. Saints do not live in some other world….They live in the same world we do, and they show us that spirituality is intensely down-to-earth. We learn to love through frustration, disappointment, and failure. We learn through the seemingly trivial incidents of our daily lives.”
Brene Brown agrees: “It is in the process of embracing our imperfections that we find our truest gifts: courage, compassion, and connection.”
Jim Forest encapsulates Day’s virtues that we can all aspire to: “She helped us understand a merciful life has many levels: There is hunger not only for food, but also for faith; not only for a place at the table, but also for a real welcome; not only for assistance, but also for listening; not only for kind words, but also for truthful words.”
I have no doubt God calls us all to serve “for such a time as this”, as my favorite heroine, Esther, says. But, we can’t seem to buy into her words at the end of her proclamation, “…and if I die, I die.” Oops.
Her words have always spoken so profoundly to me. Esther was incredibly brave. She was willing to die for love of her people, just like the apostles after Jesus and the Holy Spirit instilled a brave heart in each of them: a boldness that surprised everyone around them. (Not bad for the kids who probably had their mothers check for monsters under the bed at night.) This was a boldness even they didn’t realize they had when before, they ran and hid in fear! Beloved misfits – every one of them!
But, I ask you to keep in mind that none of them expected God to intervene to save them or change their situation. We see it in so much of Scripture: Daniel being tossed in the lion’s den, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego in that whole blazing furnace incident (Daniel 3). (You can almost see them roasting marshmallows in there! Okay, maybe not). Anyway…
Today, we are called to that same bravery; to trust that God is right beside us and that our tears and heartache are His as well. He holds us and loves us through all of our trials. That will never change. That we can have certitude about.
Beyond that, we have to trust and cling to Him even when He seems silent in our suffering. I know, that totally sucks and usually isn’t what we signed up for. Most of what happens in life, we will never understand this side of eternity. I have learned to be okay with that, and it has given me a great deal of peace along with a smidgeon of courage. Think mustard seed.
It can sorta feel like God’s performing a root canal on your heart. It hurts – A LOT – at first. But it’s often necessary for our healing. (Just an aside, I always took the coward’s way and opted out of root canal! No thanks, Just pull it, and I’ll be on my way. I now realize that if I do that anymore, I will soon be eating baby food! Have you ever eaten baby food? Yeah – that’s my point.)
So, let’s remember:
When the world seems to be falling apart, we tend to look down rather than up to a God who never falters.
When we lose hope and get swallowed up in the muck and mire of life, God reminds us of His steadfast promise to never leave us.
When we feel alone in our brokenness, God holds our trembling heart.
When the injustice of the world seems overwhelming, God calls us to boldness and courage to model a spirit of love that can infuse the hearts of those who are watching. And you can bet people are watching.
God needs you, all of you, even the broken parts, especially the broken parts that are more of a beacon of hope for others than the shiny parts we put on display. And you can relax. They’re not looking for a Savior. That job’s already taken.
It may seem crazy to imagine Satan having any defining joy in his life. Seriously! Does he countdown days to special holidays? Review photos of favorite vacations with the family? Post pics of him and his buds at a hockey game? Laugh hysterically at anything remotely comical?!
Well…there is one thing – and only one thing – that does get him all giddy in the midst of his miserableness, and we stupid humans seem to love indulging him. It happens when we judge others and refuse to forgive. That is what Satan thrives on, and we seem so eager to comply, even those of us who profess to be Christians. I would go so far as to say “especially” Christians, get sucked into that ego-driven sense of superiority over others. I have to confess that I am just as guilty, though I’d like to believe I’m better than I used to be. I suppose it depends on who you ask.
Nearly twenty years ago, I thought the “revelation” that came to me about forgiveness when I was in Kentucky (which I wrote about in my book) was my most profound life-changing moment ever! Until it wasn’t. Even though I came away from that experience proclaiming the magical, mystical healing power of God!
Oh, sure, I played the game. The “I’m fine. Great actually. No, really! I’m totally healed of all my past shit” game! The game God reveals when, for a split second, I get out of His way. That moment when I let my guard down and leave just a crack in the door of my hardened heart and He shoves His foot in before I can slam it shut again. I hate when that happens!
Recently, I was confronted again by the call of God to forgive. The two people that caused me the most suffering and hurt – my mother, and the relative I have never named publicly, have both passed away. The funeral services were unremarkable and sparsely attended. The realization of that struck me profoundly! Two people who caused me so much hurt, I believe now, suffered more than I did. I never considered that possibility.
I was given the gift of grace when I was able to see the brokenness of their lives and truly feel empathy for them. Yes, they both made messes in my life, but I have also experienced healing and, as a result, have, for the most part, lived a rich and fulfilled life.
I have been blessed with a loving family and friends and have so much to be thankful for. Most importantly, a God who never gives up on me, never keeps count of my sinfulness, and loves me unconditionally often in spite of my foolishness and forgetfulness of His mercy and love. The profound truth of God’s love gets so lost when we prefer to live on the periphery where it is safer, and Satan tries his best to keep us there.
A life of faith has always been about transformation, our dying to self, and being renewed. It takes place when we step outside our theology of reward and punishment; when we decide we are bone-tired of suffering and causing the suffering of others. It happens when we step into the terror as well as the awesomeness of being human. In that place, God does His best work and can awaken the creation of something new within us. (2 Corinthians 5:17)
Father Richard Rohr tells us, “For many of us, suffering is a cycle. We go back and forth, holding on and letting go, healing, hurting anew, and healing again. Suffering, of course, can lead us in either of two directions: (1) it can make us very bitter and cause us to shut down, or (2) it can make us wise, compassionate, and utterly open, because our hearts have been softened.
We’re not perfect. The project of learning how to love—which is our only life project—is quite simply learning to accept this….If you really love anybody then you have learned to accept a person despite, and sometimes even because of, their faults.”
Also consider these thoughts of Desmond Tutu on what he calls “Essential Humility”, “We are able to forgive because we are able to recognize our shared humanity. We are able to recognize that we are all fragile, vulnerable, flawed human beings capable of thoughtlessness and cruelty. We also recognize that no one is born evil and that we are all more than the worst thing we have done in our lives. A human life is a great mixture of goodness, beauty, cruelty, heartbreak, indifference, love, and so much more.“
For three years, Jesus walked with and taught his disciples. He dared to love those cast aside by society. He healed the sick, turned unbelieving hearts toward God, and challenged those who believed they held the ultimate power.
The problem was that his disciples wanted to follow him on their terms. But, time and again, they failed. Why? Their desire to change was frustrated by their inability to know God as Jesus knew Him. Their frame of reference for God’s love was within the realm of deserving and undeserving. It was something they could control through their actions.
In Jesus’ Passion and death, they witnessed his total self-giving to his Father. So likewise, God revealed His radically gratuitous love for his Son, the disciples, and us through the resurrection. Though that love is given freely, it calls for a response from us. I can’t help but wonder if that’s why we, like the Israelites, settle at the foot of the mountain in a comfortable, risk-free faith. “Nuh-uh, I ain’t goin’ up there!”
Before Jesus’ crucifixion, all of his wishy-washy disciples ran away in fear of meeting the same fate. (Just a little reminder here: the women stayed! You know that, right? Power to the women!)
Anyway, the manly men finally came out of hiding and ran headlong into Jesus transfigured. There was now no denying that what they witnessed they were compelled to share with a lost and hurting world. That reality released within them an unshakable love beyond their human capacity.
Can we possibly grasp the implications of that Love in our own lives? We zealously take care of “number one” in a world laden with mistrust and fear. How does that correlate with the fact that we were made in the image of God? It doesn’t.
As Christians, we, too, were created anew by the resurrection and empowered by the Holy Spirit. That is Good News! And we have a mandate to take that Good News into the world. If fear holds us back, it is grounded in the denial of who we are. God’s sacrificial love is meant for all, and I am to be an instrument of that Love, or my faith response is inadequate.
Confession time. For as long as I can remember, I have wanted to be an “instrument” of God’s love on my own terms, just like the disciples, and I blew it – big time – just like they did! But I’m still breathing, so I still have time for a course correction. Sooooo, let me get all my “stuff” out there now and pray for that clean slate God is so good at freely offering us. You might want to fasten your seatbelt!
I always felt the need for certitude about something, anything, in my messed up, confused, and broken life, but I wasn’t sure about trusting that to God. I mean, up to that point, He didn’t seem to pay any mind to me or my trials. So, I was convinced I was screaming into an echo chamber when I complained about the raw deal life handed me. It sucked for real! So, I went about creating a new and different me, and it seemed to work just fine – on the outside – for a while– until it didn’t.
After my husband and I were married, I became a card-carrying member of the Catholic Church. Then with a cross around my neck and a big fish on the bumper of my car, I sat and waited for the angels to break out in song. It never happened. I never got so much as a thumbs up or atta girl.
For several years after my official dunking, I lived in a state of doubt, always questioning the very essence of my faith. I read the Bible from front to back even though my eyes glazed over, trying to wrestle with the Old Testament. Still, I came away from that experience believing I now knew everything about everything God, Jesus, Spirit, and leprechauns (Okay, not leprechauns, I just threw that in to see if you were paying attention), but God, Jesus, and Spirit, yes!
I was also good at making others look bad to make me look better. I could easily admonish them for all their faults and failures without skipping a beat. I could even quote Scripture verses to shore up my convictions. “Oh yeah, you think you’re a shoo-in for heaven? Well, I’ve got news for you – you’re screwed. Matthew says so, ‘For the gate is narrow, and the way is hard that leads to life, and those who find it are few – very few – almost no one!’” (Matt. 7:13–14). I hate to tell you (NOT!), but this is not your lucky day, and tomorrow ain’t lookin’ too good either if you don’t change your ways! Don’t say I didn’t warn you. You’re welcome!
Jesus side-eyed me for my attitude more times than I care to admit!
(Tenor)
Then, one fine day in 2006, I was accepted into a graduate program at Aquinas Institute of Theology! Yeah, surprised the hell out of me too! Now, I thought I would have even more ammunition in my arsenal to judge and condemn others while promoting myself. Sweet!
I have shared my experiences at Aquinas in previous posts. So, let me just say that, like Paul, I was knocked off my high horse and taken to task because of an arrogant assessment of myself. It was not pretty.
Since I am very hard-headed (duh), my transformation was is, very slow. Truth be told, I muddled along for several years after graduation trying to sustain my convictions. After all, who would I be if not this person I created to reinforce my sense of self, albeit a very fragile and false self?
So I trudged along searching – for what? I didn’t know. Longing for something out there that could give my life meaning. I tried desperately to fill the void. I left the Catholic Church in frustration and wandered into other Christian churches. Some sent me running out the door with my hair on fire! Why was I struggling to find a faith with the correct beliefs that spoke to me? For a moment, I considered communing alone with nature! Then I envisioned St. John the Baptist running naked in the woods, eating bugs and swatting mosquitoes! No thanks.
And then – drum roll please – my glorious and long overdue AHA moment arrived at my doorstep unannounced. In my search for a belief system that I could buy into, I suddenly realized what I was actually longing for. At that moment, experience and dogma clashed head-on, and I understood that I wasn’t searching for correct beliefs. That has never been what drew me to God.
The experiences along the way showed me God’s love beyond anything I had ever known. It just took this long to accept that God could love me like that. Experiencing God in relationship, not knowledge of God, wells up within the very depth of our hearts – where He resides. I was finally home within my very being – where my deepest longing and hunger reside.
I could beat myself up for all the years I wasted wanting faith on my terms, but God has spoken tenderly into my brokenness and heartache. That voice was not a voice of condemnation that I was taught to believe was God’s.
It’s not helpful that we are reminded every Lenten season that He had His beloved Son killed because of our wretchedness. NO! I believe Jesus was killed by a power structure that feared him. He lived a life that he had to know would get him killed, but he did it anyway out of a self-giving love at the core of his being.
I now trust that the God I long to surrender to also longs for me. The God who knew His Son would suffer terribly and die showed us His unwavering love, mercy, compassion, and forgiveness in the person of Jesus. John 15:12-13 tells us: “My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.”
Seeing Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection in the context of John’s gospel of love has cast a new and beautiful light on what I now see when he says, “I am the way”. His life and love show me that if I follow in his way, I will be living my purpose: to love unconditionally, serve where I am called, and offer freely the same forgiveness and mercy God has shown me.
The Easter question for us becomes, “What do you believe about me?” What I say I believe must manifest itself in the way I live my life, or it is a lie.
Last year, an unwelcome course correction arrived at my doorstep with the sudden passing of my husband. My life came to a screeching halt as I faced the stark reality of being thrust into the unknown and the numbing emptiness that followed.
I unwillingly became a part of a club with no guidelines, rules, or secret handshake. I was signed up without permission and couldn’t “cancel at any time”.
The blessings that came from a forty-seven-year marriage were overshadowed for most of this past year by regrets over things said or done, the if onlys, and lost opportunities. I thought that dark cloud would not dissipate. It totally sucked.
I needed someone to complain to. Ahhhhh, God. I could complain to God. I’m so good at that. But the last time I tried, it went something like this:
Me: dialing the number I found on the Internet…
The message in response:
Dial 1 to leave a message of gratitude.
Dial 2 to leave a complaint. You will be prompted to whine, grovel, and beg.
(FYI – this box is not monitored).
How in the world did I fool myself into believing that my life would just keep plugging along with only a few potholes here and bumps in the road there until I drifted unceremoniously into eternity? I was lulled into believing that the way my life was going would not change drastically or without some kind of damn warning.
Wrinkles and gray hair warn you. They don’t just show up one fine morning. Instead, they tiptoe in without much fanfare, giving you plenty of time to disguise them before your next high school reunion. The aches and pains of aging sneak around your joints like a ninja, which mercifully eases you into the acceptance that your running days are over.
For as long as I can remember, each day of my life seemed to blend into the next. Birthdays piling one on top of another were no more thought-provoking than a trash can filling up. Any thought of purpose or meaning was often left unaddressed until tomorrow, next week, or….
I think life’s subtle changes are meant as a wake-up call. But they’re too subtle for me. They need to scream loudly into my failure to act before it’s too late…but…oh yeah…pride helped me ignore the fact that I probably needed a hearing aid. Until now – until this.
Then, just as suddenly as I was knee-jerked into widowhood, the dark cloud lifted to reveal God’s promise to turn my mourning into dancing (Psalm 30:11).
Being thrust into the pain of loss must become the catalyst for change, for the hope that there is more to this life. Or why do we even bother? Matthew 4:16 says, “The people who sat in darkness have seen a great light.” Jesus came along and spent his life showing us how to live abundantly in that light despite the darkness.
Then, one morning, God spoke into my broken heart, “This is your new reality, Linda. You’re still here. You are surrounded by My love, the love of an amazing family, and supportive, loving friends. Now get up, dust yourself off, and do what you were created to do. Because if you haven’t learned anything else this past year, you surely have realized that this one precious life you have is short. Quit wasting it! Roll up your pity party mat and GO!”
I will leave you with two of the most powerful quotes that have helped me move beyond my sorrow:
Gian Carlo Menotti wants us to let this sink in, “Hell begins on the day when God grants us a clear vision of all that we might have achieved, of all the gifts which we have wasted, of all that we might have done which we did not do.”
John Shelby Spong tells us, “It is to live not frightened by death, but rather called by the reality of death to go into our humanity so deeply and so passionately that even death is transcended.”
For the year of 2005, my husband and I had the incredible opportunity to live in Belfast, Northern Ireland and work for Habitat for Humanity. During that year, we learned about a sectarian conflict there known as The Troubles.
After thirty years of hatred and violence, some were able to forgive and learned to love neighbors once considered the enemy. But, there was also an ongoing refusal of others to let go of their hatred. Annual Orange Day parades continued to fuel division year after year since the Peace Accords of 1998. Many parents passed that hatred on to their children. Today, the divisiveness and conflict may be played out differently, but it is still a reality, often manifested in rival gangs.
Ten years later, we were in Rwanda and learned about the horrendous massacre of thousands of men, women, and children slaughtered by their own neighbors. Most of the perpetrators of those atrocities were never brought to justice. They scattered into the mountains or other countries and regrouped. They’re still out there causing mayhem and promoting hatred.
Now, here we are, reliving hatred and strife in America that is pitting us against each other. Extremist groups fueled by years of hatred going back to the days of slavery and Jim Crow are more and more emboldened today to act out that hatred. Encouraged by a wink and a nod from the President. Some White Evangelical churches advocating their claim of being “Christian” – cling to power presumed given them by God.
What is going on? Did Jesus lose his way? Or have we reinvented him and relegated him to your buddy?
(Tenor images)
Let’s listen in on a few guys trying to figure it all out for themselves – perhaps you can relate:
One night a few friends gathered in a neighborhood bar. Their conversation quickly turned to questions about how to overcome fear and frustration over the current crisis playing out over their backyard fences, at family dinners, and in the news. The violence and anger coming from all sides made it hard for them to reconcile with their beliefs.
They were a varied group: two Catholic brothers – one “devoted” (as in a follower of all the “rules”) and the other lukewarm (as in “rules suck”), a Presbyterian, and a Baptist. After several beers, they found it challenging to reach any consensus on what part they played as Christians. They were even struggling to agree on what a “Christian” was.
Before departing, they jokingly decided to invite Jesus to their whine fest the following week so they could drill him to see if he could help them come to some agreement on the most basic fundamentals of their Christian faith.
They weren’t looking for clarity on what was true, noble, and right as much as fodder for their arguments. Something they could use to counter those they disagreed with. But none of them would admit to that. There were stark differences they could not overcome. They each held on to who was right and who was totally on the path to hell. At an impasse, they would let Jesus decide.
So, on the allotted day, they all showed up for a second installment of “My god can beat up your god”. And who shows up? – Jesus (through the front door, not the wall). “Hey, guys, what’s up?” Still in shock that he actually came, they offered him a chair and a beer…or…uh…wine. He took a seat and declined the alcohol, “I’m driving, but you go ahead.”
Then, right out of the gate, one guy at the table explained what had happened the prior week and why they invited him (as if he didn’t know…DUH!). Anyway, the conversation begins but immediately deteriorates into the same dispute as before. Each of them chimes in with their “beliefs”. Then someone has the foresight to ask the “Expert” sitting right in their midst, “Jesus, how would you resolve this?”
Jesus sits quietly for a moment, and then the men observe his eyes welling up with tears. They are shocked and don’t know how to react. Why isn’t he angry and pounding his fist like we do? Why isn’t he pointing out people to blame? There are plenty of them: the media, politicians, white supremacists, and other so-called Christians.
Jesus’ weeping felt akin to when their wives would cry about something they could not get their heads around – like the broccoli soufflé that fell right before Christmas dinner with the in-laws. And, buddy, you learned quickly that your response better not be some lame man-up comment because you just want that awkward moment to be over! How’d that work for you? Exactly.
This Jesus moment was like that. Sure, he was known to throw a few tables around when he got mad, but we only see that once in all of Scripture. why don’t we just put that angry, show em’ who’s boss, can’t-control-his-temper-just-like-me Jesus to rest? Sorry.
So the world is falling apart, and Jesus weeps. That’s it? That’s all he can offer us? What are we supposed to do with that? Well, let’s see:
Joan Chittister says of weeping, “Indeed, few of us see our weeping as a spiritual gift or a matter of divine design. But we are wrong. Weeping is a very holy and life-giving thing. It sounds alarms for a society and wizens the soul of the individual. If we do not weep on the personal level, we shall never understand humanity around us. If we do not weep on the public level, we are less than human ourselves.”
The Rabbi Hanoch of Alexander offers, “There are…some things that ought not to be endured. There are some things worth weeping about lest we lose our sense of self. We must always cope with evil, of course, but we must never adjust to it. We must stay eternally restless for justice.”
Chittister concludes, “If we do not allow ourselves to face and feel pain…our lies about life shrink our hearts and limit our vision. It is not healthy, for instance, to say that massive poverty is sad but “normal.” It is not right to say that sexism is unfortunate but “necessary.” It is not human to say that war is miserable but “inevitable”. To weep tears of frustration about them may be to take our first real steps toward honesty, toward mental health, toward a life that is worth living.”
We know Jesus did not just sit around weeping all day long. As with Jesus, so with us. God took that pain, that compassion he felt in the deepest part of his being, and turned it into action. “Now go,” God would tell him, “do something for those you weep for”.
He longs to tell us the same thing if we can get over ourselves. If we can see clearly the suffering all around us that breaks God’s heart, the next hurdle is being accountable. It’s way too easy to shirk our responsibility and absolve ourselves with whatever excuse happens to work at the moment.
Lately, we seem so overwhelmed by the reality of the pain and suffering in our midst that we have either become numb to it or shake our fists in anger. We don’t feel like we have the power to address the massive needs of others, even if we want to. And truth be told, we don’t. So we shrug our shoulders, retreat into our little bubbles, and utter some feeble justification for not “getting involved”.
But we’re definitely not weepers – that’s a weakness we are not willing to put out there. If suffering humanity is lucky, Jesus just blew that myth to shreds for you! Fine. He doesn’t blow things up. But you get it. Right?
And don’t worry, I’m not going to spew some moral edict to try to guilt anyone out of being a self-serving, self-absorbed jerk. This isn’t about taking on a rule-following, righteous, high and mighty stance. That would amount to the lowest common denominator required for entry into “heaven” at some later date. Is that what you want out of life?
Let’s reconsider the gift of weeping that Jesus modeled, now seemingly lost as a Christian response to hatred and suffering. Not only should we weep for the state of our nation and the wrongs done to others, but we also need to realize that Jesus isn’t your personal fixer of all things that suck. That is not his job.
I think Rami Shapiro, in his book, “Holy Rascals”, gives us the most powerful definition of people of true faith that I have ever read: “Holy Rascals have only one aim: to pull the curtain back on parochial religion in order to liberate people from the Great and Terrible Wizards who use religion to frighten them into submission and to manipulate them into doing evil under the banner of good.
We are not anti-religion; we are anti-unhealthy religion: a religion that promotes a world of “us against them” and sanctions the exploitation, oppression, and even murder of “them” in this world and the torture of “them” in the next.We are not anti-belief; we are anti-irrational belief: belief that substitutes ancient fiction for modern science.We are not anti-God; we are anti-mad Gods: Gods who sanction the lust for power that rules those who invented them.”
What saddens me more than anything today is the fact that there is such contention and visceral hatred among those who profess to be “Christians”. But, the louder they are, the less like Jesus they are, which is clearly an oxymoron: “Christians” who hate, “Christians” who seek power and prestige, “Christians” who have no empathy or compassion for others. Jesus was the Suffering Servant, not the King of the elitists. “This is my commandment,” said Jesus, “that you love one another as I have loved you.” That’s it.
We are so far removed from the Jesus known to his disciples. When the Church turned him into “Jesus Christ Superstar,” he got lost in the power struggle for whose faith was the true faith. I would say many Christians probably have no idea that it was the Church struggling for power that created the Jesus so many “worship” today. And there’s the rub, I think. Jesus never told us to worship him. He said, “Follow me”. When Jesus said, “Pick up your cross, kid, and follow me.” What do you think he meant? Pick up your bucket and shovel we’re headed to the beach?
Jesus lived and moved and had his being on the fringes of society. He was a revolutionary, a rebel, an outsider among the powerful leaders of his time. Why? Because he loved without regard for position or status or how it looked to others. He loved “the least of these” with abandon. He touched and healed and served the broken – the outcast. And they responded in love, a love that blurred distinctions between us and them, rich and poor, powerful and weak, saint and sinner.
Does that sound anything like what is preached on street corners and in some churches today? Or the hatred spewed by “White Supremacists”? They have tried to remake Jesus into someone who would be unrecognizable to his followers. It is frightening to watch.
Trillia Newbell, an author and Christian commentator, says, “I want to hear that we’re mourning and weeping, that we are active in our community, that we are going to work to love our neighbor as ourselves, that racism and any kind of hate is evil.”
Seeing the humanity of others should teach us compassion. By allowing ourselves to see Jesus in everyone we encounter, we will grow in love for those we usually disregard or, worse, reject outright. Seeing beyond the degenerate, the depraved, the lost, and the broken takes courage, humility, and trust in a God who shows us the beauty in others — and BONUS — in ourselves.
So, there you have it, you macho guys guzzling beer and feeling a bit queasy watching Jesus weep for those who suffer. How do you respond to that? You first need to offer a resounding “YES” to whatever Jesus has in mind for you. That’s it. Easy enough. Right?
Then fasten your seatbelt, brother; this is when the rubber meets the road because God has a plan for you (Jeremiah 29:11), and this probably won’t be an “I’ll get back to you next week” moment either. There’s much to do, and you’re running out of time because you sat on your duff in that bar so long trying to get out of it. Just pray and stay open to your calling. You’ll know it. Then, brave heart, this is your moment! GO!
(Tenor GIF)
Wait…maybe lose the war paint. You don’t want to scare the crap out of people. They have enough to deal with.
And so it begins – another Lent – when we give up peas and spinach (my husband’s all-time favorite sacrifice) but not our belief that we are such wretched souls that a vindictive God demanded the death of his Son to fix our pathetic selves.
A bait-and-switch tactic if you ask me. Which is kinda genius if it weren’t for the fact that God knows us witless humans all too well. I mean, it’s not like all of humankind did an immediate about-face and never sinned again. If God really devised this plan (which I don’t believe) to correct the stupidity of Adam and Eve, it didn’t work. We have continued to sin and fall short of the glory of God. So, what would have been the point?
Wouldn’t that supposed “plan” of His have rendered Him incapable of running the Universe? Wouldn’t a higher-up call Him into their office on Monday morning to make an accounting for His actions? “I’m sorry to inform you that the Board has decided to replace you. You’re fired. Please turn in your badge and keys now. Also, I would recommend you not use us as a reference on a resume for future employment.”
Many Christians just can’t seem to let go of the belief that God sent His beloved Son to die for our wretchedness. That belief makes no demands on us. It’s a bit like believing “fortified” Froot Loops are healthy because it says so right on the box. No kids – they’re NOT! So spit them out and go get your mother. I want to have a heart-to-heart with her. Then, if the conversation goes as planned, be prepared for a plate full of broccoli tomorrow morning. If not, you can have your crappy Fruit Loops back!
But I digress…
I hate to admit that I was also comfortable in that “God the Mighty Judge” belief for many years. But eventually, it became impossible for me to accept in light of the God I grew to know intimately. How can anyone “know” God? – you ask? “Knowledge” of God’s love will never get you there. It is only when you experience that Love within the very depth of your heart.
Jesus’ Passion should declare the unbridled love of God for us. The cross should upend any denial that He loves us deeply and obsessively. But, as Hebrews 10:31 tells us, “It’s just way too scary to fall into the hands of the living God” (loose translation). That is not a god we want to snuggle up to. We prefer a god like that unpredictable, crazy uncle we keep at a distance. Genesis 3:8 insists that Adam and Eve ran and hid from that God!
Every year, Lent calls us to look at the cross differently. It’s a perpetual life lesson that keeps showing up forty days a year. Every. Single. Year. Until, hopefully, we “get it”! Sadly, many don’t. It took me years.
Will we ever wake up to the beauty of the cross that goes beyond Jesus’ suffering? I believe that can only be possible through the eyes of faith – illuminated by the grace of a tender, loving God.
For that to happen, we must be willing to fix an unwavering gaze on the cross and realize the true meaning of Jesus’ Passion. We must embrace with faith – even if it’s a bit shaky – the reality that the crucifixion on Friday and the empty tomb on Saturday were necessary for the revelation of the profound mystery that is God manifest through Jesus on Easter Sunday.
My prayer is that you and your loved ones have a very blessed Easter!
(Full disclosure – I stole this title from one of my favorite authors of kid’s books, Judith Viorst, titled, “Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day”, because, well, stealing is a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad choice. I hope this confession redeems me.)
We’re not talking about regrettable tattoos. Although, if you trusted a tattoo guy who never got past the third grade– well – you’re a bonehead! Let’s move on.
(originated from the movie, “We’re the Millers”)
We’re talking about serious, life-altering, fast-track-to-hell choices. If you can look me straight in the eye and deny you have ever made any decisions that tipped your halo sideways, I will be the first to recommend you for canonization to sainthood.
Now, know that I am not talking about the likes of the Catholic baby, later confirmed, Hitler, turned adult monster. There can’t be any doubt in most people’s minds that he did not pass GO and did not collect $200 on his way to hell. Right? Or at the very least still resides in Purgatory because his momma was the only one who may have wanted to pray him out of there but she died long before him.
Never mind him. If you think for one minute that Purgatory will be your saving grace. Well, that’s a major attitude fail on your part and God will side-eye you every time you knowingly sin and make no corrections.
It seems the idea of Purgatory came to life in the late 1100s. Thomas Aquinas and the Church quickly latched onto the concept. Aquinas likely had a personal stake in it because he was a no-good, very bad boy in his early days, and the Church quickly realized it was a money-maker for them. Pay to play. Cha-Ching. In my humble opinion, though, Purgatory makes no sense. Let me tell you why I believe that.
Several years ago, I went through a year-long training to work with hospice patients. The most profound learning for me came from reading books written by nurses and doctors who worked for years with hospice patients. First off, they believed, as I do, that anyone who sits with someone taking their last breaths should remove their sandals because they are standing on holy ground.
During the time I sat with dying patients I only witnessed two deaths. Both experiences were intense for me, and I came away with a much different belief about the idea of “cleansing” than what I was taught. I watched the process evolve to the final stage when they were given morphine. At that point, they seemed incapable of any type of movement or communication, let alone a deathbed confession.
BTW, deathbed confessions raise all sorts of anger among the snobby self-righteous. Being certain that a sinner is destined for hell secretly makes the rest of us happy, knowing they didn’t get to live their whole life being a total ass and then receive an eleventh–hour Get-Out-Of-Jail-Free card. NOT FAIR!
Anyway, though I had not known anything about those two people prior to their deaths it was clear that something was happening within them that I was not privy to. There was restlessness – not a sense of peace – not until the end. In both of those situations, I had an opportunity to meet briefly with a family member. In each case, they shared the struggles their loved one had during their life.
Do these encounters prove anything? No. But, I came to believe, as I still do, that if cleansing is an actual thing, it probably happens in those moments just before we die. Who knows? As for me, I decided long ago to hedge my bets and make course corrections in the moment I know I did or said something mean or unkind to someone. And if you’re still waiting for an apology from 1985, call me and we’ll meet for lunch while I beg forgiveness.
When God says, “I love you, and there’s nothing you can do about it,” He means it. But that doesn’t mean He won’t roll His eyes or admonish us when we screw up. It means we can go to Him, trusting that He will forgive and forget our stupidity. Those we have hurt may not be so gracious, but that doesn’t change anything. I don’t know about you, but I really don’t want my indiscretions to cause God to do a head smack and question the wisdom of creating a doofus like me and then take some big ole God-sized eraser to my sorry self. Even if, for a split second, He thought about it. I mean, do I dare bring up the antics of Moses to take the pressure off myself? Sure. Why not?
I think Moses got a raw deal. If it was me, I would have bid those cranky Israelites adieu early on, “I’m done here. You guys are on your own. Good luck!” Remember, Moses tried to worm his way out of God’s calling to lead them (Exodus 3:1-12:42). Maybe he later agreed because of a bigger-than-life ego. “When I get these guys to the Promised Land they will surely erect a statue of me and bow to me profusely! It will be epic!”
But, toward the end of those forty long years, he totally lost it. It wasn’t what he expected, and what with all the whining and complaining about everything and blaming it all on him, “No food – your fault! No water – you’re fault!” Their anger slammed up against his vision of them worshipping at his shrine. So, what does he do? What any self-righteous, self-serving guy would do. He begged God to “DO SOMETHING! I can’t deal with them anymore!” So God sent him back to wave a stick around in front of a rock, and then He (God – not Moses – a small detail Moses left out) would make water pour out from it.
Anywho, Moses thought that was a terrible idea. So, he devised a better plan when he remembered seeing this witch doctor work some magic on a Netflix special back in Egypt. Back when they had the Internet and modern conveniences and stuff!
Everyone thought he was to blame for all their problems. Fine. He would show them how powerful and mighty he was. The poor guy probably still had abandonment issues from that whole baby-in-the-basket-in-the-river incident, so this seemed like a great plan to bolster his sense of self. Surely, they would bow down and worship him then.
So instead of waving the stick around in the air, he beat the crap out of the rock with it, and voila water poured out! The people went crazy! Yeah, it was all fun and games until God stepped in.
Personally, I think Moses possessed some HUGE nerve in his life. In a temporary lapse of judgment, he did some awful things, like, I don’t know, defying God and then getting all up in His business. And, lest we forget, in the end, his antics kept him from joining the Israelites in the Promised Land. That ship was sailing without him. (BTW, I don’t recommend you use this material in a Sunday School class. It’s all made up. You’ve been warned.)
So, now, put on your big boy/big girl pants, folks, and gird your loins cause it’s up to you how the rest of your life will play out and how your journey will end. I have had regrets in my life and will probably have more because that’s the foolish me who can’t seem to learn the first, second, or zillionth time! But God still forgives a zillion + one times, if that’s what it takes.
I would just recommend that you don’t stand before Him with unfinished business and a shit-pile of complaints from those you didn’t treat right along the way. Because, again, no one knows what that encounter will be like, and who wants to be handed a fireproof robe and a one-way ticket south, especially if your momma isn’t around to pray for you, you little schmuck? So clean up your mess and make better choices from now on! GEEEZO!
Yep, there is such a thing! Okay, I could have made it up, but just work with me here.
It has been ten years since I ran my last half-marathon, and I have decided it’s time to dust off my running shoes and get back in the game. God help me. This will probably kill me!
I began running thirty years ago when a friend dragged me to a high school track near us. We planned to run the St. Patrick’s Day 5K in St. Louis. It was three miles. It seemed reasonable since I had never run a day in my life. I could easily drive three miles without getting winded. So, why not?!
The first morning, we ran once around the track – a quarter mile. OMG, I thought I would die! But I didn’t. So, I went back for more, again and again, until it got easier, and I decided I could do it. Not only that, but I was beginning to love it and the challenge that came with each turn around the track. Initially, my ambitions didn’t go beyond the 5K and free beer at the end!
It wasn’t long before I was hooked as I grew to love the challenge of discovering my ability to go beyond anything I had imagined. Let’s see whatcha got, Linda! Though I have run several half-marathons over the years since then, it has always been that initial 5K that developed my theology of running.
I started off slowly, but pushing myself to run faster became a passion for me, especially when we moved to a rural area where I would run country roads at 5:00 in the morning. I was often told I was getting too old to run. That I should slow down because it wasn’t good for my joints (jealous couch potatoes, every last one of them!). I had no desire to slow down. Every time I decided to walk instead of run, it didn’t last long. It wasn’t the same. I didn’t feel the joy and fulfillment I experienced when I ran.
I discovered that I am most fully alive when I am running, especially in nature. I enjoyed it even more when we moved further into the country. I could run right out my front door and be in the woods. It was so peaceful and serene. In the early morning, the sunrise was breathtaking.
There was something else I noticed: God was there. My connection with God was most vibrant in those moments, and my prayers seemed most profound. That never happened for me sitting in a pew in church (I don’t need forgiveness for that, Father. I don’t think that’s a sin.)
St. Irenaeus said, “The glory of God is man fully alive.” Being fully alive is the quintessential manifestation of Divine Love. That magical, mysterious Love is most revealed to me in the moments when I am in the midst of His creation.
One of the beauties of running is its simplicity. You only need a good pair of shoes. Actually, shoes aren’t even necessary, as Ethiopian Abebe Bikila proved. He set a world record in the Rome Olympics barefoot!
There is a stark difference between the simple needs I have as a runner and the “perceived needs” of those in many sports. How does that relate to what we understand as “church”? Is church the magnificent cathedrals built centuries ago? Is it mega-churches today that entertain like a new rendition of Jesus Christ Super Star?! Not according to Jesus. The “ideal” church he modeled was about action: humble service, love, unity, hope, and mission – all easily accomplished barefoot – or, at the most, wearing sandals.
When training for a race, specific practices can be incorporated. One such practice is called “fartlek”. It’s a Swedish word for “speed play,” it’s simply short bursts of acceleration at various times during a run. Here again, fartleking could have a spiritual meaning. Well, it could! Okay, the name might have to be changed to something a bit less like a bodily function, but it could work nicely when considering the process of growing spiritually, and, yes, it is a process.
I believe there is a misunderstanding for so many of us about how important it is to “train” if we are to grow in faith, which may be what discourages new Christians. I don’t believe faith just “happens” with a dunk in a bucket of water, even if there is some sort of “ritual” to prepare new converts for acceptance into a particular faith. There’s just more to it than that. It’s not an event; it’s a life-long journey. What about babies that are baptized in some faiths? Does that baby jump right out of the Priest’s arms and start serving in a soup kitchen? No.
You start out testing the waters with things that aren’t too risky, like smiling instead of flipping someone off in traffic. Then, maybe you graduate to a bumper sticker…or two…or six. Don’t do that. That’s not right.
Anyway, we are taught that in baptism, we are to put on Christ. But what does that really mean? We are called to live and move and have our being as followers of Christ, who teaches self-giving love by his example. And how does that happen? We learn from him to be less self-centered and more other-centered. For most of us, none of that growth happens at the moment of our baptism. Instead, we will struggle in life, have setbacks, and often lose our way. We have fits and starts trying to believe we indeed are God’s beloved and our life has a purpose.
As we journey through life, hopefully, we will grow in the fullness of that baptismal call to be an instrument of God’s love for the good of our world. This realization can indeed be likened to a “runner’s high”! When we finally become conscious of who and whose we are, we respond through works of love, justice, forgiveness, and mercy. Call it a “Jesus high”! You just can’t get enough.
Here is where I need to tell on myself and share a couple of final important AHA moments in my running and faith journey. The first experience goes back to the beginning when my friend and I started training for that 5K. When we got to the day of the race, we both felt unprepared, especially since, just a few days before, her husband, an avid runner, told us that the race’s route was very hilly! Wait…what? Hilly?! As in mountainous hilly? As in, crap, we didn’t train on hills…hilly?! But, after that initial shock, we decided to do it anyway, even if we had to walk – or crawl – or call an Uber.
But we were going and getting that beer at the end. Period. So, off we went. When we got to the start line, we immediately saw the “hill” staring down at us, laughing hysterically! Undeterred, we went for it. It was hard, but we both endured and walked when we had to.
AND THEN, we turned a corner and saw the finish line! I got so excited that I took off running with all I had in me (it was downhill this time, which helped). As I reached the end, gasping for air, my friend caught up with me. She was visibly upset, “Why did you take off like that? We spent all this time training together and were supposed to finish together! Why did you do that?” I felt so bad for leaving her behind. I was only thinking of myself, and that was just wrong. Sadly, I suppose I believed that everything revolved around me.
NO. IT. DOESN’T. DUMBASS.
Our faith journey is also not meant to be about us alone. If we are merely growing in a personal faith that does not embrace others on their journey, if we are so self-centered that we sprint toward life’s finish line, knocking others aside, I’m pretty sure God will be waiting with those chilling words, “You came alone? Where’s your friend?”
Okay, that experience wasn’t funny, but this one is. A few years ago, another friend and I signed up for a 10K. She wasn’t concerned about training because she planned to walk. I think she just wanted to be sure I survived because, well, by then, I was old. So, off we went, agreeing to meet at…that’s right…the beer truck at the end.
There were a lot of turns, so volunteers stood at designated intersections to point the way. At one intersection, there was no one there. I was confused and had to decide which way to go. So I turned right and kept running. After a mile on that road with no one in sight, I realized I had gone the wrong way. So, I turned around and ran another mile back to where I should have been. I was tired but knew the end was near. And there, around the last corner, I saw it! The finish line! WOOT WOOT…
Suddenly, I realized the race was over, and they were deflating the blow-up finish line! I panicked and ran faster, but I was too late. By then, most everyone had left. No one was cheering. No one telling me I was almost there and to not poop myself. They tell you that. It’s not funny. Neither is the lie that “You’re almost done” when you’re not. It’s not right.
Anyway, I was devastated, and my friend was in a panic! When I finally did see someone carrying some medals, I insisted I deserved a first-place medal for being the only person who ran eight miles instead of six! So, I reasoned I came in first in the unofficial eight-mile race. That logic didn’t fly. I was handed a “Yep, you did finish even though you screwed up” medal. FINE. WHATEVER. “Where’s the free beer?”
There were still a few drops of beer left for my friend and me to cheer each other. I did survive, so it wasn’t all in vain. And the lesson? On this journey of faith, we will also make wrong turns, but God is always at the finish line with a cold beer (don’t tell me there ain’t no beer in heaven!) and a “well done, my good and faithful servant” cheer! But, no medal.
You’ll have to decide for yourself if there’s beer at the finish line of life or if that’s really why you want to run that race – to get some reward. As for me, I fully trust that a life of faith is all about the journey, not the finish line. That will take care of itself.
You know the question – we all do. It’s the answer that we fear, that stymies us, that we avoid like a stalker on our social media accounts.
Jesus’ disciples were challenged by ”the” question, up close and personal, but skipped blindly past it, believing they belonged to an exclusive “Jesus Club” that exempted them from such a challenge. They would post selfies with Jesus and then boast to their friends on Facebook.
(AI generated)
They couldn’t wait for their ten-year high school reunion so they could counter the negative comments in their senior yearbook, “most likely to end up in jail” or “most likely to become a TV repairman living in their mother’s basement.” I think that one was about James and John because their mother boldly approached Jesus to ask him to get them both out of her hair! (Mark 10:35-45)
I imagine Jesus had to constantly pose that all-important question to them just to pull them back to reality, “Come on, guys, you don’t get a pass on this. AGAIN…”Who Am I?”
It wasn’t just the disciples; every one of us has been challenged by that question that words cannot answer, but rather, by the very act of our day-to-day living. Still, we rarely get it right.
Recall that Jesus’ brothers (yes, he had some, and sisters too, get over it) often mocked and ridiculed him in front of others, “For even his own brothers did not believe in him.” (John 7:2-9) A bit of sibling rivalry? Possibly. Not surprising as he was the only one who never disobeyed or sinned. His brothers had to be jealous of that and how his admiring followers flocked to him wherever he went.
John Dominic Crossan gives us some fascinating insight into the thinking of the day,“…if you asked anyone in the Mediterranean world at the time of Jesus, “Who’s the Son of God, the Lord, the redeemer, the savior of the world?” everyone would’ve known immediately who you were talking about, and it sure wouldn’t have been Jesus.—it would have been Caesar Augustus.”
That’s right, and Caesar loved it. He was a master of propaganda and deceit and knew how to manipulate everyone, from the powerful to the lowliest pheasant. Because he was so skilled at deception, everyone loved him even though he was a dictator. Go figure.
Perhaps this understanding of the belief that Caesar Augustus was the Son of God made him a hard act for Jesus to follow. Who knows. Could Jesus have questioned his life’s purpose? There may be a hint of that here – Luke 22:42. We are so surprised when we read that he asked God to take away the suffering he knew he was about to experience.
And then, (I don’t pretend to know – I wasn’t there. So, don’t send me hate mail!) I’m imagining, almost as an AHA moment, after God revealed to him that this was still his purpose, people would soon discover who Jesus was.
We humans can get lost when we go down that rabbit hole of self-doubt. So many of us know the feeling of being “less than.” Right? It’s easy for us to buy into the lies that we are not good enough.
Michael Beckwith tells us, “There is a life occurrence or a sequence of events unique to each of us that breaks through our self-imposed limitations, our egoic self-will, beckoning the Authentic Self to come forward and announce itself to us….the wisdom in this grace knows exactly what conditions will cause us to exclaim, ‘Enough is enough. I give my consent to my next level of growth.’”
Stay with me here.
The title of my blog, “Passion, Purpose, and Poopyheads,” defines the struggles I have had trying to accept that I was gifted with passion and purpose –as we all are. The problem has always been the “poopyheads” that keep setting up roadblocks for me to stumble over.
What would our lives look like if we dared to ask God the “who do you say I am” question? Deep down, we yearn for the answer. It’s our greatest spiritual longing. “Who am I to you, Lord?” But His response can be drowned out by the voices of those who run roughshod over our hearts and muddy the pure waters of God’s immovable, unchangeable, immense love for us. He calls each of us His beloved, but we don’t believe it. Instead, we believe the lies of those who are just as broken as we are.
Picture this: you go to a new doctor and are ushered into the nurse’s station as she takes all your vital signs and then shoves you up on a scale. All the while, you cannot help but notice that she is obviously struggling with her own health issues.
Then, you sit for an eternity waiting for the doctor, who finally walks into the room, reeking of cigarette smoke and finishing up the last bite of a McDonald’s Big Mac – his lunch (gag me!). Will you trust anything he advises to keep you healthy when he clearly doesn’t follow that advice himself? Do you stay or run like hell? You decide for yourself, but I’m already in my car!
Now, let’s put that scenario into the context of this discussion of just who it is that Jesus says we are. Even though he repeatedly tells us, we choose to give full authority to the thoughts of others who are – well – screwed up. Mostly. Like us. Who are you going to trust?
GEEEEZZZZZ PEOPLE!
But, alas, it’s a new year.
I’m going to speak for myself now. You’re welcome to tag along….
Let’s call it:
An ode to new beginnings that tells us endings are never final if you’re still breathing.
Last year was, hands down, one of my worst years ever, with Covid relegated to last place on my list of profoundly crappy moments. After losing my husband, I had to face the truth of a heart condition that I chose to ignore for years until it reared up and took a huge bite out of my…denial.
Both these profound life events were instrumental in creating my new reality: at my age, I am starting over in an uncertain and unfamiliar place. God has promised never to leave us, but he does not lay out our lives like a scavenger hunt. Unfortunately, that’s what we expect from Him, and then we get tripped up every time we encounter any obstacles.
For most of my seventy-three years, I have not allowed the Creator of my destiny to guide me. Others would constantly butt in unsolicited and make huge messes in my life, like the bratty kid who knocks down all your legos, so you have to start over!
So now, if I live as though I really believe that God is the only one I need to listen to and trust, then I will have no one else to blame if I fail to follow the path He has laid out for me. And there it is…TADA! It’s less scary and less demanding to keep doing what I have always done than to expose myself to what God may be asking of me.
If I answer that question, “Who do you say I am?” honestly, that would naturally require me to change and release my grip on mediocrity because God doesn’t do mediocre. And how do I deal with that when I have been led to believe all my life that it’s the best I have to offer in a world that couldn’t care less? So, with that mindset, why would I turn that question around and ask it of God? “Who do you say I am?” And then risk what that answer would demand of me?
How often have I thought God abandoned me because, in hindsight, a path He pointed me to seemed like a dead-end? Only to discover it offered a critical lesson I needed to learn before moving on.
If I could just become more self-aware and present to God as I walk this uncertain path, whether I obtain clarity in the process or not, much of my angst and fear will surely turn into trust and a peace that surpasses all understanding (Philippians 4:7). I’m working on that.
I have no idea what’s around the next corner for me, and frankly, I don’t need to know. I only know this: God is always with me. He is by my side. He is my biggest cheerleader. He forgives my stupidity and delights in giving me second chances. Yeah me!
At the end of the day, He will welcome me home, where, hopefully, I will hear those immortal words, “Pretty well done, Linda. Not bad for a messy human.”
In the Book of Esther (I LOVE that girl!), Mordecai tells her she must go to the King to save her people, which was a life-threatening proposition for her. He asks her to consider that this may be God’s calling, “Yet who knows whether you have come to the kingdom for such a time as this?” And her reply? You gotta love this! “And so I will go to the king, which is against the law, and if I perish, I perish!”
So often, God calls, and we’re afraid to answer. If we choose to ignore Him, He may eventually go away, but the loss will be ours, not His, because He will find someone else. Yes, a call from God probably is risky. He’s the risk expert. Remember, He took the ultimate chance by giving us free will to tell Him “No.”
God has provided examples of many Risk-takers to lead the way. Not the least of which was Jesus. Of course, if you think Jesus is too difficult to emulate, you could start with any of the misfits he hand-picked to follow in his footsteps.
So is saying “Yes” to God worth the risk? The first thing that comes to mind for me takes me back to January 2005. My husband and I were able to go to Belfast, Northern Ireland, to spend a year working for Habitat for Humanity. Life in Belfast was full of blessings, many of which were realized only reluctantly from lessons learned (the story of my life, really).
We lived close enough to the City Center to walk there on occasion. One morning, I walked to the post office to mail some letters before going to work. My time was limited, so I was in a hurry. By then, the route was so familiar that I barely noticed the things that had taken my breath away just a few months earlier: The iron gates dividing the Protestants from the Catholics and the murals telling of each side’s pain and suffering during the “Troubles.” They no longer seemed quite so shocking.
On this day, God taught me a most profound lesson on the streets of Belfast. I was about to meet Bernie, my alcoholic teacher. On my mission to tick off another task before work, I noticed a woman lying on the sidewalk. People passing her seemed to be oblivious to her. I even saw some crossing to the other side of the street. And here’s me as I walk past her, “I wonder if she’s alive.” But did I stop? No. And then came that “Holy nudge” I knew so well.
Dang it! Not now. “Lord, don’t you have other heathens to reckon with?” I must have walked another five minutes before God got the best of me. I guess I thought I could out-pace Him. I kept hearing, “Go back”. That’s all. Nothing about what I was supposed to do once I got there. No. That would have been too easy.
Fine. So, back I went.
As I sat down on the cold sidewalk beside her, I nudged her, but she didn’t move. Oh my God, I got a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach. What if she was dead?! What if I stepped over a dead woman without a thought of her humanity?
I nudged her again. She slowly opened her eyes. I could tell she was intoxicated. “Come on, Love. Sit up.” (that’s what they say in Ireland. They call everyone “Love” even if they don’t know them).
She looked at me and angrily responded, “Leave me alone!”
“No, come on, you can’t stay here. It isn’t safe. Sit up.”
She managed to sit up and stare at me.
“What’s your name?”
“Bernie”
“Do you have a home, Bernie?”
“No”
Now I’m wondering what I’m going to do with her. Being unfamiliar with Belfast, I didn’t know where to take her. “Are you hungry? We’ll go get something to eat.”
“No. You got a fag?”
“No, sorry, I don’t smoke (are you ready for this?). It’s bad for your health.” That caused both of us to laugh. It was such a ridiculous response.
Then she looked me straight in the eye and said, “Look at me! No one wants me. It’s no use. It’s no use. Just leave me alone!”
“No, Bernie, that’s not true. I am looking at you, and what I see is beautiful. Now, come on, let’s get you someplace safe.” Then, as I struggled to help her up, I prayed, “A little help here, Lord!”
Just then (I’m not kidding), a van pulled up, and a young man emerged. Bernie recognized him, “Here comes the welcome wagon.” We both laughed again. The man, calling her by name, very gently and lovingly got her into the van and climbed into the driver’s seat. Wait! He was interrupting my “Good Samaritan” moment! Not sure what to do, I quickly wrote down my phone number, “Please, would you give her my number if she wants to contact me?” He assured me he would and drove away. After they left, I resumed my walk to the post office, at a slower pace, though, and still a bit stunned.
“Lord, what just happened? You stopped me dead in my tracks and sent me back to help her. Now I’m certain I’ll never see her again. What was the purpose of all of this?”
No answer. I sensed He would let me struggle with that one for a while. Except He did fire a Matthew 25:41-43 warning shot at me! As I continued to walk silently, I could feel God speaking to my heart, “Linda, next time, don’t pass Me by.”
A few weeks later, I broached the subject with God again, “Come on, Lord! You’re killin’ me. I know you aren’t finished with this lesson.”
And then came my answer, “Oh, Linda, you poor thing! I didn’t send you to save her; I sent her to save you – from your indifference.” (Ouch! I should have left well enough alone!)
Soon my next risky adventure came along. I was walking down Falls Road behind a woman and a boy about four-years-old. It didn’t seem to concern her that I was right behind them when she suddenly reached down and smacked him on the face. I have no idea why. He said something, and she hit him again. Amazingly (or not so amazingly, I suppose), he clearly was not surprised by the abuse. Then, they crossed the street, and I continued toward home, just a block away. I didn’t get there, though, because I knew instantly that voice I had heard so clearly would come again. But I got a jump on it this time, “I know, go back!” I crossed the street and headed toward the woman, unsure how she would respond to the intrusion. What would stop her from striking at me if she hit her own child?
“I don’t like this, Lord. Please help me out! What do you want me to say?” It felt very awkward, but as I approached her, I simply asked, “Do you need help? Do you want someone to talk to?” She gave me the stink-eye and brushed past me, and the little boy stuck out his tongue at me. Cute. I assumed they lived close by. Maybe I would see her again. Perhaps she would knock on my door one day. But that never happened.
After our year in Belfast, we returned home to settle back into our former lives and business as usual. I found a beautiful trail nearby to begin running again. I loved the beauty and serenity there. At times, I encountered a few cyclists along the way and occasionally a scary dog, but I was usually alone.
One day, I noticed someone coming toward me. He was walking alongside a bicycle with a chain of baby bike trailers behind it. It’s funny how you can suddenly become acutely aware of your surroundings. We were approaching each other in a secluded area of the trail. Trees blocked the view of the road, and no one else was nearby. I ran a little faster and offered a “Good morning” as I passed. I’m sorry to say that, as we approached each other, I did not feel less threatened because I trusted God – I felt less threatened because I was confident I could outrun him –okay, and someone else was approaching on a bike.
As the cyclist and I passed each other, we both said “Hello”- but he did something I did not, he stopped to talk to the man; the man who is our brother, the man I should love and respect because of his dignity as a child of God – no different than me. I was feeling pretty crappy right then. So, I went back, and we spoke for an awkward moment.
Then, my emotions kicked in – or God thumped me (whatever). I said goodbye and ran quickly to my car, drove the three miles home in a cloud of dust, and woke my husband to enlist him to help me pack up a cooler and some money to take to my soon-to-be new friend. We found him by the river – fishing. He was amiable and enjoyed telling us about his travels, and he allowed my husband to take a picture of us:
Here’s what makes me so sad. Look closely at this picture. He didn’t want me to touch him. I suppose because he hadn’t had a bath in a while. Yeah, I knew that, but after running for an hour, I was pretty smelly myself! There we were, two smelly, beloved children (and one worm) of one AWESOME God!
From these three very brief incidents, I learned volumes about risking and reaching out to others: that the outcome may not be ours to know. But oh, the unexpected blessings we receive from it.
These were momentary encounters with hurting people that I fancied myself saving. Truth be told, they actually saved me. We weren’t meant to have ongoing relationships that would last a lifetime. None of them would call me years later to tell me they named their first-born child after me or invite me to their college graduation.
God was working quietly and without fanfare on my hardened heart, which He somehow knew was not beyond reach. It would just take time.
There are signs all around us of man’s inhumanity to man. Violence against our brothers and sisters never seems to abate. We strip our fellow human beings of their dignity when they are suffering, and we refuse to involve ourselves in their lives. How easy it is to ignore the misery of others! But there’s no going back when God teaches us to “see” with our hearts.
Honestly, I’m not sure I will ever stop gauging my compassion by my sense of safety. But, I pray for the grace to let go of my fears so that I can reach out freely – out of love instead of guilt – like Sister Karen Klimczak.
Many would say that Sister Karen Klimczak should have paid closer attention to the dangers surrounding her. For years, she ran a transitional housing program for men being released from correctional facilities in Buffalo, New York. Her selfless, heroic work ended with her murder on Good Friday of 2006 at the hands of one of the very people she had cared for. Ironically, Sister Klimczak, like Jesus, believed that “people will die if we don’t reach out.”
Fifteen years before her murder, Sister Klimczak dreamed (or had a premonition) that she would die violently. Just before Holy Week of 1991. In her personal journal, she wrote the following words to the person who would take her life:
“Dear Brother, I don’t know what the circumstances are that will lead you to hurt me or destroy my physical body. No, I don’t want it to happen. I would much rather enjoy the beauties of this earth, experience the laughter, the fears and the tears of those I love so deeply! Now my life has changed and you, my brother, were the instrument of that change. I forgive you for what you have done and I will always watch over you, help you in whatever way I can. Continue living always mindful of His Presence, His Love and His Joy as sources of life itself – then my life will have been worth being changed through you.“
Sister Klimczak’s advanced warning that she would meet a violent death didn’t stop her from championing the world’s outcasts. Instead, she continued doing what she knew she’d been called to do for as long as she could.
“You leave your fingerprints on everything. We need to be people who leave imprints of peace wherever we go in our world.” Sister Klimczak
Fear does not protect – it limits – it limits the blessings and grace God longs to pour out on us and those we reach out to in His name.
Richard Rohr, in his book Job and the Mystery of Suffering, explains risk beautifully:
“There are two things that draw us outside ourselves: pain…and…beauty. Those – pain and beauty – constitute the two faces of God. Whenever we see true pain, most of us are drawn out of our own preoccupations and what to take away the pain. I think we are rushing not just toward the hurt child, we are rushing toward God. That’s why Francis could kiss the leper. That’s why so many saints wanted to get near suffering – because, as they said again and again, they met Christ there. It saved them from their smaller and untrue self.“
Jesus’ Matthew 25 challenge is always right in our midst: The poor, the homeless, the lonely neighbor, the crotchety checker at the grocery store, and the elderly who are left to die alone in nursing homes. If only we would embrace the vulnerability that allows us to dare bravely for the sake of others, what a different world we would create.
Did I tell you about Justin (not his real name), the kid who taught me a lesson in love? Okay, well, if so, I’m gonna tell it again because it’s freakin’ awesome!
About twenty years ago, I worked for Youth in Need, a wonderful organization that helps teens, usually wobbling vicariously between their broken world and the road to juvenile detention. This was often the last best hope for them.
I was basically a house mom and often worked the night shift in the house they lived in. It was a time in my life when I was also a broken mess, not long before my husband and I separated for a year (another God story). I’m not sure how I ended up there, thinking I had anything to offer them. It would be much later before I could see God’s hand in it.
The police often brought the kids to us. Sometimes, they were runaways or castaways by their parents or guardians. Justin came to us, a little guy for a twelve-year-old. With a huge chip on his shoulder. He was always angry and struck out at anyone who looked at him wrong.
Easter Sunday was my day off, but I decided to buy a ham and ask some of my neighbors to make some covered dishes. How nice of me! Look out, Saint Mother Teresa Linda’s vying for your spot in heaven! I can see the headlines now:
LINDA RUSSELL CANNONIZED BY POPE FRANCIS: THE PARTON SAINT OF MISFITS…
But, I digress…
The evening went unusually well. That is until we discovered that one of the Easter baskets went missing. Later, I found it under Justin’s bed. When I called him out on it he went ballistic! He started pounding on the walls and yelling obscenities. He followed me when I headed down the steps to contact our on-call therapist. Still yelling!
And then he spit on me. Okay, now I was mad! I began thinking of how very generous I was to come in on my day off. I muttered under my breath, “Kid, you’re outta here!” and I meant it. I was determined to send him away and had the power to do it. When I shut the office door and picked up the phone, I knew he was listening.
I explained to the therapist what had happened. She asked me if I felt threatened. If I would have said yes, the police would have been called. But then, at that moment, God grabbed my heart. This was Easter Sunday! On Good Friday, Jesus was spat on, mocked, and crucified. Justin was just a child, a hurting, suffering child. I assured the therapist that I did not feel threatened and would handle it.
Justin fell into me when I opened the door – still angry, “YOU GONNA CALL THE POLICE?! GO AHEAD, CALL THE POLICE. I DON’T CARE. CALL MY DAD, I DON’T CARE!” I calmly (which surprised me) said to him, “No, Justin, I’m not calling anyone. Just go upstairs, get your shower, and go to bed. Oh, and if you need a hug, I have one for you.” That offer surprised both of us, but his response didn’t. He uttered, “Yeah, right!” just before he knocked the chair against the wall and stormed out of the room.
Yeah right. What was I thinking? And now I had to fill out an incident report! Oh, joy. “I’m taking my ham back! You hear me, buddy???”
Twenty minutes later, the report finished, I headed upstairs just in time to encounter Justin coming out of the bathroom. There was something different about him when he looked at me. He was calmer and then asked something that, to this day, I still get teary-eyed thinking about it. “Can I have that hug now?” I can’t even describe the emotions that filled my heart as I hugged that little boy. I have no idea if he had ever been hugged before or since then. I hope that’s not the case, but I never saw him after he left.
Considering that for just one moment, I had the power to influence a little boy’s life – for good or bad – it’s mind-blowing! I know this for sure, if I would have followed through and had him sent away, that would have certainly been my own narcissistic doing. But, the ultimate outcome of that incident was God’s doing and took place even amid my own brokenness (a significant fact).
It wasn’t by my own strength or even care for Justin. I was not some amazing spiritual giant responding as would have been expected of the likes of Saint Mother Teresa, But, and this is huge, I was able to hear Jesus speak into the depth of my otherwise hardened heart, which in turn allowed him to speak love into the soul of another broken heart. He used me in all my messiness. Unbelievable.
When I look back on my life, it is astounding to me to consider what God can accomplish when he has so little to work with. If such incredible acts of love, mercy, and healing can occur even when we are so resistant to him, I have to wonder what America would be like today if more Christians would stop resisting God’s call. It’s breathtaking to consider the possibilities.
Sadly, so many who confess to being Christian are believers in name only – lukewarm God calls it. Revelations 3:16-17: “I know you inside and out, and find little to my liking. You’re not cold or hot—it’s far better to be either cold or hot! You’re stale. You’re stagnant. You make me want to vomit. You brag, ‘I’m rich, I’ve got it made, I need nothing from anyone, oblivious that, in fact, you’re a pitiful, blind beggar, threadbare and homeless.” (The Message)
How much do we hate the thought of being that person before God? – Because we don’t act like it. I don’t know if it’s as much a matter of indifference as fear.
What ARE we so afraid of? Trusting? Possibly.
Are we afraid of what God will require of us if we come out of hiding? Perhaps.
Fear of the unknown? Absolutely.
Let’s go back a ways. Many people in the Old and New Testament were afraid to trust God, fearful of the unknown, “You want me to do what?” They came up with some pretty lame excuses, considering they were arguing with God Himself.
Coming out of our comfort zones and believing we have gifts to be used for God’s kingdom is just too hard to get our heads around. But it’s true. When I had the opportunity to share my story, I heard so many people tell me they couldn’t imagine God working in their lives like that. I have to remind them of the heathen I was before God caught my attention. And when that did happen, it wasn’t a sudden thrust into a world I knew nothing about…
God isn’t in the business of scaring us to death to get His point across. He knows each one of us intimately. He knows how to gently encourage our trust in Him. Just little moments of grace, then more to follow, like a child learning to crawl, then holding onto something sturdy to stand before he could trust enough to walk…and then run.
Eventually, I discovered, as I hope you will, that God gives us everything we need to be all He created and called us to be, that my past did not define my future, and that the lies I lived were Satan’s stronghold on me – not my truth.
When we doubt ourselves, Satan gets all giddy inside. When we question God’s call to us, the kingdom work He has planned for us to do never gets done. And Satan cheers. Sure, He could go find someone else, but the number of us who are never willing to step out of our comfort zones leaves Him with limited resources.
And Satan cheers again.
Our strength is limited, but we don’t need to rely on our own strength because God’s boundless, inexhaustible, immeasurable grace is just a prayer away. Not convinced? Pick one:
The Lord will give strength to His people and bless his people with peace. Psalm 29:11
Quietness and confidence shall be my strength. Isaiah 30:15
I am strong in the Lord and in the power of His might. Ephesians 6:10
I have put on the complete armor of God. Ephesians 6:11
God gives power to the weak. And to those who have no might, He increases strength. Isaiah 40:29
Enough? Yeah, it seems God knew we needed lots of convincing. Has it worked? Not according to Ed Stetzer in his article titled, Too Many So-Called Christians Merely Giving Lip Service to Jesus. Below is an excerpt. If you would like to read the entire article, you can find it here.
“I suspect many churches have forgotten their primary calling: to make disciples. Instead, we believe drawing a crowd of people on Sundays is enough. We invite people to come to church or to be good people—but not to follow Jesus.
Sociologists like Christian Smith say many Americans follow something called “moralistic therapeutic deism,” a belief in God that’s mainly focused on being a good person and having a positive self-image.
That kind of religion feels good. But it doesn’t motivate people to act on their faith in areas where it costs them.”
Mediocre. Is that what you’re striving for? Is that what gets you up every morning and fills you with excitement about what life has in store for you? Are you content to sleepwalk through this life, waiting for the next (whatever that means)? Have you thought about what you’re missing when you sleepwalk through life? That’s a shame because God could put those gifts He gave you to good use. Imagine Him watching you just sitting on them…
Oh, okay, maybe you’re waiting until you get your life straightened out before you think God can use you. After all, you may reason that you’re just too broken yourself. There’s no way you could help anyone else if you can’t even help yourself. That’s true if in fact, it’s you that you’re relying on the fix yourself. It’ll never happen! Sorry. I can’t imagine you haven’t heard the expression: God doesn’t call the equipped; he equips the called. Catchy huh?
Come on. Wake up!
There’s kingdom work to be done. God’s waiting…
Here’s some food for thought: Do you realize God depends on you? That’s not a typo.
Say it to yourself, “God is dependent on ME!
“Linda, you’re crazy!”
Really? Then what does this quote by St. Irenaeus mean? “The glory of God is man fully alive.” Let that sink in a moment. You see, God needs us. It’s true. Has anyone ever told you that before?
So, you see, this broken world needs you! God needs you! Now more than ever.
Poor Moses had a lot to deal with. God sent him to lead the Israelites into the wilderness. When they got hungry, they complained to Moses. When there was no water, they complained to Moses. So, God opened the spigot, and they drank but forgot to thank him. He dropped manna in their laps, but they wanted steak and potatoes cause they weren’t creative enough to make pancakes and douse them with syrup!
Yet still, God loved their sorry selves. He desired a covenant and intimacy with them. It would be extraordinary! But the Israelites were having nothing to do with it. It was way too scary! Intimacy? No way! So they stubbornly settled at the foot of the mountain and were going no further.
Then, the Lord called Moses up the mountain….and….
(19:3) The Lord instructs him, “Tell those guys I’m going to do awesome things for them: Make them all holy and priestly.”
DOWN HE GOES
(19:8) Moses repeats what the Lord told him, and they jump all over it! “We will do everything the Lord has said.”
UP HE GOES
(19:11-12) Moses told the Lord how excited they were! The Lord told Moses, “I’m going down there in a bunch of clouds to hang with you so they can see how cool I think you are. But if they try to approach me for selfies, I’ll kill the lot of them! Got it?”
DOWN HE GOES
(19:14-19) Moses told them to clean up and not have sex (okay?!). Then everything explodes! Thunder, lightning, thick clouds, and a really loud, ear-drum-bursting trumpet blast for good measure. Even the mountain trembled. People were screaming and crying and scattering all over the place! It probably wasn’t the reaction God anticipated. So, he called Moses back.
UP HE GOES
(19:21-24) Before Moses unpacked his gear, the Lord said to him, “Go back down and keep them in line.”
DOWN HE GOES
(20:19) So Moses went down to the people and told them the Lord was not happy with them, but they were still trembling with fear and begged him, “You go talk to the Lord. We’ll wait right here!”
UP HE GOES
(20:21) While he was gone, God was furiously chiseling out the Ten Commandments, which he gave Moses along with a long list of additional mandates and decrees.
DOWN HE GOES
(24:1) Then, the Lord summoned Moses and Aaron and some big shots back up for some sort of conference.
UP HE GOES
(24:3) Then they went back down.
DOWN HE GOES
(24:7) Moses showed the Israelites the plans the Lord drew up. Again, in unison, they replied, “Yep, we’ll do all that stuff!” Bright and early the next morning, they got to work.
UP HE GOES
(24:18 – 31:18) Moses and Joshua climbed back up and hung out there for forty days while the Lord gave them specifics of his required offerings from the Israelites. It was some pretty pricy stuff too. ”Oh yeah, an Arc. I need an Arc. A very BIG Arc –HUGE – and fill it with lots of cool stuff! Here are the specifics, and note the required fancy priestly garments, all the way down to the underwear.”
It was a LONG forty days!
32:1-6) The Israelites didn’t think he was coming back, and it all went downhill from there (pun intended). They decided they wanted to be their own gods and make their own rules. It was party time!
32:7-14) The Lord saw what those stiff-necked fools were up to and was furious! He planned to destroy the whole lot of them. Moses begged him to recall his promises and relent. When the Lord settled down, Moses left.
DOWN HE GOES:
(32:19-29) His legs ached, and his back hurt from lugging those stone tablets down the mountain! He was exhausted. HE. WAS. LIVID.
They were all running wild – even Aaron. Moses lost it, and ended up doing what he had just begged God not to do! He had the Levites chop up about three-thousand people and then blessed the rest of them. Weird! So, back up he goes to beg God for mercy for the ones who are left. Saying nothing about making mincemeat out of 3,000 of them!
UP HE GOES:
(32:31-35) The Lord makes note of Moses’ request (insert God-sized eye-roll here) while at the same time planning the proper punishment for those who sinned. He sends Moses back down to give them the bad news, followed by a fun little plague, followed by their long walk without the Lord cause he is still fuming and afraid he might let loose and destroy them all, but he’s not sure, “I’ll let you know”.
DOWN HE GOES…
A little trivia: Did you know that Mount Sinai is about 7,500 feet high! Moses’ mountain climbing world record has never been beaten. Moses went up and down that thing eight times, trying his damnedest to keep everybody happy – God included – and look where it got him.
Still today, we seem to quickly forget or dismiss the fact that all humans are erratic and unstable screw-ups – every one of us! Moses, Aaron, and the Israelites were no exception. The Lord promised to love and care for them if they would trust him, follow the “rules”, and draw close to him. They were all about it for a millisecond – until the Lord got a bit too dramatic.
Anyway, when the Israelites saw the lightning and heard the thunder, they shrank back in fear. They ran from him to a safer place with shiny, mute, fake gods that they created themselves. They preferred distant respect over an intimate relationship: Out of reach, out of range, out of earshot.
Then, one day, as Moses was recovering from his mountain climbing adventures and feeling his age, he had an AHA moment! There had to be a better way for him to mediate between God and the Israelites from his recliner in a more practical way, less frightening, and less physical. He knew the Israelites would love it because they had already made it known they wanted to keep their distance from God, especially when they were despicable wretches deserving of God’s wrath. So, he had them build a big Box, later known as a “Confessional”. He hung his shingle out front and began the business of absolving sins. Brilliant! Never mind that not once did he run the idea by God!
Okay, fine, history tells us that is not how it went down. It was actually worse!
In his book, The Dark Box, John Cornwell tells us Pope Pius X dreamed it up. He wanted to have the reality of sin and damnation seared into the brains of every child by their first communion so he wouldn’t have to deal with the adult version of them. They were required to learn and memorize every detail of categories of sin and the appropriate punishment of Purgatory or Hell. And, yes, there would be a quiz at the end. That’s right; six-year-olds were introduced to the fear of hell that may have surpassed their fear of monsters under the bed. What fun!
I had my own AHA moment when I watched my kid’s classes full of six-year-olds go through that ritual. Deep down, I had to wonder what offense a child would possibly have to commit to rile God! It made no sense to me.
Cornwell tells us, “Many readers will be surprised to learn that prior to 1910, young children were not subjected to this rather terrifying information because they were deemed incapable of sinning in any meaningful way.”
He adds that there was also the required annual confession for everyone else as well and that this requirement was “imposed, at least in part, by church leaders who expected priests to interrogate penitents and learn if they might be heretics.” Sneaky inquisitors – the lot of them!
Even today, we prefer admiration at arm’s length over a relationship God longs for. Like the Israelites, we want someone, anyone, to stand between us and God – what confession in a Box symbolizes.
After my adult conversion, there was a period of time when I faithfully and fearfully adhered to the requirements of going to confession. Admittedly, I tried to disguise my voice or go to a different church.
So, I’m sitting – sorry – kneeling in the dark spewing all my wretchedness and waiting for the easy-peasy penance that every penitent receives, from grandma’s admission of missing one Mass in seventy years because she was in a coma, to abusive priests on their way to another assignment (ohhhhh, don’t get me started!).
The only difference seems to be the number of Hail Marys and Our Fathers required to clean the slate. Done. Then you’re off the hook till you screw up again, which was likely that same day for me. I kid you not, there were times I would ask God to take me right out of the Box – while I was all shiny clean – but please hurry!
Then, I quit “going” to confession. It happened when I realized that God isn’t interested in how many prayers we can memorize or if we meet our Hail Mary obligation. But rather, how sincere we are about changing and correcting our offenses.
I now long for intimacy that allows me to go straight to the source whenever I mess up. I don’t have to wait till Saturday between 3:30 and 4:45, and I don’t have to wait in line. And, bonus, I have never experienced one bit of thunder, lightning, or annoying trumpet noises!
I would like to end this post by sharing how three amazing people (and many more since) helped me along the path to a relationship with God: Brennon Manning, Thomas Merton, and Henri Nouwen. Sure, they were all qualified to hear confessions and dole out penance, but that is not how people change. Instead, seeing how they lived their faith helped me change how I live mine!
They professed to the world their failings AND their trust that they could draw close to God because His love is unconditional, merciful, and grace-filled. Because they believed that, so can I! They have all inspired me to long for that God!
One of my favorite quotes of Brennon Manning is, “To live by grace means to acknowledge my whole life story, the light side, and the dark. In admitting my shadow side, I learn who I am and what God’s grace means. Aristotle said I am a rational animal; I say I am an angel with an incredible capacity for beer.”
I can now profess that I am a paradox of misfitted pieces: I love and hate, forgive and hold grudges, and accept and judge others. At times, eager to give and other times, selfish. I can sing praises to God and curse the jerk who cut me off in traffic in the same breath. And on some really bad, terrible, horrible, dreadful days, I can be all those parts at once!
So, the question before us is: Do we stay stuck at the foot of the mountain or go all in? Going all in is what St. Augustine meant when he said, “The glory of God is man fully alive.”
PASSION, PURPOSE & POOPYHEADS 
