My last blog stirred up some debate about whether or not prideful people experience God's discipline. I'd like to tell you why I think God is not just a warm and fuzzy, everybody's-going-to-heaven kind of god. I'd also like to explain why I think he's not just a horrible, punishing, angry god who zaps everyone with lightning bolts over every tiny infraction.
I believe that God is more like a well-balanced tire than a lopsided feather comforter with all of the stuffing shoved to one end. The Bible clearly tells us about God's character.
According to Wayne Grudem, who wrote Systematic Theology, God is an invisible, spiritual being who knows all things, has the wisdom to choose what is best for his children, and speaks only the truth in all matters. (Read John 4:24, John 1:18, I John 3:20 Job 12:13, and John 17:3 if you don't believe Grudem or me about God's character.)
Wayne Grudem explains that God's ten moral attributes include:
l) goodness (Luke 18:19),
2) love (I John 4:8),
3) mercy (Psalm 103:8),
4) grace (I Peter 5:10),
5) patience (Romans 2:4),
6) holiness (Isaiah 6:3),
7) peace (I Corinthians 14:33),
8) righteousness (Deuteronomy 32:4),
9) justice (Isaiah 45:19), and
10) jealousy (Exodus 20:5).
We all like it when God pours out his goodness, love, grace, mercy, and patience on us. I am very thankful that out of his great love and mercy, God sent his Son to die for my sins so that I don't have to spend eternity in hell, experiencing painful punishments for all of the wrong things I have done. But to believe that these warm and fuzzy traits make up the full extent of God's character is wrong. Giving him only these five attributes makes him very lopsided.
We must look closely at the last five moral attributes of God, too. If we believe that he knows all things and brings about what is best for us, we must accept the fact that our jealous God, who is holy, peace-loving, and righteous, cannot allow his children to behave outside of his boundaries of justice. He disciplines his children, just as we here on earth discipline our own children.
Because God loves us, he holds us to a very high standard: we are to take on those same ten attributes listed above. This is an incredibly high bar that has been set for us. Jesus was perfection in flesh. Of course, it will take lots of discipline to form us into beings who resemble Christ!
God's jealousy does not allow him to watch us chasing after something temporal here on earth, all the while ignoring him. He will discipline us to bring us back into a love relationship with him. His jealousy is not the negative sort that we think of between humans. It stems from his desire to watch over us and protect us from sinning.
Sometimes, we see people sinning over and over and over. There are times when they get caught. When we see sinners receiving punishment through the legal system or other means that God allows, we feel vindicated. We rejoice when God's righteousness results in justice. This is natural, because we are made in the image of God, who cannot tolerate sin.
There are also instances when it looks as if evil people are getting away with murder. They twist our legal system and slip out through looopholes in the law. We wonder where God is and why he doesn't do something.
God's character demands justice in our world, and because we are made in his likeness, we expect justice, too. Just because it looks as if someone is getting away with sin doesn't mean that God isn't seeing everything and working out a plan to restore that person to him. It might take plenty of love, goodness, grace, patience, and mercy on God's part, but you can be sure that he'll bring about holiness, justice, peace, and righteousness in the end through his jealous love.
There are other times when we watch people living faithfully according to God's Word, and terrible things happen to them. We wonder why God didn't stop the tragedies. We must remember, that just because we believe in Jesus and get baptized does not mean that God will take away all of our troubles. On the contrary, becoming a Christian frequently means that God turns up the heat of his refining fire.
It is not 'unChristian' for us to rejoice when sinners find themselves on the receving end of God's justice, provided that we are happy that they now have an opportunity to turn their lives over to Christ. If, on the other hand, we cheer because someone who has hurt us got punished, and we continue to watch for opportunities to gloat about their suffering, then we are merely expressing our vindictive side.
We are commanded, above all else, to love one another. If I truly love others, I will do my best to jealously guard their souls from sin, just as God does. I often pray that God will teach me how to use gentle words, love, mercy, goodness, grace, and patience when restoring a fellow believer to a right relationship with God.
I apologize if I gave any reader the impression in my last blog that I thought my surgeon deserved to lose her daughter over a waterfall in Hawaii after the doctor mistreated me. The child's drowning was a horrible tragedy that I wouldn't wish on anyone. However, I was trying to point out that the loss of that child may have been God's only course of action to bring that surgeon back into a right relationship with him. I thought that perhaps in losing her own child, God was trying to teach that surgeon how to have empathy for other women, like me, whose babies died.
I don't know if this is why God allowed this loss or not. I was only surmising in order to make a point. But I do understand God's character, and it would not be consistent with his character to simply allow that surgeon to continue to mistreat her patients with such a calloused heart. God will do whatever it takes to bring us into a love relationship with him and with one another...even if it sometimes entails breaking our hearts.
Sometimes, God must break our hearts to get our attention. He does not do this out of meanness or from willy-nilly actions of anger. He knows what is best for us, and if it means disciplining us, that's what he will do.
I pray that God will shower me with his warm and fuzzy feelings of goodness, love, mercy, grace, and patience. But I also pray that he will discipline me, as needed, to bring about holiness, peace, righteousness, justice, and love-inspired jealousy for others in me.
Speaking up when someone like my surgeon hurts me, and praying for her hardened heart to be broken, is one way that I can express God's love-inspired jealousy for her. Confronting her may be difficult, but the interaction may create an opportunity for her to turn her heart over to the Lord.
God is not a lopsided, warm and fuzzy guy who is issuing certificates of eternal life to all people upon their deaths. He is a strong, well-rounded, and balanced being who uses all of his attributes to make us balanced, well-rounded people, thoroughly prepared for eternity with him.
I am not a lopsided Christian who believes in a lopsided god. I do not believe in picking and choosing the parts of God's character that are appealing to me. I take into consideration the entire counsel of God's Word. And his Word tells me that he is the One and Only God of goodness, love, mercy, grace, and patience; as well as The One True God of holiness, righteousness, peace, justice, and jealousy. I embrace all facets of God's character, because in doing so, I have far greater opportunities to become more like him.
I do not believe in a lopsided God. Do you?
Monday, July 26, 2010
Thursday, July 8, 2010
God Opposes the Proud
My friend just brought me back from physical therapy on my knee and the follow-up visit with my surgeon. It was an interesting afternoon.
I have been assigned to the former manager of a physical therapy company who has suddenly found himself back in a staff position after the company closed his office on the other side of the city. He had a very positive attitude about this 'demotion,' and said with a smile that at least he didn't have to deal with bad employees anymore. I'd be willing to bet that his humble spirit and positive attitude will land him in a wonderful new position soon.
This therapist is so knowledgeable and patient. He has told me things about MS that I didn't know. For example, when a muscle is injured in a person with MS, it takes far longer to heal; and if the muscle is damaged severely, the MS patient will never fully recover the use of the muscle. He noticed my shoes and recommended different ones to help support my knees. He emphasized the importance of taking my recovery very slowly and gently. Everything in moderation was the mantra I heard from him. My neurologist has been begging me to slow down for years.
Before the visit to the surgeon's office, I wrote out all of the things I would like to say to him regarding his rude treatment during my recent hospital stay. I went over it with Joe and my friend. Both of them felt that the doctor would just close his ears to what I had to say. But I felt that I had to say it, nevertheless. Perhaps by speaking up, I might save another patient from being mistreated.
When the surgeon finished the exam, I asked if I could share something with him that might help him with other MS patients in the future. He said okay, and I told him that it really wigged me out to be told so bluntly that he would just have to send me to a nursing home since I couldn't walk.
He launched into a defensive argument about how he has built his entire practice on his mastery of psychology. He claims that he can analyze any patient within minutes of walking into a room, and he figured out that I was the type of person who was prone to be lazy; to let others wait on me hand and foot. He purposely said what he did about the nursing home to give me a 'kick in the butt' and scare me into moving my leg!
He continued by telling me that he is an expert in the treatment of MS, because he's been caring for his sister-in-law with MS for the past three years. He's read everything he can on the subject, and he knows that MS patients tend to become passive and expect others to do everything for them. (You probably could have heard the steam whistling out of my ears at this point!) He also claimed that MS patients have to be worked harder than ordinary people in order to get better.
He went on to say that he knew he might lose me as a patient, but it didn't matter. He said that some people are just never happy, even when you do a great job. And others are injured by his practice, but they still think he's the finest doctor on the planet.
When he took in a breath to continue, I said, "Well, you got me 100% wrong. I am not the type of person who enjoys being waited on. In fact, my friends usually have to tell me to quit over-doing it."
He said that he figured he had made me mad that day in the hospital by the look on my face, but he didn't care. He pointed at my knee and said, "Your knee's getting better. If making you mad is what it took, it doesn't matter."
I told him that I'm not the sort of person to go around telling the entire world about what he did just to get him into trouble. But I pointed out that he has a family counting on him, and the next MS patient he insults might not be quite as nice as I am.
Again, he simply said that he figured he might lose me as a patient, and he was okay with that.
I just sat there, dumb-founded. I couldn't think of another word to say.
My friend told me afterward that she would have quoted a very short verse of Scripture to him: "God opposes the proud, but gives grace to the humble." (James 4:6b)
We decided that we'd better start praying for this surgeon, because God needs to give him a wake-up call. The last surgeon who was this prideful with me lost her 3-year-old daughter a month later over a waterfall while on vacation in Hawaii. The child's body was never recovered.
This experience helped me to see that I am growing in my ability to speak up when things are not right. I stood up for myself and said what I needed to without crying, shaking, or getting angry. My surgeon's response was incredible, but predictable. I am asking God to help me forgive this man and for God to deal with the doctor in whatever way he feels is appropriate. Now, I can move on with my life, knowing that I did the right thing. What this doctor does with my feedback and God's reaction is another matter that is out of my hands.
I pray that encounters with prideful people like this surgeon will always serve to remind me that I, too, can be puffed up with arrogance. I hope that I will have the humility to listen when others tell me that I am in the wrong.
I have been assigned to the former manager of a physical therapy company who has suddenly found himself back in a staff position after the company closed his office on the other side of the city. He had a very positive attitude about this 'demotion,' and said with a smile that at least he didn't have to deal with bad employees anymore. I'd be willing to bet that his humble spirit and positive attitude will land him in a wonderful new position soon.
This therapist is so knowledgeable and patient. He has told me things about MS that I didn't know. For example, when a muscle is injured in a person with MS, it takes far longer to heal; and if the muscle is damaged severely, the MS patient will never fully recover the use of the muscle. He noticed my shoes and recommended different ones to help support my knees. He emphasized the importance of taking my recovery very slowly and gently. Everything in moderation was the mantra I heard from him. My neurologist has been begging me to slow down for years.
Before the visit to the surgeon's office, I wrote out all of the things I would like to say to him regarding his rude treatment during my recent hospital stay. I went over it with Joe and my friend. Both of them felt that the doctor would just close his ears to what I had to say. But I felt that I had to say it, nevertheless. Perhaps by speaking up, I might save another patient from being mistreated.
When the surgeon finished the exam, I asked if I could share something with him that might help him with other MS patients in the future. He said okay, and I told him that it really wigged me out to be told so bluntly that he would just have to send me to a nursing home since I couldn't walk.
He launched into a defensive argument about how he has built his entire practice on his mastery of psychology. He claims that he can analyze any patient within minutes of walking into a room, and he figured out that I was the type of person who was prone to be lazy; to let others wait on me hand and foot. He purposely said what he did about the nursing home to give me a 'kick in the butt' and scare me into moving my leg!
He continued by telling me that he is an expert in the treatment of MS, because he's been caring for his sister-in-law with MS for the past three years. He's read everything he can on the subject, and he knows that MS patients tend to become passive and expect others to do everything for them. (You probably could have heard the steam whistling out of my ears at this point!) He also claimed that MS patients have to be worked harder than ordinary people in order to get better.
He went on to say that he knew he might lose me as a patient, but it didn't matter. He said that some people are just never happy, even when you do a great job. And others are injured by his practice, but they still think he's the finest doctor on the planet.
When he took in a breath to continue, I said, "Well, you got me 100% wrong. I am not the type of person who enjoys being waited on. In fact, my friends usually have to tell me to quit over-doing it."
He said that he figured he had made me mad that day in the hospital by the look on my face, but he didn't care. He pointed at my knee and said, "Your knee's getting better. If making you mad is what it took, it doesn't matter."
I told him that I'm not the sort of person to go around telling the entire world about what he did just to get him into trouble. But I pointed out that he has a family counting on him, and the next MS patient he insults might not be quite as nice as I am.
Again, he simply said that he figured he might lose me as a patient, and he was okay with that.
I just sat there, dumb-founded. I couldn't think of another word to say.
My friend told me afterward that she would have quoted a very short verse of Scripture to him: "God opposes the proud, but gives grace to the humble." (James 4:6b)
We decided that we'd better start praying for this surgeon, because God needs to give him a wake-up call. The last surgeon who was this prideful with me lost her 3-year-old daughter a month later over a waterfall while on vacation in Hawaii. The child's body was never recovered.
This experience helped me to see that I am growing in my ability to speak up when things are not right. I stood up for myself and said what I needed to without crying, shaking, or getting angry. My surgeon's response was incredible, but predictable. I am asking God to help me forgive this man and for God to deal with the doctor in whatever way he feels is appropriate. Now, I can move on with my life, knowing that I did the right thing. What this doctor does with my feedback and God's reaction is another matter that is out of my hands.
I pray that encounters with prideful people like this surgeon will always serve to remind me that I, too, can be puffed up with arrogance. I hope that I will have the humility to listen when others tell me that I am in the wrong.
Monday, July 5, 2010
3 Days, 2 Nights
The outpatient surgery to repair my left knee went well, but the recovery has been a bit rough.
I got an all expense paid trip for 3 days and 2 nights to The Hospital, including continuous room service and all the opiates I could request while still conscious.
The anesthesia caused an MS exacerbation, and the staff had a little trouble figuring me out. Thank God for physical therapists who had encountered people like me in the past. When Nurse Ratchet insisted that she was not bringing me another bedpan and that I would walk to the bathroom, the therapist gave the insensitive nurse a piece of her mind. I gave her something she wouldn't forget for a while either.
My friend and soul sister, Deb, came one day to sing, "You Can't Make Me Go to Rehab" for the doctor who insisted that I needed to go to a nursing home. She also brought black and white 'voodoo Lego men.' We named them after the staff members and ripped their heads off before drowning them in mouthwash in the emesis basin.
My dear friend, Rhonda, came to sit with me for 9 hours one day, making sure that no one on staff pushed me around...other than in a wheelchair. She took me for a spin out to the lobby, where I was serenaded by the oldest volunteer violinist on the continent. While he hummed a few bars of old songs and then scratched them out one phrase at a time on his fiddle, his WWII sidekick who looked like Burgess Meredith made eyes at me. In my delauden stupor, I smiled and waved at him, marveling over the beautiful scene and treasuring it with so many other memories that were drug-induced during my stay.
I spent the 4th of July in bed with a new toy that was delivered by the home health care man. Just before dusk, my cherub of a husband stood beside the bed, offering me two big white pills and a glass of water. While he and our friends enjoyed the fireworks outside, I delighted in the continuous motion created by a contraption that simulates slow-motion bronco-busting, complete with lamb's wool chaps. I'm sure that the velcro restraints are what make this item such a big hit with invalids. Who can resist the thrill of being tied up?
The warning label on my bottle of pain killers says that the medication may cause constipation. Doctors who say that it's perfectly harmless to have a bowel movement just once a week are full of crap.
Coming back from a trip on opiates is a lot like returning home after a lovely Caribbean vacation. The sun just doesn't seem to shine as brightly, and the people around us don't seem as colorful. But there's always hope that I can go back someday. My right knee is beginning to feel a little stiff....
I got an all expense paid trip for 3 days and 2 nights to The Hospital, including continuous room service and all the opiates I could request while still conscious.
The anesthesia caused an MS exacerbation, and the staff had a little trouble figuring me out. Thank God for physical therapists who had encountered people like me in the past. When Nurse Ratchet insisted that she was not bringing me another bedpan and that I would walk to the bathroom, the therapist gave the insensitive nurse a piece of her mind. I gave her something she wouldn't forget for a while either.
My friend and soul sister, Deb, came one day to sing, "You Can't Make Me Go to Rehab" for the doctor who insisted that I needed to go to a nursing home. She also brought black and white 'voodoo Lego men.' We named them after the staff members and ripped their heads off before drowning them in mouthwash in the emesis basin.
My dear friend, Rhonda, came to sit with me for 9 hours one day, making sure that no one on staff pushed me around...other than in a wheelchair. She took me for a spin out to the lobby, where I was serenaded by the oldest volunteer violinist on the continent. While he hummed a few bars of old songs and then scratched them out one phrase at a time on his fiddle, his WWII sidekick who looked like Burgess Meredith made eyes at me. In my delauden stupor, I smiled and waved at him, marveling over the beautiful scene and treasuring it with so many other memories that were drug-induced during my stay.
I spent the 4th of July in bed with a new toy that was delivered by the home health care man. Just before dusk, my cherub of a husband stood beside the bed, offering me two big white pills and a glass of water. While he and our friends enjoyed the fireworks outside, I delighted in the continuous motion created by a contraption that simulates slow-motion bronco-busting, complete with lamb's wool chaps. I'm sure that the velcro restraints are what make this item such a big hit with invalids. Who can resist the thrill of being tied up?
The warning label on my bottle of pain killers says that the medication may cause constipation. Doctors who say that it's perfectly harmless to have a bowel movement just once a week are full of crap.
Coming back from a trip on opiates is a lot like returning home after a lovely Caribbean vacation. The sun just doesn't seem to shine as brightly, and the people around us don't seem as colorful. But there's always hope that I can go back someday. My right knee is beginning to feel a little stiff....
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
It Could Be Worse
As I prepare for knee surgery tomorrow, I am tempted to become agitated with the failings of our medical care here in America.
Because my doctor forgot to do an EKG on me during my pre-operative physical, I had to drive 90 minutes for a 3-minute test. With my knee in a brace. Leaning on a cane. Praying for relief from the pain.
I purchased post-operative pain killers at the pharmacy and discovered after I got home that the surgeon had prescribed something that I'm allergic to. I can't return the prescription drugs for a refund, and my insurance company has already been billed for their share.
Today, I must remind myself that it could be worse. At least I have health care. Many people in both third world countries and developed nations suffer with painful joints, poor eyesight, and countless diseases until they die. They have no hope for someone like my surgeon to cure them, either because it is unavailable or unaffordable.
I was once in Venezuela and watched a man collapse at my feet from an apparent heart attack. I couldn't speak Spanish, and shouting at passersby for help did no good. No one knew how to perform CPR. The inept ambulance drivers who sauntered upon the scene an hour later had no equipment for reviving him. Of course, the poor man died.
To make matters worse, there was no chaplain or minister to comfort this man's widow. I sat with her in a hotel room through the night, trying to console her. I have never felt so completely ill-equipped to deal with a crisis.
As I prepare for surgery in the morning, I have done everything in my power to make sure that things are taken care of for my husband. The laundry has been put away, the sheets have been changed, the bills have been paid for the next two weeks, and I've arranged for friends to drop by and help me. I even updated my will and wrote out directions for my funeral, just in case I don't come through the surgery as planned.
Setbacks such as a knee injury and surgery are annoyances we would all like to avoid. But as I get ready for this, I realize that God uses these challenges to show us that we are not in control of everything. He is.
For the past few days, I've been considering what I would say if I met Jesus tomorrow. Would I be able to tell him that I did everything he wanted me to do while I was here? Or would I hang my head in shame, knowing that I failed to listen to his directives?
I doubt that Jesus cares whether I have left behind clean sheets on my bed. Or that I have written out a menu for meals to be prepared while I am out of commission.
I'm sure that the Lord does care about the lives I have touched and the love I have shared with others. After all, haven't we been sent to earth to share his love? I have tried to be patient and kind; to forgive others when they have hurt me; to love everyone unconditionally; and to pray for my friends, as well as my enemies. As often as possible, I have given God the glory for my successes.
And at the same time, I realize how often I have failed God. I have behaved selfishly, held onto bitterness over old offenses, judged others who are different, and ignored my prayers. Worst of all, I have frequently taken the credit for something only God could have done.
I realize that in the end, no matter how kind I've been or how patient, if I don't know Jesus Christ as my Savior, I will be lost. I thank God for covering up my sins with the blood of Christ so that I can enjoy freedom from annoyances such as EKGs, allergic reactions, and pain when I get to Heaven.
Yes, things could be far worse. I could live with this knee pain forever, except for the excellent health care we have here in our country. I could spend eternity in hell without hope, if it weren't for the love and sacrifice of Jesus.
I am grateful that God uses all things--even the annoyances--for good in the lives of those who love him. He rattles us so that we are forced to look to him in faith, trusting completely that he will provide whatever he thinks is best.
"Faith like Job's cannot be shaken because it is the result of having been shaken." --Abraham Heschel
Because my doctor forgot to do an EKG on me during my pre-operative physical, I had to drive 90 minutes for a 3-minute test. With my knee in a brace. Leaning on a cane. Praying for relief from the pain.
I purchased post-operative pain killers at the pharmacy and discovered after I got home that the surgeon had prescribed something that I'm allergic to. I can't return the prescription drugs for a refund, and my insurance company has already been billed for their share.
Today, I must remind myself that it could be worse. At least I have health care. Many people in both third world countries and developed nations suffer with painful joints, poor eyesight, and countless diseases until they die. They have no hope for someone like my surgeon to cure them, either because it is unavailable or unaffordable.
I was once in Venezuela and watched a man collapse at my feet from an apparent heart attack. I couldn't speak Spanish, and shouting at passersby for help did no good. No one knew how to perform CPR. The inept ambulance drivers who sauntered upon the scene an hour later had no equipment for reviving him. Of course, the poor man died.
To make matters worse, there was no chaplain or minister to comfort this man's widow. I sat with her in a hotel room through the night, trying to console her. I have never felt so completely ill-equipped to deal with a crisis.
As I prepare for surgery in the morning, I have done everything in my power to make sure that things are taken care of for my husband. The laundry has been put away, the sheets have been changed, the bills have been paid for the next two weeks, and I've arranged for friends to drop by and help me. I even updated my will and wrote out directions for my funeral, just in case I don't come through the surgery as planned.
Setbacks such as a knee injury and surgery are annoyances we would all like to avoid. But as I get ready for this, I realize that God uses these challenges to show us that we are not in control of everything. He is.
For the past few days, I've been considering what I would say if I met Jesus tomorrow. Would I be able to tell him that I did everything he wanted me to do while I was here? Or would I hang my head in shame, knowing that I failed to listen to his directives?
I doubt that Jesus cares whether I have left behind clean sheets on my bed. Or that I have written out a menu for meals to be prepared while I am out of commission.
I'm sure that the Lord does care about the lives I have touched and the love I have shared with others. After all, haven't we been sent to earth to share his love? I have tried to be patient and kind; to forgive others when they have hurt me; to love everyone unconditionally; and to pray for my friends, as well as my enemies. As often as possible, I have given God the glory for my successes.
And at the same time, I realize how often I have failed God. I have behaved selfishly, held onto bitterness over old offenses, judged others who are different, and ignored my prayers. Worst of all, I have frequently taken the credit for something only God could have done.
I realize that in the end, no matter how kind I've been or how patient, if I don't know Jesus Christ as my Savior, I will be lost. I thank God for covering up my sins with the blood of Christ so that I can enjoy freedom from annoyances such as EKGs, allergic reactions, and pain when I get to Heaven.
Yes, things could be far worse. I could live with this knee pain forever, except for the excellent health care we have here in our country. I could spend eternity in hell without hope, if it weren't for the love and sacrifice of Jesus.
I am grateful that God uses all things--even the annoyances--for good in the lives of those who love him. He rattles us so that we are forced to look to him in faith, trusting completely that he will provide whatever he thinks is best.
"Faith like Job's cannot be shaken because it is the result of having been shaken." --Abraham Heschel
Friday, June 4, 2010
Who Cares?
I've got 22 days left to make sure that my wedding gift to my daughter brings squeals of delight, I look svelte at the ceremony, my house warrants a cover story in Architectural Digest, and my yard holds up to the standards of Better Homes and Gardens. So, I'm sewing a gift and a wedding dress, building window treatments, and pulling weeds today, all while lifting barbells to the count of an exercise coach barking orders at me from a video. What's on your to-do list?
Actually, that was the way I used to live. Perfectionism was a way of life for me. But then God turned it all around by giving me MS. It's hard to have buns of steel when the best you can do with your legs is a slow shuffle to the bathroom behind a walker. Paralyzing me was God's way of giving me a very different perspective. No, I'm not talking about the nail pops on my bedroom ceiling. It taught me that some things are really unimportant, like having the perfect house, the trimmest body, or the most beautiful lawn in the neighborhood.
Getting sidelined by an erratic, unpredictable disease taught me what is important: the love of my husband, great relationships with my kids, friendships with deeply spiritual people, and service to others with even greater needs than my own.
Perfectionism makes us tense. We clench our teeth and breathe in short little gasps throughout the day. We make to-do lists that ten people couldn't accomplish in a week, and berate ourselves for not completing every item in one day. We lie awake at night, tossing and turning until our sheets are tied in knots. We wonder how we will ever accomplish all that we have mandated for ourselves tomorrow. When the alarm goes off, we dread what lies ahead: another day filled with drudgery that we unwittingly designed for ourselves.
This is not how God wants us to spend our days. He wants us to experience joy in unexpected delights, such as the cardinal on the back porch blinking a tiny eye at us during breakfast; the sun glinting off the lake during our noon walk; or the miracle of a breath-taking rose bush showing off bright pink blooms. We can't enjoy these moments if we are rushing, rushing, rushing to get everything done on that list we've written for ourselves.
I've learned the most important phrases in the English language: So what? It doesn't matter! and Who cares? We were sent here to please God, not to impress our neighbors.
If perfectionism is driving you, take time today to figure out why you feel so compelled to be perfect. Are you subconsciously trying to please an overly critical parent? Trying to get the attention of someone important? Feeling so inadequate that perfectionism is the only way you can feel good anymore?
I challenge you to cast aside one perfectionistic trait today. Perhaps you'll warrant a comment from a neighbor like I once heard from mine: "Someday, I hope to care so little about my lawn that it looks as awful as yours." Now that's the kind of praise I can glow over. Because with comments like that, I know I've arrived at a point of caring little for what people think about me and concentrating more on how pleasing I am in God's sight.
Actually, that was the way I used to live. Perfectionism was a way of life for me. But then God turned it all around by giving me MS. It's hard to have buns of steel when the best you can do with your legs is a slow shuffle to the bathroom behind a walker. Paralyzing me was God's way of giving me a very different perspective. No, I'm not talking about the nail pops on my bedroom ceiling. It taught me that some things are really unimportant, like having the perfect house, the trimmest body, or the most beautiful lawn in the neighborhood.
Getting sidelined by an erratic, unpredictable disease taught me what is important: the love of my husband, great relationships with my kids, friendships with deeply spiritual people, and service to others with even greater needs than my own.
Perfectionism makes us tense. We clench our teeth and breathe in short little gasps throughout the day. We make to-do lists that ten people couldn't accomplish in a week, and berate ourselves for not completing every item in one day. We lie awake at night, tossing and turning until our sheets are tied in knots. We wonder how we will ever accomplish all that we have mandated for ourselves tomorrow. When the alarm goes off, we dread what lies ahead: another day filled with drudgery that we unwittingly designed for ourselves.
This is not how God wants us to spend our days. He wants us to experience joy in unexpected delights, such as the cardinal on the back porch blinking a tiny eye at us during breakfast; the sun glinting off the lake during our noon walk; or the miracle of a breath-taking rose bush showing off bright pink blooms. We can't enjoy these moments if we are rushing, rushing, rushing to get everything done on that list we've written for ourselves.
I've learned the most important phrases in the English language: So what? It doesn't matter! and Who cares? We were sent here to please God, not to impress our neighbors.
If perfectionism is driving you, take time today to figure out why you feel so compelled to be perfect. Are you subconsciously trying to please an overly critical parent? Trying to get the attention of someone important? Feeling so inadequate that perfectionism is the only way you can feel good anymore?
I challenge you to cast aside one perfectionistic trait today. Perhaps you'll warrant a comment from a neighbor like I once heard from mine: "Someday, I hope to care so little about my lawn that it looks as awful as yours." Now that's the kind of praise I can glow over. Because with comments like that, I know I've arrived at a point of caring little for what people think about me and concentrating more on how pleasing I am in God's sight.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Laugh Your Ashes Off
Sometimes, life just gets to be too serious. This week, I want to encourage you to laugh your ashes off.
Humor is great therapy for the lingering depression that often accompanies childhood sexual abuse or trauma. Laughter is good medicine, and Lord knows we all need mega doses of it.
Here are a few short anecdotes to keep you laughing today:
A little girl and her mother came to the doctor's office. Following the little girl was a little dog.
"Does your dog bite?" asked the doctor.
The girl shook her head.
As the doctor bent down to pet the dog, the dog sank his teeth deep into the doctor's hand. The doctor yelled, "I thought you said your dog doesn't bite!"
The little girl said, "This one ain't mine."
Here's another story:
Two competitor manufacturers were attending an industry association outing at a mountain resort. They were roommates in the same small cabin when they heard scratching outside the door. One went to look, came back and started to put on his running shoes.
"What's the trouble?" asked his roommate.
"There's a giant bear outside," the man said. "And he's so hungry, he's gonna smash his way right into this room.
"Why put on sneakers?" asked the roommate. "You can't outrun a bear."
"I know," said the man, "but all I need to do is outrun you."
And finally:
When we talk to God, people say we're praying. But when God talks to us, they say we're schizophrenic.
Are you chuckling yet? If not, take time today and every day to find something to laugh about. Get online and look up jokes. Watch a laugh-out-loud comedy on TV. Stand in front of the mirror and make stupid faces. Or just take turns yelling out funny words with a friend....words like enema, Winnebago, and buck teeth. Eventually, you'll find yourself laughing again, and you'll wonder how you ever got through a day without it.
And remember, we're only young once. But with humor, we can be immature forever.
Humor is great therapy for the lingering depression that often accompanies childhood sexual abuse or trauma. Laughter is good medicine, and Lord knows we all need mega doses of it.
Here are a few short anecdotes to keep you laughing today:
A little girl and her mother came to the doctor's office. Following the little girl was a little dog.
"Does your dog bite?" asked the doctor.
The girl shook her head.
As the doctor bent down to pet the dog, the dog sank his teeth deep into the doctor's hand. The doctor yelled, "I thought you said your dog doesn't bite!"
The little girl said, "This one ain't mine."
Here's another story:
Two competitor manufacturers were attending an industry association outing at a mountain resort. They were roommates in the same small cabin when they heard scratching outside the door. One went to look, came back and started to put on his running shoes.
"What's the trouble?" asked his roommate.
"There's a giant bear outside," the man said. "And he's so hungry, he's gonna smash his way right into this room.
"Why put on sneakers?" asked the roommate. "You can't outrun a bear."
"I know," said the man, "but all I need to do is outrun you."
And finally:
When we talk to God, people say we're praying. But when God talks to us, they say we're schizophrenic.
Are you chuckling yet? If not, take time today and every day to find something to laugh about. Get online and look up jokes. Watch a laugh-out-loud comedy on TV. Stand in front of the mirror and make stupid faces. Or just take turns yelling out funny words with a friend....words like enema, Winnebago, and buck teeth. Eventually, you'll find yourself laughing again, and you'll wonder how you ever got through a day without it.
And remember, we're only young once. But with humor, we can be immature forever.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
By Their Fruit, You Will Recognize Them
After my father's arrest, he hired a lawyer from his church to bail him out of jail and defend him against the charges he is facing for criminal sexual conduct. Even though Dad already confessed to some of the charges to the police, this lawyer has instructed him to deny any responsibility for his actions. What kind of a Christian tells a fellow believer to lie?
My brother urged Dad to turn from this lying and repent completely. Dad told him he has implicit trust in this attorney to save him. The family all gave a corporate groan over this statement. No man can save us from God's wrath if we live so deeply entrenched in sin.
My father is now considered a fugitive, because he refused to go to the state where the charges have been brought against him. He and his lawyer will appear in court next week to try to convince a judge that he should not have to travel anywhere to be tried for his crimes. He hopes that lying will get him off the hook. His goal: to stay out of jail for as long as possible.
This course of action is costing him dearly in this life; the legal fees are crushing. The price it will cost him in the next life, though, is what concerns us the most.
When my father's crimes were brought to light, my siblings rushed to him to point out his need for repentance. They felt confident that Dad would turn his life around if they just loved him enough and prayed for him. I told them that this might backfire on them, and I stood back to watch what would happen next.
I got a call from my brother yesterday. He felt completely discouraged by Dad's refusal to face his punishment, his relationship with this attorney, and his willingness to lie in court. After years of thinking that Dad would suddenly change, my brother said, "You were right. He's just doing what he always has."
My brother's statement made me think about what Jesus said in Matthew 7:18 and 20, "A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, and a bad tree cannot bear good fruit....Thus, by their fruit you will recognize them." We can discern the condition of a man's heart by observing the kind of spiritual fruit he produces.
During this conversation with my brother, I also learned that my parents are angry with Joe and me, saying that if we were real Christians, we would have forgiven Dad already and patched up the family feud. Dad said to my brother, who has continued to visit my parents, "I'm glad you're standing behind me." My brother was shocked by this statement. He thought, I'm not standing behind you. I'm just walking beside you! Now he understands my wisdom in watching from a distance.
We must be very, very careful when dealing with people whose lives are steeped in this much sin. As Christians, we believe it is our duty to show our love to all people. Some people, like my father, get the mistaken belief when we love them in overt ways, they are forgiven. In their minds, if we're part of their lives, they're okay with God. This is very far from the truth.
It is much wiser to love people like this from a distance, praying for their salvation. The pain of being separated from us may lead them to turn to God. Joining them where they are often sends the message that we are letting them off the hook. By standing too close to them, they may never come to a point of repentance. Holding their hand may cause us to experience spiritual confusion and tremendous heartache.
Since I have stepped back from this situation and looked at it as God does, I feel a surprising sense of peace. As my brother put it yesterday, "We've all done everything we could to help Dad see what he needs to do. The rest is up to him." We will all continue to pray, the Holy Spirit will do his work, and my dad will have to make a choice. Let's pray that he chooses more than just temporary relief from earthly punishment. God's prison is a whole lot worse than any that man has ever devised.
Has your life become enmeshed with someone who is sinning, lying about it, and running from God? What do you think is your best course of action for protecting your spirit and leading this person to salvation?
My brother urged Dad to turn from this lying and repent completely. Dad told him he has implicit trust in this attorney to save him. The family all gave a corporate groan over this statement. No man can save us from God's wrath if we live so deeply entrenched in sin.
My father is now considered a fugitive, because he refused to go to the state where the charges have been brought against him. He and his lawyer will appear in court next week to try to convince a judge that he should not have to travel anywhere to be tried for his crimes. He hopes that lying will get him off the hook. His goal: to stay out of jail for as long as possible.
This course of action is costing him dearly in this life; the legal fees are crushing. The price it will cost him in the next life, though, is what concerns us the most.
When my father's crimes were brought to light, my siblings rushed to him to point out his need for repentance. They felt confident that Dad would turn his life around if they just loved him enough and prayed for him. I told them that this might backfire on them, and I stood back to watch what would happen next.
I got a call from my brother yesterday. He felt completely discouraged by Dad's refusal to face his punishment, his relationship with this attorney, and his willingness to lie in court. After years of thinking that Dad would suddenly change, my brother said, "You were right. He's just doing what he always has."
My brother's statement made me think about what Jesus said in Matthew 7:18 and 20, "A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, and a bad tree cannot bear good fruit....Thus, by their fruit you will recognize them." We can discern the condition of a man's heart by observing the kind of spiritual fruit he produces.
During this conversation with my brother, I also learned that my parents are angry with Joe and me, saying that if we were real Christians, we would have forgiven Dad already and patched up the family feud. Dad said to my brother, who has continued to visit my parents, "I'm glad you're standing behind me." My brother was shocked by this statement. He thought, I'm not standing behind you. I'm just walking beside you! Now he understands my wisdom in watching from a distance.
We must be very, very careful when dealing with people whose lives are steeped in this much sin. As Christians, we believe it is our duty to show our love to all people. Some people, like my father, get the mistaken belief when we love them in overt ways, they are forgiven. In their minds, if we're part of their lives, they're okay with God. This is very far from the truth.
It is much wiser to love people like this from a distance, praying for their salvation. The pain of being separated from us may lead them to turn to God. Joining them where they are often sends the message that we are letting them off the hook. By standing too close to them, they may never come to a point of repentance. Holding their hand may cause us to experience spiritual confusion and tremendous heartache.
Since I have stepped back from this situation and looked at it as God does, I feel a surprising sense of peace. As my brother put it yesterday, "We've all done everything we could to help Dad see what he needs to do. The rest is up to him." We will all continue to pray, the Holy Spirit will do his work, and my dad will have to make a choice. Let's pray that he chooses more than just temporary relief from earthly punishment. God's prison is a whole lot worse than any that man has ever devised.
Has your life become enmeshed with someone who is sinning, lying about it, and running from God? What do you think is your best course of action for protecting your spirit and leading this person to salvation?
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