I know many people, and I’ll bet you do too, perhaps even you, who can’t believe God has a plan for them. Over the years, I have encountered people who don’t believe me when I tell them my story. “Oh, really?! God told you to do that, huh? Right!”
To be honest, I wouldn’t have believed it myself if he hadn’t gradually brought me to a place where I could trust him, even if I was fearful and had no idea what he was up to. Which, frankly, is still most of the time.
God has always longed to grow me into the person he meant me to be. It was me resisting, me not being present to him, me missing the mystery and majesty that surrounded me because I was just too busy to notice, or more likely, too afraid. So instead, I skipped along, trying to drown out his voice, “Lalalalalalalala, I can’t hear you!”
For years, there were little promptings that, in hindsight, proved to me he was on the job (Romans 8:28). Then bigger ones that required more trust and offered way more grace than I deserved. God opened my heart in ways I could not have imagined.
Though I still mess up – and often – I know God’s response is out of love for me; his admonishments tell me that he loves me too much to let me stay stuck in my messiness.
We are so used to being in a world that is loud and demanding of our attention. We busy ourselves filling in uncomfortably quiet places. That’s how we miss God’s “still small voice” or “gentle whisper” (1 Kings 19:12). Sure, he’s good at those show-stopper whirlwinds and earthquakes and fire. Even what I have called 2×4 moments but didn’t leave marks like the ones my mother inflicted.
Because of her, I was always on guard for those “laying down the law” whacks that I expected from God, too, when I messed up. However, I believe he speaks more often through the Spirit’s whispers of pure grace.
We can become so enmeshed in and blinded by the things of this world that we miss our whole purpose for being here. So if you are going through life day after unremarkable day, schlepping through the same routine to ad nauseum – STOP IT! Your life has a purpose that God depends on you to fulfill. You matter that much!
We are all called to holiness, called to use the gifts and talents already given us for God’s kingdom work right here – right now. It just takes awareness on our part. (I would highly recommend Anthony DeMello’s book by the same name, “Awareness”).
Leo Tolstoy’s novel, “The Death of Ivan Ilyich,” considered a masterpiece, was written just after his own “profound spiritual awakening” and conversion experience.
While lying on his deathbed, Ilyich ruminated about the reality that his entire life was superficial and self-serving, and he profoundly stated, “Maybe I didn’t live as I should have done.” In the end, he posited a question that Tolstoy must have pondered himself, “What if I really have been wrong in the way I’ve lived my whole life, my conscious life?” Oops, a little late, buddy!
It was too late for Ilyich, but not Tolstoy. He discovered his purpose and rejected his aristocratic life to follow Jesus’ teachings – particularly the Sermon on the Mount. Years later, his writings had a profound impact on Mahatma Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr., and countlessothers.
Soooooo, what are you waiting for? You must still be breathing, or you wouldn’t be reading this. That’s a start. Incredibly, no matter how you lived your life to this point, it’s not too late to begin again. New beginnings are God’s specialty!
“To infinity and beyond!” God coined that phrase, you know. Don’t believe me? HUMPH! Check out Ephesians 3:20, “Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us.”
Alrighty then, you’re pumped and ready to go, right? You’ve packed your sandals and camel hair coat and checked Google Maps – for what? A sign from God?
(free bible images)
Stop! Take a deep breath. Maybe start by sitting quietly with God and waiting.
Don’t look to anyone else to give you a formula or a checklist to send you on your way to your destiny. But I willtell you this: You cannot love and serve others (which is our greatest calling) until you can love yourself.
And you can’t love yourself by utilizing any of the myriad self-help books on the market. You can only do that by growing in the knowledge that you are deeply and passionately loved first by the God who created you!
And you can only do that by being in relationship with him, which requires your time and attention. You are his son/daughter with whom he is well-pleased (Matthew 17:5). Let that sink in. We are all deeply loved sinners. It’s high time we act like it, don’t you think?
Absolutely, go to church, take the time to read scripture, and pray, But mostly, LISTEN! Geeeezzzzz, we’re so bad at listening.
I am in a place in my life, that last bit of my journey, that rounding the corner and spotting the finish line, where I could easily bemoan my failings. I’m now certain it’s too late for, oh, I don’t know, running the New York City marathon or climbing Kilimanjaro. Beyond that, I don’t know.
The blessings of uncertainty
Uncertainty seems to be rejected by many Christians who see it as a weakness. Certitude, on the other hand, is what we subscribe to in a faith that makes God more acceptable and knowable, with no surprises lurking in the bushes. It offers a checklist of everything we need to do to “get to heaven” – Attend church weekly. Check. Tithe 10% of your earnings before expenses and frivolous spending. Check-ish. No cursing, snarkiness, or holier-than-thouness – on Sundays – the rest of the week is fine.
If you’ve checked those boxes, nothing more is expected of you – EVER! You can just go about your life any way you please. I can profess to having been all in with those “rules”. Until I wasn’t. That’s the point in my life when I looked back and saw the emptiness and shallowness of my existence. That’s when God spoke into my brokenness and showed me his equally broken heart because he knew he created me for more. The gifts and blessings he had given me sat unused because of fear and doubt that I was worthy of them.
In this place, I thought I could act as if God didn’t really care, and I could go about my life risk-free. But what if my denying that my life actually had a purpose turned out to be a no-good, very bad, nightmarish end? What then? Could I take my “followed all the rules” checklist to the gates of heaven, and they would open wide to me while the angels sang hallelujah? (BTW, heaven isn’t a place. You know that, right?) Anyway…
I ever so slowly began to sit with God and actually listen to his promptings to “go,” like Abraham. I trusted him—mostly. I also resisted my impulses to explain to him why whatever direction he was pointing me in was probably not a good idea. I reminded him of the litany of all my failings and wondered if someone else (think Moses) might be a better choice. Is Aaron still around?
Slow but steady change
I know exactly when I began to change. It was in 2001, on that momentous day, in the early morning, when God butted into my perfectly peaceful run and changed my life. I’ve told that story often, so I won’t bore you with it again, except to say that God has had me on a lot of adventures since then!
I have had many fits and starts and often questioned the wisdom of his guidance, only to see afterward how each experience changed and grew me in some way. They have each played a part in helping me to believe that God’s plan for each of us is perfect – always! And if you doubt that for a moment, let me share this incredible story about St. Benedict Joseph Labore. Everything in quotations is taken from the book SAINTS FOR SINNERS by Alban Goodier, S.J. https://www.ewtn.com/catholicism/library/st-benedict-joseph-labre-the-beggar-saint-5838.
The poor, homeless, beggar saint who never stumbled
Saint Benedict Joseph Labore was born into a wealthy family. His parents and fourteen siblings loved that lifestyle, but not Benedict. He rejected their obsession with fame and fortune – it disgusted him. So, off he went as a young teenager to make his own way, to discover his purpose. He was certain he was destined to be a monk. But it was a long road with many rejections and disappointments along the way.
He was first drawn to the Trappist Order as their ideas were contrary to what everyone else seemed to treasure. He applied to the La Trappe Abby, but when he arrived, they rejected him, stating that “He was underage, he was too delicate; he had no special recommendations.” But he didn’t give up. He applied to the the Carthusians of Montreuil only to be rejected once again. Still unwilling to give up, he applied to another Carthusain order. He was accepted but was soon rejected by them because “The monks grew uneasy; they feared for the brain of this odd young man. They told him he had no vocation, and he was dismissed.” Even after being rejected three times and being told he was simply not monk material, he was still resolute, knowing differently in his heart.
Undeterred, he began a year-long course of studies the Carthusians listed as the cause of his rejection. He reapplied, and they accepted him. But, again, it was short-lived, and they showed him the door. Still, he tried two more times for acceptance, to no avail.
So, at the age of twenty-five, undeterred and still determined to live his calling, he set off on his own, with nothing and no one to accompany him. He endured the extreme elements, ate what was given to him by the generosity of others, and he smelled – bad! But, somehow, he felt “no bitterness or disappointment” in this life of poverty that he embraced. He died a pauper at the age of thirty-four. Awww, too bad, you say? What a wasted life, you say? Wellll….
Here comes a miracle!
Word quickly got out that he died: “So great was the crowd that the guard of police had to be doubled; a line of soldiers accompanied the body to the church; more honor could scarcely have been paid to a royal corpse.
From the moment it was laid there, the church thronged with mourners….The throng all the time went on increasing. People of every rank and condition gathered there, at the feet of Benedict the Beggar. But the enthusiasm did not end with the funeral. Crowds continued to flock to the church, and soldiers were called out to keep order. At length the expedient was tried of closing the church altogether for some days. It was of no avail; as soon as the church was reopened, the crowds came again and continued coming for two months. Nothing like it had been seen before, even in Rome; if ever anyone was declared a saint by popular acclamation it was Benedict Joseph Labre, the beggar.”
Who am I to question God’s plan?
Now, I could easily compare St. Benedict’s story to my own meager efforts to use the gifts God has given me to serve and care for others. But what I have learned from this is that God isn’t asking for perfection. He has no expectations other than the offering of my “yes” to him and that I will do my best. The rest belongs to him. And the only thing I should long for at the end of my life are the words, “Well done!” Well done – indeed!
From the 1950s to the 1970s, there was a popular TV show called “To Tell the Truth”. I loved watching it as a kid.
Recently, my, always-loving-to-push-the-limits mind wondered: what if the show came back, and the first episode had three contestants who claimed to be God? They would all have to be hidden behind a screen or disguised because I’m pretty sure we could identify him.
(Charatoon image)
Then, I wondered: if I was on the panel, what questions would I ask to flush out the real God? That might be tricky. But here it goes:
1. “One of my grandkids would cheat at board games and make up the rules as he went along, so I quit playing with him. Do You make up your own “rules” depending on your mood that day?”
2. “How many “rules” can I break without coming back as a slug in my next life? Asking for a friend.”
3. “What are you made of – flesh and bone or smoke and mirrors?”
4. “If you really loved us, why did you make ice cream fattening?”
That was fun to imagine, but let’s move on.
The subject of God’s “rules” seems to ever be on our minds. If God’s not going to send us a modern-day “Moses” to help us tick off an updated list of “rules to live by,” then we will need to make some decisions ourselves. I think it’s more critical than ever for each of us to decide where we stand here.
Perhaps the place to begin is to come face-to-face with the age-old idea of an angry, vengeful, impossible-to-please God who confounds many of us. Even though today’s young people seem to be able to see right through him. They reject the blind faith of the older generations, and I can speak to that because I’m old.
In my past life of black-and-white faith, I was sure about EVERY SINGLE THING, even the fact that God would get those who refused to follow the dogmas and dictates infallibly laid out for us in his own words in a nicely leather-bound Bible that he dropped from heaven like manna.
I read that Bible from front to back several times. As a die-hard Catholic, I wasn’t supposed to do that. I was supposed to leave it to the “Experts”. But I had to see for myself. And, yep, it was all in there. All the literal “truths” that I didn’t discover until later were reformulated repeatedly to keep the masses in line.
And then it happened: In 2008, at the age of fifty-nine, a course of events upended everything I was certain about. I was offered a rare opportunity to attend Graduate School paid for by a grant. That’s a whole, “How the hell did that happen?!” story by itself, but we’ll leave that for another day.
I quickly discovered that there was a reason a string of Bishops in St. Louis made every effort to have that school shut down because those professors were corrupting minds. They dared to challenge us to think! Fortunately, Aquinas was independent of the Archdiocese, so they had no control!
One of the first questions in my Scripture Studies class was, “What if the story of Adam and Eve was just a myth and they were not even actual people? What if the snake didn’t talk? Would it shatter your faith?”
Wait! What?!
Right out of the gate, the certitude I clutched like a security blanket was unraveling. I had so many “what ifs” to sort through I’m surprised I survived. My righteous, superior attitude was being dismantled right in front of me, and it wasn’t pretty! But, I stayed and endured the painful reality of my shallowness – because – well – what if?!
I could give you many examples of how much Scripture was written, not by God, but by faulty humans, many with an agenda. But I won’t. Well, okay, maybe just one. Staying with Adam and Eve, how about the origin of “Original Sin”? Always a fun topic of discussion.
Let’s pick it apart, beginning with a peek into the relationship between Augustine, the author of “Original Sin”, and his mother, Monica. He was a rebel-rousing, partying, sex-lustful heathen with no intention of changing. Still, she was relentless in her prayers.
She admonished him over and over, but he was having too much fun to take her seriously. Finally, after years of her incessant nagging and possibly a heavenly whack (I’ve received my share of those, they leave marks!), he finally saw the error of his ways, or maybe a paternity suit influenced his decision. Anyway, he did a 180 and converted to a man of faith.
But then, there was the terrible reality of his life of sin and debauchery. How would he account for that? Being unwilling to take responsibility for his miserable life, he conjured up a brilliant idea, “I know”, he said to himself, “I will blame it all on Satan! Yeah, that’s the ticket!” And so he created this incredible story about two characters he named Adam & Eve. Oh yeah, and the Devil disguised as a snake who talked (nothing sketchy there).
And, voila, Augustine is off the hook for all his sexual indiscretions, and Satan took the fall. Brilliant!
Thus the well-worn bumper sticker, “THE DEVIL MADE ME DO IT!” was created by some genius who got rich from it and moved to the Bahamas.
Now, the obvious question arises: Does any of this raise any red flags regarding our convictions about Scripture and God? Anything? I have one: How are we supposed to believe in and follow a God we can’t label; a God that truly is more mystery than certainty?
Robin Meyers’ most recent book, “Saving God from Religion” offers his thoughts for “…everyone who is struggling with the old and narrow definitions of God but has yet to see any coherent and comprehensive way to reimagine the Ultimate Mystery…. we long for a faith that is more than judgmental certainty, more than “believe and receive.” ….we are hungry for new ways to heal and transform the broken world we inhabit.”
Perhaps, at this moment when so many once faithful have emptied the churches, and many others never gave God a chance, we are all challenged to reject that Great and Terrible Wizard that has been pulling our strings for too long. I don’t know a lot, but I do know that is no longer the God I have grown to love.
(The Wizard – Tenor GIF)
Today’s Extremists have created a violence and hateful God. One who seems to empower them to war against those who are different than them, seen as lesser, or not seen at all. Their god did not create all humankind in his image. Instead, they created their own god in their image and then defined “Christians” as only those adhering to the creeds and doctrines of their particular denomination. The God they worship is a Mighty Warrior that will beat the crap out of the rest of humanity – the lesser than, outcasts, poor, and lost beings.
We must ask ourselves honestly, does any of this make sense? Can we just stop and dare to question our beliefs that someone else with control issues instilled in us? Is it starting to feel like we have been conned by a little man with an intimidatingly loud voice behind a curtain?
I know it feels unsettling to let go of certitude and live in the question. But blindly following beliefs that just don’t work anymore isn’t the answer. Is that what Father Richard Rohr is speaking to here? – ” The human ego hates a genuinely new experience. It hates to change and is preoccupied with control. A genuinely new idea leaves you out of control for a while and forces you to reassess your terrain, find new emotions, and realign your life coordinates. We prefer to stay in our small comfort zones. God usually has to break in or break us down to break through to us.”
What are the “facts’ of our Christian faith? How about this: God created us from love for love (John 3:16). He created us in his image (Genisis 1:27). If that’s true, which I believe it is, how does the notion of “Original Sin” make any sense?
It has taken me a long time to understand that I have nothing to prove to anyone. I simply try to be the best version of myself, to do the next right thing, to give and ask for forgiveness, to grow in empathy for those who suffer, and to imagine a better, kinder, more compassionate world.
Okay, that was some heavy stuff, so I want to leave you with the hysterical and profound thoughts of Rami Shapiro, the author of “Holy Rascals”. In one section he offers made-up letters written by made-up kids addressed to God.
What’s so incredible is that these thoughts came from beliefs he literally heard from adults. He says, the letters “are not about dismissing dogma, doctrine, or belief, but about taking dogma, doctrine, and belief to their absurdist conclusions.” They made me laugh so hard I spit coffee through my nose – just giving you a heads-up. Here are just two:
Dear God,
My pastor says you need the blood of Jesus to calm down so you won’t get mad and send us to Hell. My mom makes me go to my room when I get mad. Maybe you should try that instead.
Dear God,
My pastor says when your son comes back to earth, he will send my gramma and grampa to Hell because they are Methodists. Please don’t let him come back before my birthday because they promised to take me to Disney World.
I have wasted a great deal of time lamenting my aging body. If I ever had ambitions of being a swimsuit model, that’s off the table. You’re welcome!
The wrinkles and bags seem to multiply by the day. It’s why I never want my picture taken. I figured that when I die, and my kids put together that poster board of memories, the “latest” photo of me will be a Glamour Shot from thirty years ago!
Every seasonal change prompts me to donate clothes I don’t wear, haven’t worn for the past ten years, and will likely never fit into again. When I’m finished, the “pile” of items usually consists of a pair of socks someone gave me for Christmas. That’s it. Because – well – maybe I’ll lose weight next year. Hope springs eternal!
My frequent adventures into reality never end well, as they usually prompt me to eat copious amounts of chocolate! Until yesterday, when I read a meditation by my all-time favorite author and human, Kate Bowler. It was titled “Becoming Real”, in which she shares her creation of the “Gospel of the Velveteen Rabbit.” It brought me to tears – good and bad.
Bowler tells us how sad the rabbit is because he’s so worn from being drug around through life. He’s become tattered and torn and fears he’ll be cast aside. No longer his beautiful, fluffy, shiny self. His buddy, the Skin Horse, who’s been around much longer and is much wiser, tells him, “That’s how you become real.”
Bowler explains, “We become real through our wear and tear. By healing from the cruelty we didn’t deserve. By being loved imperfectly and loving imperfectly. In both, we change and keep changing. As the Skin Horse explains, ‘Generally, by the time you are real, most of your hair has been loved off (check), and your eyes drop out (kinda), and you get loose in the joints and very shabby (check and check). But these things don’t matter because once you are Real, you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.’”
As I reflected on this meditation about the beauty of “being Real,” I realized how much I have focused on the wrong things. I spent so much time lamenting my childhood, the abuse of my mother, the sexual abuse, feelings of being invisible because none of my teachers ever questioned my acting out in school, and an attempted suicide in my twenties. I never allowed myself to see the inner beauty that has made me “Real.”
The transformation of a self-centered, angry, lost little girl to the person God created me to be from the beginning should be a cause for celebration! Has that erased all the bad memories? No. But it has helped relegate them to the past, where they no longer affect my sense of who I am, my worth, and my dignity.
I would not be caring or thoughtful of myself or others, drawn towards serving others, or know how much I have to be grateful for had I not accepted this journey. Even with all its rough patches and dark places, it has made me more joyful and fulfilled than I ever could have imagined.
Oh, believe me, I have many moments of admonition from God when I screw up. More than I care to admit. But my heart is open to seeing my faults and correcting them quickly. I can only do that through a newfound humility and the grace of God.
Oh, the games we play. I know them well. I’ve been playing them all my life. The games that hide our suffering, that mask our own sinfulness, and help us survive.
Growing up, I was always made to believe I was not worthy of love or care. So, I tried desperately to find my worth in things and accomplishments.
I have been artificially propped up by an ego that is always on the alert for another opportunity to impress others, starting years ago as a youth minister and then at Youth-in-Need, hospice, and working with the homeless.
Being pumped up by the admiring comments of others filled a void, “Oh, I admire you for what you do. It takes a special person to do that.” I pretended to brush off the comment while secretly hoping this would be the year I would receive the Time Magazine Person of the Year award. I kinda gave up on that one. I know…shocking!
Are you impressed yet? Do you know who isn’t impressed? Who’s saddened by this litany of “accomplishments” by yours truly? GOD!
1 Cor. 7 speaks directly to the ego, “What are you so puffed up about? What do you have that God hasn’t given you? And if all you have is from God, why act as though you are so great and as though you have accomplished something on your own?” Ouch!
In hindsight, I know God was present in all of this. He watched and waited for my AHA moments; for those moments, I could clearly see my shallow attempts to feed the hunger and loneliness of others – all while denying my own.
And those AHA moments were truly profound! Moments when my initial shallowness transformed into compassion and empathy for those I was serving. That’s how God works. He was converting my heart right in the midst of my brokenness.
So, there’s my story—the good, bad, and ugly. And this is my hope – that I am finally recognizing the person I was created to be and the purpose I am to fulfill for whatever time I have left here: to truly point others to God and not myself.
I’m not sure what tomorrow’s going to look like – but I am sure I’m in good hands! I will leave you with this beautiful song by Casting Crowns: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_eQd3K2Fxp4
I know I may seem to spend an inordinate amount of time on the subject of death. But, really, when something happens that brings death to the forefront of my thoughts, the deeper revelation is always about life, the meaning of the fullness of life, the blessings of life, and its fleeting reality.
The most basic question I return to over and over again? Am I living my life like I KNOW all of that? The answer is usually, “Not so much,” – and so, I begin again until I forget again, and then I am reminded…again!
I must be forgetting too often because I recently had two powerful reminders from past experiences. Cherie Carter-Scott, in her amazing book, “If Life is a Game, These are the Rules,” offers her ten rules for being human. Rule #4 applies here: “Lessons will be repeated until learned.” I guess I’m a slow learner. So, let me try again.
A few years ago, Tom & I were driving home. On the highway, we swerved to miss hitting a dog that someone else had hit. It was still alive, so we went back. We waved traffic away from the dog so we could pull it off the road. Tom called the police, and we sat on the side of the road for thirty minutes while the dog lay dying. With the exception of its labored breathing, it never moved. The police never came, and the dog finally died.
It was a pit bull with no collar. As I sat there, I couldn’t help but wonder if it was a stray, if it was wild, if it was rabid. But none of that mattered. When once I would have been afraid of this dog, I was now stroking its head.
And my reminder about life? I was thinking about all the people who die this way. Every human being has been created in the image of God. All are loved by God. Yet, many die in obscurity, alone and broken.
This brings me to the second incident I recalled when a dear friend’s father died. Her parents had been divorced for years, and all of her siblings disowned him. They could never forgive him for the pain he caused them and their mother. But she stayed in relationship with him all those years. My own attitude towards him was cold and indifferent.
When he died, I went to the funeral service. There were a lot of people there, which surprised me. Then, another surprise! The service was on a Wednesday. People could leave work for a few minutes to pay their respects to the family, but surely they would return to work or their busy lives. When everyone was invited to attend the luncheon, most of them went. It was crazy. I went for a few minutes but had to leave. Okay, I really didn’t have to leave, but I did. My friend and I agreed to meet the next morning to go for a walk.
This is where God entered my cold, pathetic heart. When I met with her, she began to relate to me what had happened after I left. She had noticed that there were several people there her family didn’t know. As everyone was eating lunch, she asked if anyone wanted to share a story about her father.
Some began to stand up and talk about him. One was a waitress in one of his favorite restaurants. She said he was so nice and would listen to her talk about things that she struggled with in her life. Several other people from other places he frequented said the same thing.
So there I was…I stopped dead in my tracks and began to sob, “Oh my gosh. I missed a blessing! I refused to give your father the compassion and care he deserved, and I missed the blessing of the life he tried to live.”
Yes, he made mistakes, and yes, he hurt his family. But, over those years of separation from them, he became a different person, a better person, but for strangers, not his daughters. How sad and how common that is. By pushing him away and shutting him out of their lives, none of them ever healed.
In my long, often selfish lifetime, I have learned that there is really only one thing that’s important—love. Not love of things; love of God, ourselves, and others.
Thinking about those two incidents ushered God back into my thoughts about life and death:
Death does not care if we have left business unfinished, relationships broken, or children to be raised. It doesn’t matter if we are not ready or sit on promises to change.
It will take the weak with the strong, the humble with the proud, the saint with the jerk.
Death doesn’t respect wedding plans, vacation plans, or unmet deadlines.
It does not operate by a timetable we set, and is no respecter of age.
It does not discriminate between the most loved and most hated.
It may not wait for the most brilliant to cure cancer, bring peace to a troubled nation, or receive a Nobel Prize.
Denying that death is a part of life is like believing we still look like our high school picture.
We can’t rely on death to come when we are ready. We can rely on it to teach those of us who are willing how to truly live.
It can and should be a time of reflection. Have I lived well, loved well, forgiven — honestly – and sought forgiveness humbly?
Good or bad, I have touched the lives of family and friends, the mailman, and the grumpy receptionist at the doctor’s office. Have I left love and joy in the hearts of those I will leave behind?
I may have amassed wealth and recognition and may leave a fortune to my loved ones. All things they can pack away, gamble away, or throw away. But, at the end of the day...what have I left in their hearts?
Well, I’m not dead yet, so I can get back on track and try to live my life fully, love fully, and allow the ebb and flow of life and certainty of death to teach me what truly matters if I am a willing student.
And now, I will leave you with this awesome quote by Grace Hansen: “Don’t be afraid your life will end;be afraid that it will never begin.”
In the immortal words of Mike Tyson, “Everyone has a plan till you get punched in the face”. That, I believe, is the moment you realize those plans are not serving you well, that your life is out of control, and no one is coming to rescue you.
Sooooo….
You have to take control of your own life if you want to start waking up to your purpose.
You will never have a good relationship with anyone until you change your relationship with yourself. That requires honesty and self-love.
We are so skilled at blaming others for our unhappiness: an abusive parent, that mean third-grade teacher, God, whoever.
Looking in the mirror is not an option because that would be way too scary. Instead, we allow our ego to run roughshod over us and keep us under its control. But looking in the mirror is the starting point to change.
It’s like standing on burning coals, crying out to God to take away the pain, and then being angry with him for not doing it. Just move your damn feet!
Vance Morgan speaks to our flaws and faults we try to hide, “ … What if there are some parts of my “self” that I hide because I don’t like them because they might reveal character flaws and weaknesses that I would prefer no one know about?” Never mind that everyone does know about them. They’re pretty obvious by the way we interact with others.
And besides, we all have flaws and faults. We can sit in judgment of everyone who makes messes in our lives. But at the end of the day, we must turn that anger toward our own sinfulness.
Years ago, I read a book by Cherie Carter-Scott titled, “IF LIFE is a GAME, THESE are the RULES”. She explains that our life’s lessons are repeated as often as it takes to learn them. Then, we can move on to new lessons.
Those people in your life who seem to hurt your feelings repeatedly? Lessons.
Those people who get on your last nerve? Lessons.
If we are willing to reflect on the triggers they cause, we will see what the universe constantly tries to show us.
Believe me, after all the years that I whined and cried about the unfairness of my life, of the constant dumping of other people’s crap into my lap, I could finally see I was reacting to the actions of others that reside within myself. It wasn’t pretty.
When it finally became too much to bear, and I fell into the grace of God with all the humility I could muster (which wasn’t much), something unexpectedly changed my focus and, in turn, my life. It began with my working with teenagers who, truth be told, I didn’t even like very much at the time.
I started a youth group at my church, thinking I would be doing them a favor. Aren’t I awesome, and don’t you love me to pieces because I’m doing this for you? It took God a while to get through my hard head as to why I was doing it. I needed my hurting ego fed. But the kids were very accommodating, and my ego was getting all the attention it longed for – until it wasn’t. It was pretty pathetic.
When you invest so much time and energy in something so shallow it inevitably collapses in on itself. Which is what happened to me. Then, there was a sudden breakthrough concerning the immense difference between taking and giving. Constantly taking is draining, while giving without expectations is fulfilling beyond imagining.
I believe it was then that I grew to love those, sometimes obnoxious, teens for no reason except that God loved them. That moment changed the trajectory of my life and showed me that I indeed had a purpose, that I was not the center of the universe, and the only person making me miserable was – well – me.
Though my purpose has changed and evolved over the years, the fullness of heart I feel comes only from God and from listening to him. Even when I wonder if he has lost his mind!
My life, thus far, has been an amazing and often surprising adventure. It has not been without its share of heartaches and disappointments. But through it all, God has never left me, or misguided or disappointed me.
So, if you are in a place in your life where you feel stuck in your messiness and trapped in your hurt and anger towards others you think have ruined your life – I implore you to stop. God has a plan for you. I know that for a fact. He’s waiting for you to let go of that over-burdening ego and allow him to guide your life. You will not regret it.
Those God wants to send you to serve are waiting and hoping for exactly what your gifts can bring into their lives. And isn’t that better than being continually “punched in the face”?!
According to the FDA: “With the exception of infant formula, the laws that the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) administers do not preclude the sale of food that is past the expiration date indicated on the label. The FDA does not require food firms to place ‘expired by’, ‘use by’, or ‘best before’ dates on food products. This information is entirely at the discretion of the manufacturer.”
I admit that I can be lax about adherence to those dates. Even perishable food can be tested. Milk is a good example. After it has reached the date on the carton, smell it, and take the tiniest taste. Then, you’ll know if it’s okay for another day—simple enough and money-saving.
To many, the expiration date stamped on food products is gospel, which, they believe, is critical to our health and well-being and justifies throwing away so much food when nearly 34 million Americans suffer food insecurity.
Then there are human expiration dates
This begs the question: Why do we so stubbornly oppose, ignore, or deny THIS expiration date:
That reality is probably the most profound image of “whistling past the graveyard”. Every one of us has an expiration date. It’s not arbitrary or negotiable. And, yes, it IS set in stone.
Okay, a bit of clarification: God can change that date if he wants to. He can do anything he wants. But are you willing to bet on that?
It’s also quite possible when your doctor told you you had six months to live – ten years ago – that all those prayers raised to heaven on your behalf were answered. But I believe it’s more probable that the doctor was wrong. It reminds me of the expression, “If it ain’t your time to go, not even a doctor can kill you”.
Anyway…
Here’s a fun factoid (sorry, this is probably gross for you to consider), when we humans reach our final stage of life, usually the last couple of days or hours, there is an unmistakable smell of death (a bit like spoiled milk – only worse!).
It’s one of the signs of the end of life’s journey. I have experienced it sitting vigil with Hospice patients. But don’t count on that smell test to help you decide to hurry up and clean up your act. Unfortunately, at that point, you will be too far gone to make any life-changing decisions.
How to begin to prepare for that fateful day
So many times, I have tried to change, then failed miserably. However, the older I get, the more I realize my time is running out for a course correction. Perhaps it would be easiest if I start with small changes. Then work up to the, “Damn! You did what, Linda?!”
I can smile at that grouchy neighbor of mine and stop throwing his dog’s poop over his fence after dark – maybe – IDK – I kind of enjoy that!
I can apologize for all the messes I have made in people’s lives. That should fill my time!
It often sucks royally because I’m certain some are not likely to acknowledge or accept my efforts. I must keep trying, though, with humility and by the grace of God, who tells us that our efforts will not be in vain (1 Corinthians 15:58).
With that in mind, I have determined – again – to make an honest effort to make course corrections while I still can. I have so much to consider:
Old hurts I have refused to let go of that make me angry and mean.
Lies of other broken people I have fed on and nurtured.
My own guilt and shame I cannot let go of.
And, most importantly, denial of my worth as a beloved child of God.
What’s the goal?
I long to grow in love. I want to use each day, however many I have left, to fully live as the person I was created to be.
Saint Irenaeus said: “The glory of God is man fully alive.” If we call ourselves Christian, we should want to strive for our faith’s ultimate goal – to love God, love ourselves, and love and care for others. And it’s not a goal we can afford to put off. It’s something we should strive for every day, right here, right now because this is where our heaven and hell reside. We choose heaven and hell daily.
Our hell is right here if that’s the life we are living.
Our heaven is right here if we choose to live as God calls us to.
I wrote the following Blog post on 4/2/2021 (Good Friday), having no idea that my husband would pass away just fifteen days later. The words are now more poignant than ever. I have added my thoughts since his passing at the end.
(Pixabay image)
Every death diminishes me
Every Good Friday, we are called to remember the brutal beating and crucifixion of Jesus. He walked in the midst of those deemed lesser and unimportant. They experienced his love and compassion for them. But he walked a lonely road to his death. Sure, a few dared to walk with him (ahem…the women!). But many, his disciples in particular, scattered for their own safety, feeling powerless to stop it from happening.
Also, we are reliving the horrific facts of George Floyd’s death during Derek Chauvin’s trial. Hearing the witnesses’ testimony as they broke down and grieved over watching Floyd die has been excruciating for many. Most witnesses were strangers to him, yet they all spoke of feeling helpless and guilty that they didn’t try to help him. Even though they also knew they were powerless to do so.
Jesus was innocent of any crime. George Floyd was not. But the fact remains that neither deserved to die so violently at the hands of others.
So, I sit and contemplate how their deaths have impacted me. As a professed Christian, I am called to emulate Jesus’ radical love in every aspect of my life. I mostly fail, but I keep trying and longing to be more like him and less like me.
And George Floyd? I didn’t know him and likely never would have, nor would most of us, if not for witnessing his horrific death on the daily news.
In those beautiful and poignant words of John Donne, “No man is an island; entire of itself…any man’s death diminishes me because I am involved in mankind.”
That is a fact of God’s making. We are all interconnected – like it or not. The death of another, be it a loved one or a stranger, should call us to stop and take inventory of our own lives. Every funeral I attend does that for me and often shines a light on my failings to be Christ-like to others. Thankfully, every day is a new day – a day to begin again.
Wake up!
So, here’s what I will contemplate and pray about and hopefully act on daily. It doesn’t have to be Jesus who calls us to be better, kinder, softer, and to live and love more fully. It can also be the death of a stranger we have never met that wakes us from sleepwalking through life.
Facing the realization that we will also die (sorry if that’s news to you) – maybe sooner than later (sorry again) – should cause us to ask ourselves if our houses are in order and, more importantly, what we are leaving behind because…
Death doesn’t care
Death does not care if we have left business unfinished, relationships broken, or children to be raised. It doesn’t matter if we are not ready or sit on promises to change. It will take the weak with the strong, the humble with the proud, the saint with the jerk.
Death doesn’t respect wedding plans, vacation plans, or unmet deadlines. It does not operate by a timetable we set and is no respecter of age. It does not discriminate between the most loved or most hated. It may not wait for the most brilliant to cure cancer, bring peace to a troubled world, or receive a Nobel Prize.
Denying that death is a part of life doesn’t change its reality. We can’t rely on death to come when we are ready. But we can depend on it to teach those of us who are willing how to truly live.
Death can and should be a time of reflection.
Have I lived well, loved well, forgiven — honestly – and sought forgiveness humbly?
For good or bad, I have touched the lives of family and friends, the mailman, and the grumpy receptionist at the doctor’s office. I may have amassed wealth and recognition and left a fortune to my loved ones. All things they can pack away, gamble away, or throw away. But, at the end of the day…what have I left in their hearts?
So now?
As I contemplate the reality that my life has changed drastically, my beliefs have not.
The suddenness of my husband’s death has not made me fearful or anxious, as I know God’s love and care for me have always been steady and unchanging, even when I have so often failed to appreciate it. But, at the same time, it drives home the fact that my own life is not guaranteed beyond this moment. So, what does that mean?
My life is filled with many moments of disbelief that my husband is actually gone. I’m sure that will continue for some time. But, in the midst of that, as I daily make decisions about how I am to “live and move and have my being” (Acts 17:28) – I am discovering my better self, my true self, not the self on display when others are watching.
I am asking critical questions that will surely determine my life’s direction, purpose, and focus for whatever time I have left here. How will/should I live my life moving forward? What do I want my loved ones to remember when I’m gone?
God longs for us to use the gifts he has given us to leave the world better than we found it. How will I do that? How will I serve in this time of such need and suffering? Every moment of every day allows us to grow in love and compassion for all those we encounter on this journey.
There truly are gifts in the midst of our goodbyes. What do I want mine to be? What do you want yours to be?
Do you know what February 22nd is? Yeah, yeah, Ash Wednesday for millions of Christians around the world. Many are called to prayer, fasting, and penance between Ash Wednesday and Easter Sunday – other traditions have some version of that.
Before Ash Wednesday, they are supposed to wrestle with something that they LOVE – A LOT –like chocolate, or cussing, or binge-watching those stupid TV shows, and give it up for those forty days. Good luck with that and your commitment to exercise too! We’re so pathetic when it comes to the teeniest bit of “suffering”.
But there’s anotherevent on this day that everyone, faithful and heathen alike, will be celebrating. Something easier to stick to. It is – drum roll, please…
National Margarita Day!!! Olay…olay…olay…olay!
(Tenor GIF)
It is a sad commentary for all people of faith that they seem to compete with each other. Think of how many faithful receive their ashes on a throbbing forehead after reveling the night before.
Ash Wednesday should be one of the most sacred of church seasons. You see them everywhere, people with those strange ashes on their foreheads. You want to reach up and wipe it off for them because you think they don’t know it’s there, “You have something on your forehead. Let me get that for you.”
Some people focus these forty days before Easter entirely on the “giving up” aspect of it. Chocolate sales are probably higher on the days leading up to Lent than on Valentine’s Day! Perhaps that’s how Valentine’s Day got its start! Ya’ think? People began buying copious amounts of chocolate in February, and someone at Hershey noticed. It probably had nothing to do with St. Valentine. It’s a commercial windfall for Hershey and Hallmark. Cha-Ching! But I digress.
The morning after Ash Wednesday and National Margarita Day may appear to be similar.
Ash Wednesday:
You wake up wondering if you really want to do this again.
You feel an emptiness you can’t define.
You wonder if you did anything the past year that you’ll regret confessing because you conveniently forgot that one nasty faux pas you failed to mention last year. OOPS. You know those stay on our record, right?
You shower that already-faded reminder off your forehead and act like it never happened. You check the mirror. Thank goodness it’s not a tattoo!
You ask yourself, again,“Why do I put myself through this forty-day review of all my shittiness… Every. Single. Miserable. Year?!”
You question if any of it even matters.
National Margureta Day:
You wake up forgetting what happened the night before.
You feel an emptiness you can’t define.
You wonder if you did anything stupid the night before. You usually do, and someone you were with will probably remind you or point out that tattoo they warned you against.
You down a couple of aspirins for the headache.
Then, you ask yourself – again – why you continue to do this when the outcome is always the same?
You question if this annual event should be struck from your calendar!
Like it or not, they will both be back. You just have to decide which one you will allow in because it really is up to you. Alcohol will try to force its way into your mouth. Jesus will gently knock on the door of your heart. One will try t’kill’ya, and the other wants to bring you back to life. You decide.
Here is the beautiful lesson of Lent we can all take away, “Lent is not about giving up. It’s about finding. It’s about healing. It’s about cleansing. It’s about weeping. It’s about reconciling,” says Carla Mae Streeter, O.P. (one of my former professors.) And only a person in love truly “gets it.” That’s where remembering becomes critical. Of course, we must never forget the suffering of Christ and the Love that hung on the cross on Good Friday. But that cannot be where it ends.
We must take our remembering into Easter Sunday and beyond – and rejoice! Death has no sting. Hell has no victory! God loves us that much! If we forget that, if we become so caught up in other “things” in our lives, we lose, and Satan wins.
John Eldridge tells us that “the story of your life is the story of the long and brutal assault on your heart by the one who knows what you could be and fears it. We must never forget that we are part of a greater story.”
(author unknown)
Lent has something to teach us, no matter what our faith is. It’s about remembering. And who doesn’t need to be continually reminded of who we are as God’s beloved? (Also, when you walk out your front door the next morning, remember that God loves your neighbor too – even though he threw up on your lawn last night!)
During the most difficult of times, are we aware that we are truly being held by a Mighty, Awesome, and Loving God? The richness of your life comes from a promise kept by the God who LOVES YOU DEEPLY AND PASSIONATELY. If the cross doesn’t prove that, if the empty tomb doesn’t prove that, if the resurrection doesn’t prove that, nothing will. You were created for love. Try to remember that.
I recently celebrated my seventy-fourth birthday. I think seventy-four years is a loooooong time to be doing the same dumb things over and over. I also think God agrees! That’s surely why he’s intent on repeating himself until I – hopefully (hope springs eternal) – change.
Let me say that God has done some pretty incredible work in my life! And there have been significant changes over the years. But there is one thing, and unfortunately, it is the main thing I have struggled to submit to: humility. Oh sure, I can lay claim to superficial humility. You know, that surface stuff that implodes the first time some jerk gets on my bad side!
And so, like our poor friend Phil, I go to bed every night with good intentions and wake up the next morning finding myself stuck in the same place.
I recall that moment in the movie when Phil said to Rita, “I have been stabbed, shot, poisoned, frozen, hung, electrocuted, and burned, and every morning I wake up without a scratch on me”? That would make a great metaphor for my life, except for the “without a scratch” part.
My Groundhog Day consists of continual lessons in humility – or lack there of. Ready? Buckle up!
I was once a concept of God’s wild and magnificent imagination. I can envision all the angels in heaven dancing for joy at the sight of every single creature God brings to life. Then, without warning, I was plopped into a broken world, and life immediately began re-creating me into the person God no longer recognized. And the angels fell silent.
Through life, I too (metaphorically), “have been stabbed, shot, poisoned, frozen, hung, electrocuted, and burned”. First, by a mother God entrusted with my care who was mean and abusive. Later, by my own attempts to simply survive in my brokenness.
My focus was not on living with joy, and the fullness of life promised to me. My focus became a matter of enduring the next worst thing, like Phil waking up every day in a world that never changed. Everything this Original Creation was supposed to be, became unrecognizable.
Like Phil, I tried to end my pain too. I didn’t have a groundhog strapped to my steering wheel, and it wasn’t on railroad tracks. Instead, it was me drunk in my little MG on the highway, praying that I would crash and die. Phil’s reaction when his attempt to kill himself failed was, “Ah, nuts.” Mine was the same. I think my exact words were, “Great! I can’t even do this right!” I remember getting out of bed the next morning and going off to work: same empty life, different day.
Over the years, since that not-so-fatal day, much has happened. God has continued to work in my life, considering my incessant resistance to the death of my own will. We have been through so much together! When I think about what he has managed to accomplish in this continual wrestling match, it has been nothing short of a miracle!
After Phil described his torture, he exclaimed that there was “not a scratch on me”. I couldn’t say that, but I did think that “not a scratch on me” meant that on the outside no one ever noticed what a mess my life was. Considering that has made me, and God, very sad.
But luckily, God isn’t a quitter and doesn’t give up on us. As long as that is true, I’m always hopeful for a new beginning. I know God is ever so gently loosening my white-knuckled grip on my stubborn self-will and shining an uncomfortable light on my lack of humility.
Of course, as is God’s mysterious way, and because I have been in total denial of my lack of humility, I am confronted almost daily with examples of “Who do you think you’re kidding, Linda?”
I had to sit with that and realize the truth of my whining and whaling and lashing out at anyone who has pushed my ever so fragile buttons. It came from many years of always being on the defensive. And, if I’m listening, I hear God say, “Humility…Linda. Let’s give it another try.”
Here’s what God has been showing me in the process of mediation, prayer, and experiences that provide the litmus test of how I’m doing. I think it’s some pretty awesome stuff.
What I believe has set this entire process in motion began years ago with my hospice training and work with dying patients. You get a much different perspective on life when you sit with the dying.
When I began my work with Hospice, I made it a practice to tell people I was a “volunteer chaplain” – I had to get it in, and technically it was true enough because of my past schooling and training. But, I was ever so profoundly admonished by God. He rolled his eyes and repeatedly shook his head at my need to pump up my false self.
Then, the more I sat with dying patients, the more I realized how little it mattered. No one ever said, “Thank you for being a chaplain.” They said, “Thank you for coming.” That’s all. They thanked me for my presence, not any vast wisdom or knowledge I thought I possessed and they needed to hear.
They were dying; they couldn’t have cared less about my degrees or accomplishments. I witnessed what was really important to those with so little time to fool with ego, pride, and self-centeredness.
This should be a powerful lesson for anyone who thinks that God does not want to be deeply involved in our lives. It has happened too often for me to believe otherwise. Now, if I can just get out of his way, perhaps humility is not impossible – even for me.
I hope and pray that I will continually strive to surrender to God’s Love and be the empty vessel he desires.
We are all called to love, to have faith and trust and hope, to be filled with joy and peace, and humility, which underlies it all. None of this is remotely possible if it is not born of a heart filled with awe and wonder at God’s magnificence, power, and glory. None of it!
Consider Matthew 3:13-17, “Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan to be baptized by him. John tried to prevent him, saying, “I need to be baptized by you, yet you are coming to me?”
There is a whole bunch of humility going on there! John the Baptist never felt worthy “to tie Jesus’ sandals (Mark 1:7)”. How often are we willing to decrease so Jesus can increase?And think of Jesus himself allowing John to baptize him. He wasn’t a sinner and didn’t need to be baptized. Yet he humbled himself before everyone to lead the way to his Father.
Reading that Scripture was like a one-two punch. No, God doesn’t punch, but I’m telling you, he flicks! I have been flicked often enough to know. And it hurts. Because he’s not flicking my head, he’s flicking my heart!
When we go our own way, we obey the parts of God’s command that are easy and discard the parts that don’t appeal to us: Love your neighbor – check, love your enemy – scratch – is it any wonder God hates that? Are we putting forth an image of ourselves – more importantly – an image of God that others can use to justify their own sinfulness?
I want to say that I have finally conquered this one, but I know better, and I’m pretty sure there will be another lesson tomorrow…
and the day after that…
and the day after that!
It’s funny; the Scripture verses here are not new to me. “HOLY COW, I never knew God felt so strongly about THAT!” – Liar! It has just been an inconvenient truth, demanding something I have not been willing to submit to. I pray that is all changing. The power of humility lies within each one of us. We have no excuse to believe or act otherwise.
Some day you’re going to apologize to your neighbor (who hates you, by the way, for other reasons) for backing over his cat and blaming it on the mail carrier.
Some day your humdrum existence will magically transform into the fairy tale life you have always dreamed of.
Some day you will hit the lottery and buy your neighbor a new cat. Okay, you won’t do that because you’ll move to a deserted island where you won’t have any neighbors.
If you believe one morning you’ll wake up and your butt will have fallen off as you slept – that’s right – you’re delusional. (You might want to lay off the chocolate darlin’)
Wanna know where I’m at as I write this and why my thoughts went where they did? I am sitting with a dying hospice patient. I’ll call him Fred. I can’t show you a picture of him for obvious reasons, but I can show you a picture of the wall I’m staring at in his room. It’s 2:30 am, and I have been staring at this wall for two hours.
I don’t know if Fred has any family, but no one visits him. He was in the final stages of Alzheimer’s disease when I first met him, so we were never able to communicate. I have no idea what he did for a living, but for now, he is my teacher, like all the patients I see.
I know what you’re thinking. How could someone who has lost the ability to respond to their environment or converse with anyone teach you anything? How could they impart words of wisdom like Mahatma Gandhi, shine a light on injustice like Martin Luther King, or inspire Jesus’ call to “serve the least of these” like Mother Theresa? Well, they can’t….
They can sometimes do more – at least for me – at this moment.
When I meet a new patient, I first look at the pictures in their room. Some, like my dear mother-in-law, have their walls and shelves cluttered with family pictures. They make for great conversation. But here’s my buddy Fred with four blank walls.
What am I supposed to do with that? I have discovered that that is the wrong question. The real question is – what is God wanting to teach me here?
It is no coincidence that at this very time, I am reading a most profound book by Kathleen Dowling Singh, “The Grace in Dying”.
So, what am I finally learning at this late stage in my life? What I have grown to believe from Gandhi, King, and Mother Theresa, has been personified by Singh and Fred.
Singh’s book moves from words on a page to experience that reaches the depth of my heart as I sit here with a dying man. I have grown to appreciate that this is Holy Ground and that God is truly present here.
I sense that God is trying to tell me during these times to review my own life. He calls out to anyone with ears to hear, “You’re gonna die too. Maybe even today. So, get your act together!”
Because I have a warped brain (DUH! Surely you know that by now), I had to laugh because that reminder sent me to this cartoon. It’s a Hallmark card.
At this stage in life, considering priorities is surely in order, don’t you think? Can we stop obsessing over things that don’t…actually,never did...matter? Stop dwelling on old hurts, lost opportunities, and someone else’s expectations? Stop striving for more and more of what someone else will trash before you’re cold in your grave? Stop trying to control everything? Stop shadowboxing? Donate those skinny jeans that will likely NEVER fit you again (geeezzzzz)?
Singh tells us, “When we are deeply aware of our own impermanence, every fleeting moment is recognized as precious. Our desire to be present in each moment amplifies. Meditating on death instantly calls us to question on the deepest of levels. What am I doing? What do I want? What does this all mean?
Contemplating our own mortality…our precariously impermanent existence can call us to complete and thorough accountability. It can call us to instant reordering, a rearranging of our priorities and our intentions. It blocks off all of our habitual detours into denial.”
The bare walls in Fred’s room don’t tell me anything about Fred, but they signify two realities for me: (1) To ask honestly if my life has been empty and void of significance. (2) God always offers us a clean slate – to begin again if I have failed to fulfill my purpose.
Thank you, Fred. In your dying, you are teaching me how to truly live while there is still breath in me.
Now, go in peace…I pray…into the hands of our loving and merciful God.
Many people use, and believe the expression, “the patience of Job”. Actually, Job was not a patient man. Perhaps a bit more patient than his lovely wife who told him to “Curse God and die!”– And his so-called friends who insisted God had exposed him for his wickedness. Their accusations had no limits:
Eliphaz, like most people in Jesus’ time, believed suffering was a direct result of sin; that suffering exposes you to God’s wrath – you’re busted! Sadly, many people still believe that.
Eliphax tells Job that he suffers at the hand of God because “those who plow iniquity and sow trouble reap the same”. (Job 4:7-8)
Bildad chimes in, “God has rejected you because you’re evil!” (8:20). Ouch!
And, of course, not to be outdone by the others, Zophar annihilates any sense of worth Job may be clinging to, “You’re a damn fool! Waxing poetic nonsense like you can dupe everyone, even God. Are you crazy?! We’re going to hang out here until God decides to give you a piece of his mind. And he will. You watch. If you weren’t such an idiot you would reach out to God while you still have breath in you!” (Job 11-14). Honestly, that’s all in there. Okay, I might have taken some license with it.
So, would “patient” be the appropriate verb for Job? After all, he admits, “I am not at ease, nor am I quiet; I have no rest; but trouble comes” (Job 3:26). I do, however, believe Job endured more hardships than most of us could possibly imagine. So, let’s give him that.
Then, there was God, who was eerily quiet until He came storming out of the whirlwind (38:1-40:2) into Job’s broken heart, revealing His power and majesty. And what was Job’s response? How could it have been anything other than “what shall I answer You? I lay my hand over my mouth” (40:4). And later, “Therefore I have uttered what I did not understand, things too wonderful for me, which I did not know” (42:3).
I think we could also give Job credit for finally surrendering to God even in the midst of his suffering; even though he still had no idea why God allowed him to suffer such pain and loss. God owed him no explanation, and Job no longer questioned him. Good call, Job!
As for me? How long have I been questioning God? Forever, I think. Questioning often grew into whining and whining into mistrust until I felt I would never know the deep faith I so longed for. I was too afraid and too busy trying to control my own destiny. I talked about surrender and wrote about surrender, but felt my hypocrisy would one day be exposed because I wasn’t living it. Easy enough for me to tell you to surrender your life to God! Go on now. You’ll be fine. Honest.
In all fairness to my fragile ego, in two of the major events in my life: writing a book and going to graduate school, I did get the first part of God’s calling right, “Go”. The problem was my need to second-guess Him; to run ahead of Him. But let’s go back to where it all began.
God said to me one day, out of the clear blue, “Write a book.” Long story short, it was a work in progress for ten years: written, rewritten, and self-published twice. Writing the book was the part of God’s call I listened to and accepted.
The part I added later went something like this: “I’ve just written a book! Since this came from you, Lord, I can only assume it’s going to be on the New York Times best-seller list! WOW! I can’t wait!” When that didn’t happen, I began to grow weary of God failing to meet my expectations and started to whine and complain again, “God, why did you have me write this book? There have been so many mistakes made in the process. You knew I didn’t know what I was doing. So, why? Why? Why? Why?” Those incessant questions were born out of my feeble attempt to control the process and the outcome.
The next chapter begins with a friend asking me to speak at her church. I muttered a few words in God’s direction, “Lord, if you are now calling me to speak, even though this is also something I never would have imagined doing, then I will do it.” I enrolled in a Speakers Training Workshop and had promotional DVDs made and mailed to everyone I could imagine would care. I was offered a few opportunities to speak, and although I was extremely nervous – actually scared to death – they went well, and the feedback was positive.
Wait, don’t leave! There’s more! In 2006, I was approached by my pastor to consider a program that would entail studies for a graduate degree in Pastoral Care (I still have the laugh lines from that one!). Seriously, I was nine credit hours short of an Associate’s Degree from a community college, and this was a graduate program! Right! To appease my pastor, I completed the application forms, certain they would not accept me.
When the letter came I confidently opened it. My assumed rejection began with “We are pleased to inform you…” Wait, that’s not nice! You are pleased to tell me what I already know – I’m a loser? However, the letter went on to say they had accepted me.
“Oh shit!” That’s what I said. Those two words usually only come out in extreme circumstances like a car coming at me head-on, being stuck in a burning building, or having Robert Redford knock on my door and I’m in my bathrobe and curlers. (Yes, I’m that old!).
So…“OH SHIT!”
An impossible and immutable reality was staring me in the face, and again, I was scared to death! But I went, frightened and uncertain, and graduated in 2009. Glory be to God – well, and to Linda, who, after one semester of preaching classes and a head full of myself, determined that I would probably become the female Billy Graham on the preacher’s circuit. But, alas, more dashed dreams of fame.
I was supposed to move right from graduation to a position as a Pastoral Associate in my comfortable little church. Yep, you guessed it, that’s not what happened. After three grueling years of studies, I was told that the position was not available due to a lack of funding. It was during the 2008 recession.
So, there I sat in my pile of poopy dreams and unfulfilled aspirations as an imminent writer, speaker, preacher, and/or Pastoral Associate faded into oblivion.
For three years, I have been bellyaching to God just like Job. And then it happened. God’s preferred method of attention-getting for me is a 2×4. While driving down the highway, minding my own business – from out of nowhere – WHACK!
God: “Are you paying attention, Linda?”
Me: “I am now!”
Suddenly, I was pummeled by God, or at least that’s how it felt, with a review of the course of events that had transpired. Here’s a chronology of those events:
My book is the story of how God reached into my pain and suffering at the hands of others and my own sinfulness and spoke healing into my brokenness. He used the process of writing the book and the opportunities I had to speak to continue that healing, which in turn, has helped others who have shared their own experiences with me.
Graduate school was really, really, REALLY a struggle for me. Writing graduate-level papers and reading the works of theologians like Thomas Aquinas and Bernard Lonergan made my head explode! I was anxious for most of those three years. I felt inadequate at best and downright stupid at worst.
Academically, I felt I was not on the level of most of the other students – always looking over my shoulder and waiting for someone to show me the door. I got some of it and forgot most of it, yet somehow, in the process, I grew spiritually in ways I could never have imagined.
One of my last classes dealt with the foundations of ministry. I remember my professor telling me at the end of the semester that I had a simple way of approaching ministry that would serve me well. He was telling me that I didn’t need to feel incompetent because I couldn’t put together a string of theological thoughts that would rival the best in the field. But I didn’t understand or appreciate his words at the time.
Just before graduation, I asked my pastor, “Do I still have a job when I get out of here?” He replied matter-of-factly, “No.” I was shocked! He stated that because of the economy, they could not afford to hire an Associate. I was devastated and shaken to my foundation. Fear got the best of me. If I was going to apply for a position in a different church, how would I fare in the interview process? Even though I had a 3.7 GPA, I had little confidence in my abilities, especially since I knew there would be lots of applicants and very few positions available. Oh yeah, and I was old.
Do you see how God has moved in my life over all these years? I didn’t until that fateful trip in my car last week when all of these events and situations came flooding into my head – then my heart. And, just as with Job, God spoke:
Linda, Linda, Linda, what am I going to do with you?! I called you to write a book, to do some speaking, and to go to graduate school. Who told you you were going to be a famous writer, speaker, or preacher?! Much of the time, you ran off on your own without waiting on Me, without even consulting me. You had it all figured out and then when it didn’t happen the way you planned it, you came complaining to Me. My time is not your time; my ways are not your ways. It’s about obedience and trust, Linda. I think you are finally ready to hear that.
Why, according to your timing, has it taken so long?It was important for you to feel the pain of the loss and suffering of your past and to go through your own healing process before you could enter the sacred space of others who suffer. This is Holy Ground that I am asking you to step into. You were not ready before.
Somehow you have managed to move in the direction I have called you. You’ve made it an uphill climb, but you have been falling forward, so that’s progress! I placed the desires in you before you were born, and I have set in place My plan for you and long to bring it to completion. If you will just get out of my way!
A few days after the Holy Whacking in my car, I received a Daily Meditation from Richard Rohr. Quite appropriate, I think, “All of Jesus’ guidance for ministry…are very concrete and interpersonal. They are all about putting people in touch with specific people, especially with people’s pain. Person-to-person is the way the Gospel was originally communicated. Person-in-love-with-person, person-respecting-person, person-forgiving-person, person-touching-person, person-crying-with-person, person-hugging-person: that’s where the Divine Presence is so beautifully revealed.”
What a dunce I was, “Therefore I have uttered what I did not understand, things too wonderful for me, which I did not know” (Job 42:3). I pray I have finally learned to wait on God and know His plan for me is perfect; to trust His infinite wisdom more than my finite and feeble efforts to do things my own way.
And the saga continues…
I would like to conclude with a quote from Glennon Doyle that sums up where I’m at right now and where I hope to stay till the end.
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!
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.
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.
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.
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.
I know so many people, and I’ll bet you do too, perhaps even you, who just can’t believe God has a plan for them. Over the years, I have encountered people who don’t believe me when I tell them my story. “Oh, really?! God told you to do that, huh? Right!”
To be honest, I wouldn’t have believed it myself if He hadn’t gradually brought me to a place where I could trust Him even if I was fearful and had no idea what He was up to.
For years, there were little promptings that, in hindsight, proved to me that He was on the job (Romans 8:28). Then, bigger ones that required more trust, offered way more grace than I deserved, and opened my heart more than I could have imagined.
God always longed to grow me into the person He meant for me to be. It was me resisting, not being present to Him, and missing the mystery and majesty that surrounded me because I was just too busy to notice or, more likely, too afraid. Instead, I skipped along, trying to drown out His voice, “Lalalalalalalala, I can’t hear you!”
Even what I have called God’s 2×4 moments didn’t leave marks like the ones my mother inflicted. Because of her, I was always on guard for those “laying down the law” whacks that I expected from God, too, when I messed up. But, I believe He more often speaks through Spirit – whispers of pure grace.
We can be so enmeshed in and blinded by the things of this world we miss out on our whole purpose for being here. If you are going through life day after unremarkable day, schlepping through the same routine ad nauseum – STOP IT! Your life has a purpose. You matter that much!
We are all called to holiness, to use the gifts and talents already given us for God’s kingdom work right here – right now. It just takes awareness on our part. (I would highly recommend Anthony DeMello’s book by the same name, Awareness).
Leo Tolstoy’s novel, “The Death of Ivan Ilyich,” is considered a masterpiece. It was written after his “profound spiritual awakening” and conversion experience. While lying on his deathbed, Ilyich ruminated about the reality that his entire life was superficial and self-serving, and he profoundly stated, “Maybe I didn’t live as I should have done!”
In the end, he posited a question that Tolstoy must have pondered himself, “What if I really have been wrong in the way I’ve lived my whole life, my conscious life?” Oops, a little late, buddy!
“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”Gian Carlo Menotti
It was too late for Ilyich, but not Tolstoy. He discovered his purpose and rejected his aristocratic life to follow Jesus’ teachings – particularly the Sermon on the Mount. Years later, his writings also profoundly impacted Mahatma Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr., and countless others.
Soooooo, what are you waiting for? You must still be breathing, or you wouldn’t be reading this. That’s a start. Incredibly, no matter how you lived your life to this point, it’s not too late to begin again. New beginnings are God’s specialty! He has proven that through the lives of every misfit, from Moses to this ole grandma.
To infinity and beyond! God coined that phrase, you know. Don’t believe me? HUMPH! Check out Ephesians 3:20, “Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us.”
Alrighty then, you’re pumped and ready to go, right? You’re packing your sandals and camel hair coat and checking Google Maps… for what? A sign from God?
Stop! Take a deep breath. Maybe start by sitting quietly with God and waiting.
Don’t look to anyone to give you a formula or a checklist to send you on your way to sainthood. But I will tell you this: You cannot love and serve others, which is our greatest calling, until you can love yourself. And you can’t love yourself using any of the myriad self-help books on the market.
You can only do that by growing in the knowledge that you are deeply and passionately loved first by the God who created you! And you can only do that by being in relationship with Him, which requires your time.
You are His son/daughter with whom He is well-pleased (Matthew 17:5). Let that sink in. We are deeply loved sinners. It’s high time we act like it, don’t you think?
.Absolutely, go to church, take the time to read scripture, and pray, But mostly...LISTEN! Geeeezzzzz, we’re so bad at listening.
PASSION, PURPOSE & POOPYHEADS 
