Whose Honor?

Recently I've been reading The Five Love Languages of Teenagers, which I highly recommend when your kids are about eleven. As I've been pondering how to best fill my teen's love tank, I've also had a couple of interesting and challenging conversations with folks about parenting. It seems the best we can do for our children at any age is pray and love them toward the most solid foundation of God-confidence possible. Not to modify their behavior or spare them any pain in life - that's how we learn, after all - but to train them to lean on God and depend on Him only for their sense of self and security.

This morning I was reading the story of a man whose parents either didn't have this goal or whose heart was just to hard to be molded. His appetite for man's praise and power was insatiable. Here's just one example of the warped perspective Haman lived with:

"Calling together his friends and Zeresh, his wife, Haman boasted to them about his vast wealth, his many sons, and all the ways the king had honored him and how he had elevated him above the other nobles and officials. 'And that's not all,' Haman added. 'I'm the only person Queen Esther invited to accompany the king to the banquet she gave. And she has invited me along with the king tomorrow. But all this gives me no satisfaction as long as I see that Jew Mordecai sitting at the king's gate.'" (Esther 5:10-13)

Even though the king had honored Haman, he had a fertile family, and everyone in the kingdom recognized his power and accomplishment, "that Jew Mordecai sitting at the gate", who wouldn't bow down to him, overshadowed everything good in his life.

It got me thinking: whose honor do I care about most? Where does my sense of well-being come from? Who do I strive to please in my daily activities?

The Bible tells me that the answer to all these questions should be God, of course. But is that how I live it out when I worry more about a friend being mad at me than being obedient? Is that the reality when I set professional or personal goals without consulting God or considering His perspective? Am I living for God's honor alone when I choose to lie? When my insecurities drive me to treat others poorly? When gratitude for all of God's blessings are minimized and I focus on the few things I want that I don't have? What about when I fall prey to the green monster of envy over someone else's good looks, good fortune, or good life?

These behaviors and attitudes all reflect a Haman-esque perspective. A focus on self and a pride that keeps me from experiencing God's best in my life and peace in His presence. And when I recognize the symptoms, the only remedy is to repent.

You see, I want my son to have a strong sense of identity in Christ, but I want it for myself, too! I want to focus like a laser beam on the things of God: what pleases Him, what is holy, serving others. But I'm incapable of that kind of life without the powerful intervention of the Holy Spirit and the redeeming work of Christ's perfect sacrifice on the cross.

Thanks be to God that we have access to these because of the grace and love of God our Father! He speaks ALL the love languages, because He is love. What better place to turn in order to be transformed!

So I met a guy in a bar last night.

Let me explain.

I was meeting a couple of friends who used to work for my husband, and when we meet, we meet at the restaurant my husband used to own, which is where they used to work. As we were catching up on jobs, relationships, and the state of politics and the economy, a man seated a few barstools away from us joined our conversation.

First, he commented on the frustrations of the aging process. Brother, I hear you there! We nodded politely, then turned back to our conversation.

After he'd had a couple more drinks and our conversation seemed more interesting to him, he chimed in once again. This time he had overheard us talking about gay marriage laws and differing views Christians had on the subject. My friends and I have agreed to disagree on many issues, this being one of them. Our new friend directed his comment to me when he said, "so you're one of those judgmental Christians who thinks all gay people will go to hell." Awesome. I responded that if by judgmental he meant putting myself in a superior position to others, then, no. I'm not judgmental. (This after he wondered why I just didn't embrace my judgmentalism.)

"Do you believe there's a hell?"

"Yes," I replied.

"Do you believe people will actually go there?"

"Yes."

"Do you believe all gay people will go to hell?"

"Absolutely not."

His eyebrows raised, he pursed his lips and nodded slowly, as if to say, "tell me more". So I did.

As my friends had quickly exited for a cigarette, throwing me under the bus to engage our new friend alone, I continued:

"You see, I don't think it's what anybody does that determines whether or not they go to heaven. It's who they know. If someone knows Jesus and accepts what HE did by dying on the cross for them, that's what determines whether or not they go to heaven."

More nodding.

Then, after some talk of Americans not knowing the difference between consubstantiation and transubstantiation, and illiterate spirituality, and "slaughtering" religious differences, we discovered that the barstool denizen was, in fact, Canadian. He'd been living here for 10 years and had assessed the American spiritual zeitgeist so thoroughly that there really was nothing left to discuss.

So he finished his meal, paid his tab, and left.

My friends and I debriefed.

Turns out they really agree with a lot that he was saying. But he was such a jerk about it that they didn't trust themselves to engage calmly in my defense as he ranted about "literalist Christians" and their problems interpreting the first 2 chapters of Genesis (idiots!). There was some awkward head-shaking and sighing before we moved on to the next topic in his absence.

This morning I'm replaying the conversations in my head. Did I represent Christ well? Did I speak truth? How can I keep engaging people on issues like biblical interpretations of social issues without appearing to be (or actually being) ignorant or condescending or rude?

Thank God for the power of the Holy Spirit! I was leaning heavily on His direction last night, for sure. And so, this morning, I release my second-guessing and hand-wringing to His sovereignty. May my Canadian spiritual nemesis find truth and peace in other conversations as God reveals Himself more and more.

He is risen!

Easter Sunday.

What better opportunity for teenage boys to ride, jump with, and fall off bikes? Last weekend we travelled over the river and through the woods - to Grandmother's house we went. There, we found skate parks and piles of dirt to make a young boy's heart pound and adrenaline race through his veins.

A few crashes? Not to worry. Our chiropractor will soon put everything back in order.

The beauty of the huge mounds of dirt on the neighbor's property was the height to which bikers could soar if they had enough momentum. Some went higher than others, of course, but everyone involved caught some air.

The freedom and joy in the faces of the bikers this weekend was more than apt for Resurrection Sunday. As I contemplate all that Easter means for us, I am more and more in awe of the perfect plan and effect God's sovereign power wrought.

As we embrace the glory of the cross - the ultimate victory over all the sin that weighs me down and the death that threatened to separate us from God forever - we have access to God's Holy Spirit, who will empower and transform us to live in freedom with God.

Because He is risen.

Death could not hold Him. The grave could not keep Him from rising again.

And because of that glorious sacrifice and victory, I am free to soar. I'm free to live without the burden of my past. I can run unhindered by sin that trips me up and makes me stumble.

Because He is risen.

I want my life in Christ to be like the bikers who caught the most air last weekend: exuberant, free, and exhilarating. Defying gravity and moving forward in power. We can live like this!

Because He is risen!

The Cross on the Side of the Road

This morning I was heading to what I thought was going to be a momentous and emotionally heavy, but healing, conversation. I prayed in the car all the way, asking God to bring healing and truth into the conversation. I confessed that I trusted in Him, not the process I was engaging in.

Imagine my chagrin when, upon arriving at my destination, I found that the person with whom I was to have the conversation was out of town! We had clearly crossed our icalendar wires and I left feeling disappointed and empty. I was geared up. Emotionally charged. Ready for the carefrontation to occur.

But alas, it wasn't meant to be today.

Returning home, I asked God, "What's this about? What does it mean? Was I wrong to schedule this in the first place? Is this your way of telling me it was a bad idea to pursue it?" The combination of the emotional letdown, PMS creeping in, and the misty weather blurred my vision as I drove.

Then I saw the cross.

No, I mean a literal cross. On the side of the road.

It was the huge cross that a local church has in front of it and it was draped in a long white cloth that was dancing in the rainy breeze. Adorning the top was a crown of thorns.

It was a vivid reminder to me from God that THIS is where healing and redemption lie. Not in a conversation or a process or a life formula. The details of my situation were immediately dwarfed by the looming cross and its significance.

I began to pray for my friends whose lives were broken by their circumstances. For family members who weren't following God. For my own faith - that it would only and ever be based solely on the miraculous, redemptive work that was done on that cross.

It was a timely and necessary means to jog my memory and draw me into God's perspective on my circumstances. The truth is that everything else pales in comparison to the eternal truths that the cross represents. And this is a perfect time of year to be reminded of that each time I drive past a church with a liturgically dressed cross.

I am loved.

I am free from the burden of my past and of my failures.

I am part of God's family and I will spend eternity with Him.

Jesus died to pay a debt I could never pay to a holy God and HE IS ALIVE to intercede for me.

I've run the emotional gamut this morning, and it's not even lunchtime yet. But I've also experienced my Savior's truth and perspective in a way that should last until we say, "Hosannah, Hosannah! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the LORD!" on Sunday.

God First

This morning I said to God, "I have a lot to do this morning, but first I have to do you."

He smiled and nodded imperceptibly.

And that has made all the difference.

Building a Kingdom

I have to come clean and admit that I'm fully engaged in another Facebook game: Castleville. (Here's a shout out to all my friends in neighboring kingdoms who have been so kind as to visit me and give me shards of exploration crystals and have unwithered my crops. Hollah....)

The tag line on this highly addictive and relatively unproductive game is: Build a happy kingdom with your friends. How could I resist? I mean, who doesn't long to build a happy kingdom with friends? I want a kingdom, of which I am presumably in charge, and I want to have community. So it's perfect, right?

Sure, if all you have to do is complete random quests given to you by Rafael and Yvette by chopping down trees, crafting in your workshop, and destroying beasties who invade your happy kingdom. Then you are set.

However, as I've been contemplating deeper, more spiritual questions, the tag line of Castleville has been reverberating in my mind. As my family and friends have been through some tough church issues in the past few years, I find myself asking the question: what's church for? The realization I've come to is that for most of my adult life I've thought church is to build a happy kingdom with my friends.

It's not.

I heard a fantastic sermon at church this morning entitled: "Life at 2AM - Why are we here?" Our purpose in life is to glorify God, and when we do that in community we build HIS kingdom, not ours. And whether or not our friends are there, we love others and work together in unity to work toward HIS purposes, doing HIS will. It's not about us.

Church is not about building our kingdom with our friends. It sounds obvious, but is it how we react when things go badly? Is it manifested in our priorities in such a way that we live in a tension between our individual surrender to God's Spirit and our devoted participation in His body?

The temptation is great to work toward building a happy kingdom with my friends. But the bottom line is that my friends aren't always around and they often have very little to do with who God is asking me to do to build His kingdom.

Friends move away; God is always with us.

Friends disappoint us; God is always faithful.

Friends are sinners; God is holy and just.

This personal epiphany has opened my eyes to a new perspective and I'm hoping God will continue to show me how He wants to use me to build His eternal kingdom. I'd love company if you're in....

Towels

Living in the Northwest, I often find that my bathroom towel never completely dries between showers. It may be partially because of our climate: damp, cool, and dreary most of the winter. It may also be partially because my towel hangs on a hook, whereas my husband's towel hangs fully stretched out on a bar of the shower door. (I know. The lack of symmetry in the design of our bathroom is a topic for another day.)

So, not surprisingly, it got me to thinking about things as I looked at the towels in our bathroom. There's something attractive about the idea of being completely stretched out and available to perform at optimum potential. If a towel is not fully dry, how can it do its job? And a towel perpetually folded upon itself doesn't dry properly and it starts to smell after a while. Moldy, moist, and not what you want to wrap around your dripping body after a shower.

I want to be like a towel that's stretched out and ready to perform. One that has the service of other people as a priority. I want to have everything unattractive in me taken out and whisked away into the atmosphere so I can be fresh and available.

A towel on a hook - a life that's imploding in self-absorption - not only has limited usefulness, but after a while, starts to smell. I don't want a life that's only worried about MY boundaries that have been crossed. MY desires met. MY feelings hurt.

If God is like a dry breeze that lifts the mold and mildew of my life so I can selflessly serve others, let the wind blow! Let me have a virtual heated towel rack in my bathroom of life! I catch of whiff of my selfishness from time to time and I want to toss the towel in the laundry basket and start with the fresh scent of Downy again. And I can with Jesus!

That's what redemption is all about.

A fresh start.

A do-over.

No more moldy odors or damp cotton to do a half-assed job. I want to be stretched out and ready to serve. Fresh and clean. Nothing to hide in the mildewy folds of my introspection.

Let the cleansing wind of the Holy Spirit blow into the towel racks of my life, Lord! I want to smell Downy fresh!