That Sweet Spot Destination (and a little bit of Goldilocks & the 3 Bears)

Many things cause disorientation. Standing up too fast, spinning happy in a circle, vertigo from sickness. Once blindfolded and spun around for pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey, one stumbles, disorientated, toward the stuffed pinata and hopes to strike the sweet spot.

As Christians, what is our sweet spot? What is our direction, the spot we must aim for?

Having spent a lifetime with different therapists, I get stuck on concepts like self-esteem, self-confidence, independence - all excellent ways of reaching one's naval-gazing quota. I do not knock therapy; it does many people a ton of good. In my life, however, I think I had an overdose.

While reading all those self-help and life coaching books for years, searching for that meaning of life that seemed more and more elusive, I came to a great amount of peace when I chose God as my North Star, that fixed point in my life.

I've been aimed toward Him for a little over two years now and, while I can't say it's always been easy, I can say it is a lot more comforting and assuring. I don't feel so dizzy and when I do find myself flailing in life,  I re-orientate myself to God, the destination of my heart.

But I do stumble, as all of us do. I sometimes fall back into the blindfold of believing I'm in control of this messy life and that I can fix it. I look in back of me, behind at my past failings, traumas, dramas, losses, and I mourn all that has happened. I sit in the muck and sink. I fall back to naval-gazing, that default of so many years.

After a while I do shake my head - hard - and see that arm reaching down to me, offering to help me up if I would just choose the Helper. And so I let God raise me to new life day in and day out and redirect me. A difficult lesson each time. I chuckle as I realize it must not be all that fun for the Teacher, either.

But there is a certain amount of danger in always looking backward.

First of all, we miss what is coming ahead of us. What would happen if we kept our eyes on God when things became difficult instead of resorting to old coping mechanisms? What would happen if we put all our dependence and need on Him instead of worrying obsessively about our provisions not being met? What kind of life would that be? It feels unfathomable to imagine, but I know God wants that for us.

Secondly, by focusing on our past we remain fixated on what has already happened instead of what can or will happen. We remain closed to possibility and change.

Worst of all, at least to me, we miss what God has in store for us and how God can redeem that which we hoard and hide.

Perhaps we ought to do a bit more head-shaking? Wake-up out of the fog? Re-orientating ourselves toward God, in front of us, always ready to lead us if we should choose to follow. And God does ask us to follow.

My sweet spot is Jesus.

I run to Him when I get lost, when I need help, when I want joy and comfort.

And I try not to look back too often, just enough to remember where I came from. Because just as our destination is important...our origin is important as well. 

How could we appreciate a delicious chocolate cake without realizing it was first a bunch of separate ingredients that had to be crafted together to make the mouth-watering result? So with our very lives, how can we appreciate what God has done, currently, if we do not remember from whence we came?

So there must be a sort of balance, a bit of Goldilocks-and-the-Three-Bears going on. A bit of this and a bit of that. Not too much one way, just enough for good perspective and the Hope we all crave.

Redemption asks us to remember, but remember with eyes on Jesus.

Because we didn't rise out of the muck and the mire,

God pulled us out and formed our lives to glorify Him.

And that is mighty, mighty sweet.

The Paradox of the Season

Husband's birthday is today - on Good Friday.

It's been interesting, this paradox. Celebrating the man I love's birthday on the day I remember Christ dying.

Last night, at the end of the Maundy Thursday service, they ceremoniously stripped the altar as Pastor sang, in the same haunting melody as Ash Wednesday's Psalm 51, Psalm 22. And the ladies in prim and beautiful dresses, white gloves on their hands especially for this, took the candles, the cup and plate we had just used for the Lord's Supper, the altar cloths - they took everything off as the sanctuary lights turned off.  A firm lump rose in my throat and tears rolled down.

It has now begun, I felt deep in my bones. We enter the space of suffering and sadness and the why's and how-did-this-happen's. We hear Jesus' words, "Remember me" and as Good Friday fades to evening we think about him beseeching his Father, "My God, why have You forsaken me?"

Yesterday as I stood around the enormous cross which stands on a neighbor's land here in town, hand-in-hand with other believers wanting to usher God into the moment, wanting to thank God for the gift of His Son, wanting to pray for the church and everyone on this earth, I looked up as the sun shone on the stained wood, the two nails holding the pieces together - large nails - and I realized I had never been this close to such a cross. I could feel its pulse. I could feel its story of the Cross long ago.

The Pastor who led the prayer mentioned something that threw me for a headspin. He said that no one has ever or will ever suffer as much as Jesus did on that cross. Things certainly fell into perspective.

I love Good Friday because it gives me time to truly reflect on all Christ has done for me.

If I had it my way I'd have the entire day to just sit in the sun and read God's Word and journal and sing.

As it turns out, God had different plans for me this Good Friday.

I tried to make Husband's Good Friday Birthday an enjoyable one. I managed to handle the squabbles between 9 yr old Miss G and 6 yr old Mr. A. - they are getting at each other's throats more and more. I did not yell at all; I chose grace over anger.

Husband came home to presents and streamers. We had a good time.

Then the kids went off in different directions and I sat down to blog.

And in that time, while Husband takes a much-deserved nap, Miss G and Mr. A have come in three times declaring war and tattling on each other.

I have handled it all, so far, without yelling.

Then Miss G, who is ripening in opinions and attitude, announces that she can't help but hit her brother; she just gets so mad that she can't control it.

Oh, we've been through this before, child. I've been teaching you an emotional vocabulary since I met you at age four and a half. I gave you that Dora squeezie ball back then to hold when anger filled you to the brim and then we transitioned to a feelings poster and now, here we are in present day, with me asking you about your day and you releasing emotion after emotion.

So how did we get to today - how, apparently, it is okay for you to wallop your brother because you can't control it and oh, I just don't understand it and you just can't explain it, and you spin around in a huff and scream at me.

My heart pierces and I feel a sharp ache. I'm losing my little girl.

I calmly tell her that she has every ability to control her anger. She knows this. But she will not believe it. She sees her sister making excuses and falling into the victim time and time again and I worry for all of them, all of these kids who have seen such trauma and such suffering and I wonder if I can ever lead them to Jesus which makes me think

maybe Jesus needs to lead them to Jesus. 

I tell Miss G that I love her and I know she knows, though it's hard, she can choose not to hit or fight.

And I leave her room because I can see it is getting to be information-overload and I close the door behind her, feeling her seething anger, hearing the bursts of tears beginning.

And I can't do much but pray.

I want this Good Friday to be good.

I want our family to love each other and for us to get along.

Can't they see that?

Don't they know what this day means? What Christ did for them?

There is grace for them, I hear in my head. And I call you to show them such grace.

Oh God, it is so hard. I want to yell instead of love. I want to cry instead of pray.

But it is in my control, isn't it. Praying instead of crying. Loving instead of yelling. Just like she can choose not to hit I can choose not to sink into despair.

Hold me up, Lord. I've been pondering how we can hold you up on the cross; I think, secretly, I've been wondering if there could have been anything we could have done to save you from such suffering.

But I remember you are God-Man and you chose this, you knew this would happen. It is written...

You have not asked me to save you, Lord. Do I really think that? Is that why Good Friday pierces me so much this year? How mistaken I am.

You have called me to serve others. You've called me to serve these children. And I try, Lord, I try.

So what if it is about the paradox? A birthday on Christ's death day. Teaching her not to yell when I want to scream in despair. Running to you and proclaiming my need of you the day when you were nailed to the worst death imaginable.

This season is all paradox, upside-down. Then again, so is the Kingdom of God.

We are called to love the least of us; taught that you loved us when we were yet sinners; picked up time and time again if we just call out to you.

The paradox of this season is not lost on me.

The hard which can hurt can be the biggest blessing.

But the blessing might not come right away.

Miss G won't walk out of her room and tell me, "I get it now. Thank you so much for explaining it. I understand and I love you so much for leading me to the Lord."

Mr. A won't open his door with a big smile and say, "whining and tattling is so beyond me."

Miss A, the eldest, won't walk upstairs and hug me with tears, thanking me for loving her despite her hating me.

The hard which can hurt and then turn blessing-like might come years later - or even wait until eternity in Heaven.

What I know, Lord, is that you watch us all. You promise each of us eternal life in return for giving our life to you. And for all that you've done - in life and in death - how you conquered death - how you gave us hope in the darkest hours - after all that you've done, I'm going to take your paradox and hold it in my hand, drink from it like a pool of living water, and keep on moving through this life.

Once again, I seem to be living this stuff out so much more than in years past. It gets harder, but I know, because of you, Lord, I grow stronger.

An 8-Year-Old's First Bible Study

Last night, Stepdaughter8, who I will call Miss G for storytelling's sake, asked me a whole bunch of very good and deep questions about God.

I chuckled because I did the very same thing to my mother when she would put me to bed: My questions were more psychological and worldly and not related to God (I didn't grow up knowing much about God). However, I have very fond memories of sitting on my mother's bed at bedtime and having what I called our "11:00 Psychology Talk." I did this as a preteen and teenager, not so much as an eight-year-old. At that age I was repeatedly asking Mom for a glass of water so she'd come back to my room for another kiss goodnight.

I swear Miss G has to come from my DNA, though, because the girl knows how to ask really good and deep questions. Already, we are no strangers to staying up a bit too late talking about "life stuff." To my delight, she has many questions about God that a child would have. Unfortunately, I can't spend the time I'd like to talking with her about it because it is bedtime, after all. I always promise myself to pick the conversation back up the next day...

but life usually gets in the way.

(But what life are you really living if you are too busy to talk about God?)

So back to last night: Miss G asked such good questions that I didn't want to "busy" myself out of them. I told her that we would talk about it the next day and, sure enough, right before bedtime we gathered at the kitchen table, she in her cotton, floor-length penguin nightgown, Bible in hand (the one given to her by our church) and questions ready to go.

One thing about Miss G is that she likes to talk. She is not always the best listener. And one thing about me is that when I talk I don't really know when to conclude. I usually make my point in circles.

So to focus us both, I made a list of four questions that Miss G came up with that we would try to tackle. This is what she came up with:

1. Why do they say "fear God?" Does it mean we ought to be afraid of Him?

2. Why does God have to stay up in the sky?

3. How did God never sin?

4. How was Jesus born?

Oh my goodness! Just looking at that list sent my head spinning. I asked her leading questions about #4 to see what all she knew about how babies are made in general...and decided that that question could wait a bit.

We talked about #2 first: Why does God have to stay up in the sky?

Slight diversion: my stepmother, when asked, told me that when I give my stepkids answers to tough questions, I am to be clear, concise, and to the point. I am to be as brief as possible. I hear this works.

Sadly, I do not work that way. Or maybe not so sad...because I think my stepkids are learning a greater vocabulary thanks to me. Either that or they are learning to be completely stumped by my strange metaphors, poetic and passionate language, and circular points.

Anyway, I gave her a succinct answer to #2:

God does not have to stay up in the sky, I said.

We talked about what Heaven was...we looked in her concordance...looked up verses that talked about Heaven...we talked about God's dwelling place....

but also how God is among us all the time. We talked how we can see God working in other people and ourselves - in how we love, trust, believe, serve, and act.

I know that is a hard concept for her to grasp. She wants to think of God as a person, asking how God was born...

we got sidetracked a bunch of times.

The second question we tackled was #1: Why do they say "fear God" in the Bible? Does that mean that we should be afraid of him?

I referenced biblegateway and looked up the word "fear" and all its meanings. Sure enough, I was able to explain it pretty simply. To fear, in a God-sense, means to respect, to show reverence for God.

Then I said something that wasn't on the docket. I knew it could go over her head...and perhaps it did...but I wanted her to start hearing it now because it is something I strongly believe.

I explained how we learn when we are young that God is all about love and forgiveness and joy. And yes, God is all those things. God blesses us with unimaginable gifts. However, I explained carefully, we ought to realize that we must also respect God and follow God's rules for our lives. God knows what is best for us. He is the Ultimate Parent - even more important than me and Daddy, I told Miss G. And while it is so important to know that God loves us, it is just as important to know that we have a responsibility to God to live our lives under His direction the best we can.

Sometimes you have to tell the truth even if it uses big words and grand ideas. 

In talking about respect, I asked Miss G: "how can you show respect for God?"

Her answer amazed me.

"By reading the Bible," she started. "And...going to church...and praying...every day...praying when you are sad or mad or when someone is mean to you or when you need something..."

I chuckled.

And then she said, "and you have to trust Him."

I stopped in my tracks.

I felt the Holy Spirit fill the room and I felt God whisper to me: take this opportunity.

I swallowed hard, prayed quickly for wisdom and guidance....

"All the things you said are great things," I told Miss G. "God certainly wants us to read the Bible, go to church, and pray every day."

She smiled, pleased that she had said the right answers.

"But what you said at the end....that is the most important, biggest, hugest, most gigantic thing of all."

Her eyes got big and curious.

"Because think about it," I said. "If you didn't trust God...and that includes loving Him...if you didn't trust that God was all-powerful and mighty and loving and all the things we know, would you want to go to church and read the Bible and pray every day?"

She was starting to catch on, but I knew I had to elaborate.

"If you thought the Bible was just a storybook, a fairy tale, just another cool book that parents read to kids at bedtime...would that make you realize how awesome God is? And then make you do all those things you listed before?"

She shook her head no.

We matched smiles and I continued: "It is so important to decide to love and trust God because then reading the Bible and going to church and praying will spring forth from that! It will be so much easier and more fun because you trust and believe."


It was getting late so I decided to end our lesson for tonight. I told her what "closing in prayer" meant and she joined me in thanking God for giving us this opportunity to talk together; I thanked God for giving Miss G a heart full of great questions and I asked God to continue to give Miss G strength to ask those questions, no matter what. I also prayed for Miss G as school would start soon and she would meet people who didn't share her beliefs. I prayed that Miss G would be strong in her love and trust in God and love those who were mean and to pray for them.

I could have gone on and on. I could have talked circles about loving, trusting, believing in God.

But I knew my little inquisitive 8-year-old girl had to get to bed.

And so I tucked her in, hugged, and kissed her goodnight.

I feel a glow inside me as I write this. I don't feel prideful or think, what a great stepmom I am. 

Rather, I think, what a great God we have!

I am so grateful that Miss G is who she is and I am who I am and God placed us together "for a time such as this" (Esther 4:14).

I am so honored by the role God has given me. Of course, I carry doubt and worry that I am not "qualified" to teach God's Word...that I don't know "enough..."

But God does not require us to have a PhD in Divinity Studies for us to share and teach about Him.

He asks us to love, trust, and obey Him.

And I think I did that tonight.

More importantly, with God's wisdom and guidance, I think I paved the way for a little girl to do just that..

****note: I realize that many could argue with the answers I gave Miss G. However, I feel I gave her the best answers for her maturity level that I could. Thank you for grace. ****