A Voice of Hope

The Most Important vs. The Not-So-Important

Where do we draw the line on publicly memorializing the dead, or whom do we memorialize? How do we choose who's honored and who's not?

My friends KatRose and Marti have brought up some very solid, valid points in their comments about public grieving. I thought to address them in the comment section, but felt they deserve a post of their own.

KatRose hits the core of what I've been thinking when she says,

I'm not suggesting we shouldn't feel for the people directly and indirectly involved. But is it justified to have a national moment of silence for the dead when the vast majority of us have never been to VT, met a single student or even were aware of the college until this happened? I feel badly for the families and friends of the dead. I feel awful that the school has to deal with the emotional, mental and financial aftermath of this gunman's handiwork. But is flying flags at half-mast (which was happening all over Vegas and LA this week), something that should be done for a localized event?

I have to say I heartily agree. I feel so sad for all involved too. But what was the deal with President Bush ordering flags to be at half staff all week? At first I thought it was just my company, because one of our own had a child wounded in the shooting (and that shows you how much I notice flags outside my own work campus). I thought it was a kind gesture, even though that co-employee lives in Virginia. However, on Friday I noticed the flag at the Post Office also flying at half staff. Shouldn't that be reserved for dignitaries, veterans, soldiers and true heroes?

I don't mean to make light of the students who died or were wounded, but I've yet to hear any stories of true heroism among them. Most just didn't have the time to react, or were just trying desperately to escape. What's happening in Iraq and Afghanistan every single day, that's heroism. Soldiers going into dangerous neighborhoods in order to root out the enemy and restore peace, driving down dangerous roads littered with road-side bombs in order to provide a fighting chance for those who really desire democracy, and crawling into burning vehicles, risking their very lives to save the life of just one fallen comrade. The VT shootings are tragic, yes, but they are not so tragic nor heroic to warrant our national symbol lowered to the mourning position. if we're going to do it for them, then why not all the other school violence? Domestic violence every day? Every officer killed in the line of duty every day? Do you see what I mean? Lowering our national flag is supposed to mark a significant national loss, not individual tragedies. 

Indeed, even soldiers are wondering what's going on. One soldier took the time to write an opinion piece questioning why Bush would order the flags lowered for students of what now looks for all the world like a random act of violence done by a very sick individual, but states will not lower it for the soldiers from their state who die protecting our rights to freedom (and flag lowering) every single day. What gives?

Marti brings up another issue that's even closer to my heart: people who are hurting, and our international mission/purpose as a Community of followers of Jesus.

...at a church retreat this weekend they had us read out the names of the kids who died. Thirty-some senseless deaths... but are they more tragic than others? I felt the same twinge I'd felt at the office, trying to decide if we needed to pray about the Virginia situation, instead, when I had prepared stuff for us to pray about regarding the significant religious persecution going on in Ethiopia and Nigeria; more believers have been martyred in both places recently. (emphasis mine)

A church has daily updates on the kid with cancer while nobody notices the old woman wasting away in depression. Or worse, bitterness. Not so cuddly.

So: what gets attention, what does not, is not fair, is not even.

What is it that causes us to be more moved by students killed in a random act of violence than the thousands killed purposely and specifically because of their religious beliefs? The former is just tragic, while the latter is an abomination that ought to stir some semblance of righteous anger within us. Hopefully enough to do something.

Church, what is it about us/in us that we  are more apt to pray for a boy with cancer than search for, pray for and walk beside the bitter woman struggling with depression? Why are we more apt to pray for people hurting in another state than we are for our own persecuted brothers and sisters in another country?

What are we reminding ourselves of when we "read out the names of the kids who died"? What purpose does that serve, really? Yeah, okay, God can use anything to bring our attention back to Himself. But It seems to me all we're doing with that is reminding ourselves of our own mortality, rather than turning our attention toward God. Shouldn't we, instead, be reminding ourselves of our responsibilities before God to the world? Look, I'm not talking about America here. At least not in the America The Nation sense. I'm talking about followers of Christ who by living here in America have been given incredible blessings from God when He determined this time and this place in history for us to be born.

"From one man he made every nation of men, that they should inhabit the whole earth; and he determined the times set for them and the exact places where they should live. God did this so that men would seek him and perhaps reach out for him and find him, though he is not far from each one of us."  Acts 17:26-27 (emphasis mine)

We, the community of followers of Jesus in the US, have been chosen and determined by God to be Americans at this very time. Appointed by God, ya'll! That's huge! Do you get it? He. Chose. Us. Why? Beats the hell outa me. We ain't nothing special. But here we are. And with great privilege and blessing comes great responsibility.

We have responsibility to speak out about the suffering of our brothers and sisters around the world, to remind each other daily of our blessings and of their need, to do something about it and to pray fervently and continuously for them. It may sound like a piddly, weak-hearted thing, but sometimes the greatest gift you could give someone is your fervent continual prayers. I cannot explain to you how it works - and this post is not the place to try - but I know from experience that prayer really does unleash God's healing redeeming saving power on those who are the focus of your prayer.

We don't need to remind each other of our own mortality. That is made far too obvious to all of us in the everyday minutia of our lives. It is so easy for me to get so sucked into picking lint out of my own navel! I don't need encouragement from my spiritual Family to do more of that. What I do need is continual reminders that there is life outside Lu's Little World. I need to step into a moment like the one Marti led and hear about my fellow followers of Jesus who are dying because of their unwavering commitment to Him.

And lets step out of religiosity for a moment... I need to be reminded there are children dying every day in Sudan, running for their very lives and praying for just one night of peaceful uninterrupted sleep. There are whole families dying from lack of food and potable water in Ethiopia and Somalia, ethnic groups persecuted and oppressed in China, parents fearing for their lives and the lives of their children in war-ravaged Iraq, innocent people dying in suicide bombings all over the world, women bought sold and horribly abused as sex slaves in Thailand, survivors of the tsunami still struggling to survive in Indonesia, families still living in squaller in New Orleans nearly two years after Katrina... The list goes on and on. I need to be reminded of these things. I need someone to tell me to get my head out of my ass and pay attention to the world, otherwise I will spend the rest of my life contemplating my own colon. And let me tell you, that is not a beautiful, life-affirming, God-honoring thing.

It's part of the job of Leadership to steer us, focus us, on the Most Important and teach us by example and prodding to let go of the Not So Important. When someone is hurting, to them that is Most Important, and often they feel it needs to be most important to everyone. Indeed, to others around them it rightly ought to be. But as a whole community, whether we speak of our national community or our spiritual community, that individual hurt may not be The Most Important. We need leaders who can discern what is Most Important and can gently but firmly, with compassion for the individual hurts, keep us focused on that. Bush used to be that kind of leader. I think he slipped up here.

But Marti --- well in you, my friend and once-leader, I have such great faith and confidence. You are a discerning and wise leader. Grief may cloud your personal vision right now, but God guides you even when you aren't aware. I have no doubt you were able to determine His desire for that moment, and that God honored your willingness to wrestle with the question of what is Most Important.

For Me

I grew up in church. I heard all the Bible stories while still in the womb. By the time I was old enough to know my ABCs I also knew that Easter was when we celebrated Jesus' crucifixion and resurrection. Still, my Easters were filled with coloring hard-boiled eggs, eating large chocolate bunnies and egg hunts in a neighbor's yard. Pretty much your average minister-kid's Easter. As an adult, Easter was still filled with baskets of candy and big family dinners, but I graduated from egg-hunter to egg-hider. Otherwise, all else was the same. I sang joyous songs and celebrated Jesus' death and resurrection. And I praised and thanked Him for saving all of us from eternity in hell and to an Abundant Life.

Then my parents died. Holidays are never the same after someone you love dies. I hid for the first three years, going to church only because either I had to serve, or it was expected. This Easter, however, slapped me in the face a few weeks ago and awoke me to the fact that I didn't have a connection to this particular holiday anymore. Sure, I know the "reason for the season," to borrow a phrase from Christmas (I'm sure it won't mind) but that reason no longer resonates deep in my heart. Maybe it never really did, I don't know any more.

I recently discovered I'm not alone in my sense of disconnection and that got me to wondering how many people plaster on smiles on Easter Sunday and lift up their hands in hollow praise in some vain attempt to convince themselves they feel the joy of Easter. ---Yeah, maybe my drama queen nature is overstating that a bit... but I wonder...

Today I struggled with the decision to go to church. At first I decided I wasn't going, because really didn't want to go. But then I chose to go. My reason may sound odd to some. I chose to go because I love Jesus and I felt that He would want me to go to a celebration of Him. As I went I asked Him to help me connect to the meaning of this day in my heart, not just in my head.

The music made me cry -- no it wasn't because it was bad, sheesh ya'll! -- It struck something deep within me that's still resonating in my soul like a tuning fork. The songs weren't anything special, just worship songs but something just kept ringing inside. Jeff's sermon was very good, but there was no "ah-ha!" moment and I began to despair that I would never feel the joy others seem to have for this holiday. I felt overwhelmed as I sat listening to the worship team sing "I know my Redeemer lives...."

That's when I felt Him touch me. I'd heard Him talking to me all morning; little things like "I'm still here." "Do you want to go?" and stuff. But as I sat there, head bowed, He came and knelt beside me, wrapped His arms around me and began telling me how He'd seen me in that moment, sitting there crying, when He was on the cross. "Your face was before me throughout it all. The stings of the whips digging into me, the long walk carrying the cross, the nails and the hanging there. All that time I saw you. I saw your life. I saw all those moments you struggled, that you were in pain, that you cried out in desperation for someone to save you from the things that were crushing you." He was as close to my ear as I thought anyone or anything could get, holding me close. I could practically feel His breath on my ear as He spoke. "I saw you. I saw your heart. I saw all of you. And you are the reason I did all that, why I endured all that. I got through it by seeing your face and knowing what it would do for you. I did it for you. Just you. Because I love you."

I started to protest, to point out that there were other people there in that theater that He died for too, and that in fact needed Him more than I did and that I didn't want to---that I knew I shouldn't "hog" His time. He told me, "forget about everyone else. That's none of your concern. I'm here with you. This is our time. You and me. This is about you. I did all this for you. Just for you."

I don't understand that kind of love. Oh, I can understand Jesus dying for YOU. Or for all of us. But for me alone? Me all by myself? As an individual? No. I don't deserve that kind of love. I don't even know if I really believe in that kind of love. And maybe that's why I'm having such a hard time with this. I cannot believe anyone would love me this way. I don't do anything in my life, ever to deserve it. Even as a follower of Jesus, I screw up on a daily basis and do stuff I know is wrong, that hurts Jesus, for no other reason than because I want to. Why in the world would anyone go through all that bloody agony and death just for me??? No one would. Because I'm not worth it.

Yet Jesus persists and insists He did. He keeps saying He did it all just for me. Just for me.

Maybe I'm confusing the Good Friday feelings with Easter, but I can't help it. I don't feel that joy that I saw most everyone else display  today. I feel overwhelmed. I cannot stop crying whenever I think about my morning with Jesus and what He said to me. Maybe some day I'll be able to have real joy over all this. Right now I'm just too blown away by it all to bounce off the walls. I can only sit in wonder, and cry, that someone would go through all that just for me.

Like a Stupid Bug

I came across this post the other day while surfing the NiT aggregator and laughed because I know the bugs the author was talking about. I'd never seen them before moving to the South, but they are indeed the stupidest bugs on the planet. Or at least in the South. They come out with Spring and spend most nights throughout spring and summer banging themselves silly on whatever around them shines the brightest, desperate to "go into the light". Maybe they've watched Ghost Whisperer a few too many times.

The night after reading that post I saw heard one of these bugs desperately slamming itself against my rain-drainpipe. Poor thing must have gone blind looking at the motion light right next to it and mistook the shiny-ness of the drain for his into-the-light opportunity. I walked into my house laughing, still hearing the incessant bzzz-clunk!-bzzz-clunk! Stupid Bug indeed.

Today a thought smacked me in the face as hard as that Stupid Bug hit the drainpipe. Maybe I'm just like that bug.

Go with me here for a moment. I'm thinking as I type, always a dangerous thing I know, and we could very well end up way off in the tall grass instead of the playground. But I can't help wonder if perhaps I really am more like those Stupid Bugs than I want to admit. I keep banging into something shiny thinking it's my moment to finally step into the light, only to be thwarted by some stinkin' metallic thing, or worse, by hot glass that not only forever separates me from my goal but burns me badly in the process.

Kat recently reminded me I am not alone. She took offense at me saying that God is all I have. It wasn't meant as an offense, nor had I forgotten her friendship, or that of many others in my life. Rather, it is a true admission that everything else in my life will one day leave me. Kat, you will one day die, my friend, as painful and ugly a thought that is to both of us - and if I am still alive, you will leave me behind. Everything and everyone else in my life is the same. They will all one day die and leave me. God is the only thing in my life that will never leave, never die, never walk away. When all else is gone, He will still remain. When all else fails me, He will not. For a girl with serious abandonment issues, this is a truth too good to believe.

So instead of basking in that truth, reveling in it and celebrating it, I spend my days banging away at false lights, determined to go into them, no matter the cost. When they elude me, as they always will, I get frustrated and kick my legs in the air like some petulant two-year-old in the midst of a tantrum. Its only when I've exhausted myself and lie there on my back, panting, too tired to move anymore, that I am able to hear God's whispers of Truth. "I am the One True Light." "I will never leave you nor forsake you." "You are mine and I love you."

I didn't go to church today. I was exhausted from another round of banging away at the light. This time it wasn't Purpose I madly flew toward, but something else entirely that would take a whole 'nother post to explain, so I won't go there. But the effect was the same. Exhausted, on my back, legs flailing like a Stupid Bug. I could have pushed through the exhaustion and gone to church anyway, as I've done for other things important to me. But I just... didn't. Instead, I slept.

When I finally came enough awake to recognize hunger and went in search of food, I fully expected to hear the stern Voice of God berating me for "forsaking the assembly". I certainly felt like a sinner for staying in bed, so why shouldn't He see me as one? Surely He would have harsh words for me, a supposedly "mature" follower, stubbornly staying in bed with the covers over my head instead of facing the world head-on.

He didn't. His voice was sweet, His touch gentle, His words soothing. He wrapped me in love and spoke of never leaving me, never condemning me, always loving me, always being "for" me, even when I run from the very life He's giving me.  He asked me questions, nudging me to go deeper into the dark things in my heart and life that scare me into hiding or into frantic slamming against false light. And even when I was too scared to go any further, He stayed, still enveloping me and whispering His love.

I don't know what Stupid Bugs do during the daylight. I don't recall ever seeing them except at night. But I have to wonder if they try to fly into the sun the same way they try to fly into my porch lights or if they just bask in its warmth and ever-present light. Perhaps its the loss of the the sunlight that makes them crazy and brings on the frantic desperation to get into whatever available light they find.

Maybe that's my problem. Even though God is ever-present, there are dark things that can block out His light like an eclipse and make life go as dark as darkest midnight. When I lose sight of Him I go a little crazy and frantically look for another source of light, any light. When I find it, I slam the hell out of it in desperation, until I exhaust myself, or daylight returns.

I know there is way out of this cycle. And someday I will trust God enough to live through the dark nights without getting frantic or desperate for false light. But in the meantime, His grace covers me, even when I choose to sleep instead of "do church".

My grace is enough; it's all you need.
My strength comes into its own in your weakness. -- God

God's Chew Toy

It seems my last post started a few people thinking. Among them is Larry, my always intelligent, curious, warrior-hearted dear friend. He has a way of taking the things I mean as sarcastic slams at my current "lot in life" (and often passive-aggressively at God) and turning them into positive images of God's love. How does he do that??

Larry took my rant, drenched it in God-focus and came out with this:

Still, we're all chew toys to someone or something. God is completely serious about making us able to live in His kingdom.[...]  We bear God's toothmarks in direct relationship to how much we let him love us, and I suppose that starts with learning how much we need his love. Sometimes finding and picking up that stray sheep isn't a gentle process. I'm convinced that God makes it as gentle as possible, but I hang on to my old deadly ideas with a death grip that only loosens with time and experience. Maybe it's God's saliva dripping over me that dissolves the old ways of living and seeing and thinking. (emphasis mine)

I know it sounds crazy, but I like the idea of bearing God's teethmarks. It's kind of like bearing His imprint, having His fingerprints all over my life, except with a long-lasting mark (fingerprints can be wiped off, after all). They aren't like the open wounds from an angry dog, but they do leave punctures in my soul. I know ultimately it's a good thing;  it means He's making me into something new. I just wish His teeth weren't so sharp.

I realize they have to be that way to fend off attackers and soul-stealers. I've seen God bare those sharp babies at my enemies. It's truly a beautiful sight to behold. I remember reading somewhere that God just starts to get up from His throne and Satan and his minions scatter like roaches when the lights come on. If He can cause evil to tremble and hide without even baring His sharp teeth, think of how much more He accomplishes in protecting us when He does.

Yet for all my talk of embracing the idea of bearing God's teethmarks, I'm still fighting against the reality that I'm His personal chew toy. I guess everyone wants to believe they were created for a noble purpose. I'm no different. Being gnawed and slobbered on till I'm like soggy rawhide just doesn't sound lofty to me at all. Yet, when I view it through Larry's eyes, I can see its exaltation.

This is the core of our preaching. Say the welcoming word to God—"Jesus is my Master"—embracing, body and soul, God's work of doing in us what he did in raising Jesus from the dead. That's it. You're not "doing" anything; you're simply calling out to God, trusting him to do it for you. That's salvation. With your whole being you embrace God setting things right, and then you say it, right out loud: "God has set everything right between him and me!" -- Romans 10:8-10 The Message

What I'm getting at, friends, is that you should simply keep on doing what you've done from the beginning. When I was living among you, you lived in responsive obedience. Now that I'm separated from you, keep it up. Better yet, redouble your efforts. Be energetic in your life of salvation, reverent and sensitive before God. That energy is God's energy, an energy deep within you, God himself willing and working at what will give him the most pleasure. -- Phil 2:12-13 The Message

Purpose

I don't think I get it yet. I don't think I've connected yet with what this whole Abundant Life thing is all about.

I keep getting confused. I keep thinking it's all about doing something. Whether its great or small doesn't matter. Its just about doing something. But that doesn't seem to be God's intention for me.

Oh, I'm doing stuff. I've been so buried in school work lately that I've barely had time to think. And I've also got work and church stuff and friends...

I'm talking about the Big Mission Thing; that big Purpose for living thing that most people seem to have (or is that just my imagination?). You know, that thing that grabs you and holds you in its grip and says, "you must see me through to the end. Only you can do it!" with so much intensity that you cannot refuse. I hear people talk about it all the time. About how this one thing took hold of them and they had-had-had to see it done. Or how they've dreamed about a particular thing all their lives and just couldn't rest until they'd accomplished that.

I have no such cause, no such dreams, no such... anything. I've always wanted one. Just one, I'm not selfish. I don't need a bunch. I just wanted one powerful, compelling all-consuming Mission to overtake me and drive me down a path of radical change for the world around me. But I never got it, never had it. Not even one.

I just have life. And God. And that's it.

He keeps asking me why that's not enough. Why He's not enough for me.

I don't have an answer. At least not one that makes sense. I mean, how do you tell the God of all creation, the Alpha and Omega, the God who's so compassionate and gracious that He gave His own life so that I could live without condemnation, how do you tell Him that He's not enough?

That's why I say I don't think I get it yet. God seems to want me to just Be, to just rest in Him and be who He's transforming me into, while everything in me screams that I must Do; that doing is the only thing that makes life worth living. "Without the doing, what's the point??? I can 'Be' in heaven. Why leave me here??"

God doesn't answer that question, except to say, "for My good pleasure."

Great. I'm some chew-toy for God? That's nice.

For those of you newbies just stopping in, this may seem disrespectful. I assure you, I have the greatest respect for God. I once heard Beth Moore describe agape love as "high regard or esteem". That's an over-simplified paraphrase of her 45-minutes on the subject, but it serves my purpose here. I do hold God in the highest regard/esteem. He is my life. He is my Beloved. He is all I have.

Perhaps that's part of my struggle. It scares me out of my mind to put all my hope and trust in one place. Its not.... it's not "safe".

But I'm not meaning disrespect with my chew-toy comment. I'm just pissed off that God won't give me what I ask for. And God seems to know that I will eventually come back and sit with Him, ready to talk about it again.

This is an on-going battle I have with God, this need for Purpose beyond just "Being". And I suppose, like Jonah, I'll be stuck in this particular whale belly until I can truly surrender to it. I'm trying. This weekend I again wrestled with God over it all, with neither of us giving an inch. I'm just not ready to surrender yet to something that makes no sense to me at all. I just don't get it yet.

There Are Times....

...when I just feel like this...

Know what I mean?

Grace Defined -- a.k.a. Drenched

For now we are looking in a mirror that gives only a dim (blurred) reflection [of reality as in a riddle or enigma], but then [when perfection comes] we shall see in reality and face to face! Now I know in part (imperfectly), but then I shall know and understand fully and clearly, even in the same manner as I have been fully and clearly known and understood [by God]. -- 1 Cor. 13:12

I think most people have the same problem I do when it comes to understanding grace.  We don't get it. It's an enigma, a riddle. We just can't seem to wrap our minds around it. We just know it is.

I've been thinking a lot about this lately, and realizing more and more just how lavishly God drenches me with His grace. And just how unworthy of it I am. I realized grace is so much more than the definition of "unmerited favor" I grew up hearing. That description was inadequate for me as a child, and it didn't get any better as I grew up.  I'm such a visual person. I needed a picture -- or at least a word picture -- to help me understand.

So I asked God for help. What I got, originally, was experience. God lavishing me with it, and then telling me, "that's My Grace."  Uh, okay. How do I put that into words??

Thank God He puts people wiser and more knowledgeable than me in my life! My counselor has a word picture that helped me finally understand what grace is.  And then I stumbled across this web page that had the following definition, which puts that word picture into narrative form:

Protestants usually define grace as "God's unmerited favor towards us in Christ". Though not incorrect, this definition is incomplete, for grace also includes the divine gifts which flow from this favor, such as our new life in Christ, God's indwelling Presence and the ability to bear spiritual fruit.

Sacred Scripture says that grace is Jesus' Incarnation (2 Corinthians 8:9), by which He took on our poor human nature in order to fill us with the "riches" of grace (Ephesians 1:6). Grace is more than mere divine favor, it is sufficient power in our weakness (2 Co 12:8), it strengthens us (Hebrews 13:9; 2 Timothy 2:1), enables us to stand firm (Romans 5:2; 1 Peter 5:12), and helps us in time of need (He 4:16).

The Bible also states that grace is manifold (1 Pt 4:10), that God lavishes "grace upon grace" on us in Jesus Christ (Jn 1:16; Eph 1:7), and that we can "grow in grace" (2 Pt 3:18). It even says that our words can give grace to those who hear them (Eph 4:29), for our edifying words can draw others to God.

Finally, grace is the Beatific Vision of the Trinity which we will enjoy for eternity when Our Lord returns (I Pt 1:13; Eph 2:7).

Barney's word picture is essentially the same. He just takes less time to say it, and usually draws on the dry erase board as he talks. I guess he's rubbed off on me, 'cause now I'm re-creating his drawings (or drawrings, if you're British) in Illustrator.   Perhaps we've taken this re-parenting thing too far....  Okay, back to the discussion. What I learned from Barney goes basically like this:

In Scripture we learn that God is Love. We can't think of that description without thinking of Jesus. And we can't think of Jesus without remembering the Cross, the ultimate demonstration of love. The Cross brings, or rather bought, our redemption from sin and death. Our redemption leads us into Abundant Life. All of that is Grace.

As grace begins to work in our lives we begin to grasp all we've been given, it brings us to our knees in humility and repentance.  We realize we aren't worthy of any of it. That brings us back to God. But it not only reconciles us to God, but gives us compassion and understanding for others, as grace opens our eyes to their brokenness, and to their beauty as God's dearly loved children, Jesus' beloved bride.

As with Hope, I think the modern Church, and especially our 20th century cultural Christianity, stripped grace of its complexity and grittiness. Not out of malice or deliberate deception, but rather out of ignorance.  Grace isn't soft and cuddly, or ethereal and fragile. It's the robust, earthy, dynamic, powerful, tenacious, never-ending stuff of God. It can take on my ego, and take me down to my knees, then immediately oh-so-gently pick me up and lay me in the Father's lap. It can tear apart my stubborn legalistic tendencies, then envelope and permeate my whole being.  It's where my capacity to forgive, to love, to have compassion comes from. Its what gives me the ability to weep and ache to the depths of my soul over the pain others experience. It opens my eyes to the humanity of the people around me, so that I no longer see a mean "monster" when I'm betrayed or hurt. Rather, I see a broken, hurting soul just as much in need of God's forgiveness  and redemption as me. Grace gives me God's eyes to see the beauty and image of God in even the most irascible, unlovely person. I can't do those things on my own. I have to have God's grace to do it. And the more I embrace and own the grace God lavishes on me, the more grace I have to give to others.  --Perhaps that's what the Bible refers to as "growing in grace".

Me, I just call it being drenched.

Does that make sense?

What is Grace?

I've been thinking about this for a while now, and I'm wondering if anyone out there has an opinion.

What is grace, exactly?
When the Bible talks about grace, what is it talking about, what does it look like and how does it work?
What Scriptures helped you best get a picture of what it is?

I have some ideas, and I've been doing a study on this lately. But I want to know what others think. So if you have an opinion, please speak up. Comments are open 24/7 for your convenience. :)

UPDATE: I've written my definition of Grace in this post. Please check it out.

Defaming in the name of Christ?

May the God who gives endurance and encouragement give you a spirit of unity among yourselves as you follow Christ Jesus, so that with one heart and mouth you may glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. -- Romans 15:5-6

I came across a blog today that grieves and saddens me. I've seen its kind before. Someone, or a group of someones, hurt by the actions of a brother or sister in Christ, or a church staff, or a group within the church, puts up a blog to air their grievances and give others a chance to do the same in the comments section.  Once or twice, these become a place where healing is the goal and bitterness does not go unchecked. But more often than not, these blogs end up as nothing more than a place of condemnation for the pastor or staff member at fault for the pain.  It becomes a chance for anyone hurt by that person or group of people to defame them under the pretense of "telling their story." Sadly, the blog I found this morning is the latter kind.

I know the pain of emotional and spiritual injury at the hands of another, especially injury caused by a friend. Its sting carries venom powerful and deadly. Only the compassionate, gracious, all-consuming love of God can heal that kind of wound and restore health to the soul.  Even then it leaves a scar.

Emotional/spiritual injury by a pastor can be worse. A friend of mine says that pastors are also a "dad" to their church.  It's not a role they want, or seek. Nor is it a role we consciously put upon them. Its just that we all naturally end up looking to our pastor to fill a father-like role in our lives; leading, guiding, counseling, loving, appreciating, paying attention to us, knowing us. We want to be known by our pastors, and recognized as valuable, valued and worthy of love. All the things we want from our fathers. When a pastor doesn't live up to that expectation, unconscious or not, especially in a time of need, it feels like the worst kind of betrayal, that of a parent.  If we're already suffering from major "daddy issues", and most of us are, that betrayal can cut to the heart of who we are and devastate us.

When the injury is at the hands of a friend who's also our pastor, the pain is unimaginable. This is what I found this morning.  What grieves me most about it is that it involves people I know, respect, and love deeply.  I discovered it because I keep getting multiple hits on this blog from people Googling the blog author's name and finding it here, in a post from two years ago.  As I read the ensuing comments, the vitriolic tone of many pierced my heart to its core. I knew there had been hurt, I lived through the experiences they described, but it didn't occur to me that some six to ten years later people would still be carrying around such rancor over it all.

Forgiveness is the hardest thing on earth to do. Our souls long for retribution, for repayment for all the pain we've had to endure.  I know. I'm the worst when it comes to forgiving. God has had to walk with me through each and every injury, sometimes carrying me, in order for my heart to finally let go and forgive.

It's important to remember that forgiveness is a process. It's a choice you make. And make. And make again. Until the hurt and anger lessens, your heart stops making an automatic left turn into dark places, and your thoughts stop running down avenues of revenge. It doesn't happen overnight. And it often doesn't even happen within a month.  Depending on the level of pain inflicted and the measure of trust that had been placed in the person who hurt you, it could be years before forgiveness truly flourishes.

Matthew 18 spells out the steps Jesus expects us to take to resolve things when we are injured, the last step being to treat the offending brother as if he were an unbeliever if he refuses to listen to even the church's rebuke. How many of us actually go through with these steps? How many times to we just give up and just walk away from the relationship when the hurt and anger grows too big for us to handle? I know I'm guilty. Its just easier to tell ourselves, and anyone else who'll listen, how horrible the other person was and how grievously they wronged us, rather than to screw our courage to the sticking place, and go face-to-face with the other person for as long as it takes us to understand their side of the story. No, it's easier to just cling to our own side and ignore the rest; to never confront the person in the presence of fair-minded witnesses, if we even confront them at all.

But what Matthew 18 never tells us to do is to air our grievances before the world; in the town square, or the main boulevard, or even in a city park.  Yet here we are, blogs all over the virtual town square/boulevard known as the Internets, airing grievances of brother-in-Christ against brother-in-Christ. Defaming our brothers and sister in the name of Christ and claiming a Matthew 18 mandate to do so.

Yikes!  No wonder so many reject the very idea of becoming a follower of Jesus. We eat our own.

"To be a Christian means to forgive the inexcusable, because God has forgiven the inexcusable in you." C.S. Lewis 

Go ahead and be angry. You do well to be angry—but don't use your anger as fuel for revenge. And don't stay angry. Don't go to bed angry. Don't give the Devil that kind of foothold in your life...  Make a clean break with all cutting, backbiting, profane talk. Be gentle with one another, sensitive. Forgive one another as quickly and thoroughly as God in Christ forgave you. -- Eph 3:26-27,31-32

All Little Girls Have Daddy Issues

But now, O Jacob, listen to the Lord who created you. O Israel, the one who formed you says, “Do not be afraid, for I have ransomed you. I have called you by name; you are mine.... Others were given in exchange for you.  I traded their lives for yours because you are precious to me.  You are honored, and I love you." -- Isaiah 43:1,4

The conversation is all too familiar. You'd think by now I'd know how it ends. But I never seem to remember. I guess I just get too locked up in my own fear to see anything beyond my own nose. And sometimes even that's obscured.

It starts with a vague feeling of unease. My need to control, or at least to know what's happening, translates that feeling into a reason: "I must be uneasy because ______." All that is left is for my mind to fill in the blank with any number of possible causes. It picks the easiest, or perhaps just the most familiar. And thus our conversation begins.

I cry out in fear, worry quickly turning to panic. God quietly listens. Finally I fall silent, frustrated with His quietness, taking ragged breaths into my panic-ridden body. But my own silence is short-lived. I cannot stop the thoughts now. They are like a runaway train on a downhill slope. How in the world will I ever survive?  Why am I here? What's the point of living?  Life is so fragile. The balance of life is too hard to manage. I cannot do this! God, Help me!

Finally I stop to listen, to look Jesus in the eyes, imploring Him to speak. Softly He caresses my face. After a long moment, He quietly says, "Do you trust Me?"

The tears burn in my eyes and spill down over my cheeks. My heart is heavy, so heavy. I know what the "right" answer is, but I can't lie. Not to Him. I shake my head. "No." The truth is, I don't trust Him. I want to. At least I think I do. But right now, I don't.

Everything in me wages a fierce war against the very idea of trusting God to take care of me, to provide for my needs. Especially my upbringing. My father taught me well. Oh, with words and sermons and scripture references he said to trust God, but with actions, attitudes and behavior he taught me to be self-sufficient, to rely more on my own abilities and resources than on unseen forces and to stock-pile, stock-pile, stock-pile.  Like all little girls, I live to please my daddy. I live for his approval. Problem is, its hard to approve from the grave.

I wish I had a different set of daddy issues. Heavenly ones. I wish I could say I spend my days longing for my Heavenly Abba's approval; that I live to please my Heavenly Father. I'm trying to, I really am. But old habits die hard. Very hard. Perhaps someday I'll be able to say I do. But right now, right now I struggle with the old tapes, the old patterns of life long ingrained in the depths of my being.

Jesus repeats His question, softly, gently, "Do you trust Me?" And He holds out His hand. In order to take hold of it, I'm going to have to let go of something...

I'm trying. God knows I'm trying.