Exiled in Babylon

I never set out to become an idol worshiper. There was no golden calf. No calculated attempt to usurp my Heavenly Father. It was that slow, quiet creeping in and taking over that did me in. I allowed another human being to become more important to me than my Savior. I planned my days, my months, my life around this person. And as human beings are apt to do -- intentionally or not -- he ultimately failed me. He disappointed. He abandoned me. He could not be my god. He was soon replaced by another. Another who, like his predecessor, could not fill the void. And one day he, too, left me. After spending several years chasing shadows, the Almighty's whispers were all but drowned out by the enemy's lies. I felt myself lonely. Devastated. Hopeless. I had left my first love and found myself in spiritual exile.

My Babylon was no where near as trying as that of the Israelites', but there was common ground. There is common ground. There was and is still hope for those who earnestly seek Him. The enemy will tell us there isn't. He will say that God has left us. That we have been abandoned by our King. That there is no reason not to succumb to the culture of our captors and spend our days flitting from one fleshly distraction to another. But it is a lie. Just as Jeremiah came to the Israelites and gave them a message of hope, our Savior has done the same for us.

^"This is what the Lord says: “When seventy years are completed for Babylon, I will come to you and fulfill my good promise to bring you back to this place. For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you,” declares the Lord, “and will bring you back from captivity. I will gather you from all the nations and places where I have banished you,” declares the Lord, “and will bring you back to the place from which I carried you into exile.” Jeremiah 29:10-14

^"What, then, shall we say in response to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things? Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies. Who then is the one who condemns? No one. Christ Jesus who died—more than that, who was raised to life—is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? As it is written: “For your sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.” No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord." Romans 8:31-39

In my rebellion, I succumbed to the enemy's lies. And when the idols I'd recklessly followed failed me, I felt all was lost. Tomorrow marks eleven years since I threw in the towel, swallowed a bunch of pills, and gave it all up as lost. Tomorrow also marks eleven years since God snatched me out of captivity and affirmed that He does, indeed, have plans for me. Plans for hope. Plans for a future. Plans for His Kingdom. My life was not over. He was not done with me. I don't have all the details. I must rely on Him for those in His timing. And I still struggle from time to time with things and people that compete with God for my heart -- some of them very good things in and of themselves (but anything that replaces Him as our utmost priority -- where our thoughts, time, money are devoted -- is an idol). But nothing, nothing can ever separate me from the love of God, in Christ Jesus my Lord.

And the same goes for you. Will you seek Him?

Love Never Fails

 

Yesterday I wandered through Fred Meyer as they set up their seasonal floor area with buckets upon buckets of fresh flowers adjacent to aisles of chocolate and every sweet thing imaginable. It was the calm before the storm. I can imagine the madness today as folks sift through a dwindling card selection, frantically  trying to avoid the icy stare and cold shoulder at home that may result from coming  home empty handed on this fabulous made up holiday. We've arrived, folks. Welcome to the day of Love.

But between the panicked and the head over heels crowds, there is another group of folks who bemoan this day's existence. While some single people are entirely indifferent to the commercialized madness of a day devoted to "love" (or are just looking forward to the candy clearance that follows it ... ahem), others find it to be a cruel reminder of their relationship status. Heartbroken. Divorced. Widowed. Waiting on Mr. or Ms. Right, wondering if he or she will ever show up.

The funny thing is that love by our human standards is not all chocolates and roses. Sure, dating is fun. Getting engaged is exciting. The wedding is ... well, stressful ... but magical, sure. But marriage? The aftermath of all that romance and excitement? Folks, marriage is HARD. It is absolutely joyous at times, but it truly can feel like you're being put through the wringer at others. Holding steady on that course in times of difficulty (financial hardship, raising kids, illness, raising kids ... etc.) is a rough road to travel, and one that many folks diverge from in an age when divorce is so commonplace and almost expected. Human "love" fails. It disappoints. It falls short of our expectations.

So. In light of the fact that we haven't quite got this love thing figured out, what if we chose to to spend this love-crazed holiday focusing not on our human approximation of "love," but rather on true love (I definitely just said that to myself in the priest's voice from "The Princess Bride," but I digress ... ). I'm not talking "once upon a time ... " love. I'm talking about the real, unconditional, unfathomable love of God. The kind of love that proves out every time in patience, selflessness, sacrifice .... the kind of love that never fails. Love and its importance are defined for us in one of Paul's letters to the church at Corinth:

"If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.  

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.Love never fails."

I Corinthians 13:1-8

So. Quick self-assessment. Completely confidential. Between you and God. How does your love rate against what scripture says love is? Yeah. My score sheet doesn't look so hot either.

And that's for the people I truly say I love or with whom I am in love. What about everyone else? Biblical love isn't a "Be my Valentine," invitation only affair. Nope. We don't get off the hook that easily.

“A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”

John 13:34-35

"As I have loved you .... " A tall order when it comes straight from the mouth of the Savior. You really want a holiday to celebrate love? Try Easter. Not the big bunny with floppy ears and colorful eggs (and more clearance priced candy) variety. The "I love you so much that, even in the face of your abuse and neglect and rebelliousness, I will take on the punishment intended for you" variety. Jesus wasn't interested in love that demanded "fairness" or reciprocation. His love had no conditions. It was about who He was and the Father He served, not about our worthiness as the objects of that love. But that's what our version of love tends to be about, isn't it? It's something about the other person that makes us love them or invokes kindness.

So what happens when the other person doesn't "deserve" that kind of "earned" love? How many times have you responded with harsh words or a dirty look (or a scathing social media post ... !!) when someone has been rude or lashed out at you? How might responding instead in love ... God-derived, REAL love ... change that person over time? We may never know if we continue to do what the world expects of us. Returning kind for kind. But we're called to be different, set apart. Sometimes we cannot muster the strength on our own (there are days when its hard even in our own families), but praying for God to give us His love for others will change not only our own hearts, but the lives of those around us as well as He works through us. Be the channel through which His love flows rather than trying to be the source, and the glory will rest in its proper place. 

So this Valentine's Day, by all means, get your sweetheart some flowers and go out to dinner. Buy that clearance candy. But try to focus on celebrating real love this day -- and every day -- by exuding a love that touches every person you come into contact with. Be free in giving out smiles and a friendly "Good morning!" to strangers. Hold doors open. Help a stranger (or a sibling ... eek!) clean up a mess. Speak life into people's lives, not condemnation. Give the benefit of doubt. Discipline your kids in love, not anger (because love isn't the same as enabling poor choices and behavior, see Hebrews 12:6 and about half of the book of Proverbs). Be an encouragement, not a critic. Choose love. Godly love. True love. And live it. Every day. Every day can be a celebration of love if we choose it.



 

Seventy times Seven

"Forgiveness is an act of the will, and the will can function regardless of the temperature of the heart." ~ Corrie Ten Boom

I have a secret sin (for another second, anyway): I'm bitter. Surprised? It's true. I am generally an optimistic, hopeful person. I like to give people the benefit of a doubt. There are exceptions, though. Two that readily come to mind. Two individuals that, given a new offense or simply a faulty mood on my part, become the subject of "righteous indignation" and a venting session worthy of daytime television. And when the dust settles, I feel worse. Not only have I failed to relieve those feelings of hurt, anger and resentment, but I have also unloaded that negativity on someone I care about. Research suggests that venting, rather than relieving the pressure of anger, essentially acts as a "rehearsal" of the feelings of anger, resentment and bitterness. In most cases venting leads to more anger, not less. And that should really come as no surprise. We are cataloging the transgressions of the offender. We present the "record of wrongs," seeking justification of our anger, our hurt, our bitterness from an earthly jury. The jury's verdict is nearly always a resounding, "Guilty." But even once the verdict is read, we revisit the trial time and again. Intentionally reliving moments of anguish, misunderstanding, hurt, or injustice over and over again. Our courtroom is flawed.

The fix for this flawed system, as the Holy Spirit has been actively impressing upon me over the last few weeks, is forgiveness. I revel in the graciousness of a forgiving Father, but what of those who have wronged me? Sadly I (and probably some of you reading this as well) can identify with the unmerciful servant in Matthew 18:

“For this reason the kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who wished to settle accounts with his slaves. When he had begun to settle them, one who owed him ten thousand talents was brought to him. But since he did not have the means to repay, his lord commanded him to be sold, along with his wife and children and all that he had, and repayment to be made. So the slave fell to the ground and prostrated himself before him, saying, ‘Have patience with me and I will repay you everything.’ And the lord of that slave felt compassion and released him and forgave him the debt. But that slave went out and found one of his fellow slaves who owed him a hundred denarii; and he seized him and began to choke him, saying, ‘Pay back what you owe.’ So his fellow slave fell to the ground and began to plead with him, saying, ‘Have patience with me and I will repay you.’ But he was unwilling and went and threw him in prison until he should pay back what was owed. So when his fellow slaves saw what had happened, they were deeply grieved and came and reported to their lord all that had happened. Then summoning him, his lord said to him, ‘You wicked slave, I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me. Should you not also have had mercy on your fellow slave, in the same way that I had mercy on you?’ And his lord, moved with anger, handed him over to the torturers until he should repay all that was owed him.  My heavenly Father will also do the same to you, if each of you does not forgive his brother from your heart.” 

~ Matthew 18:23-35

The moral of the story? In order to receive forgiveness, we must be willing to forgive. Not just say we forgive someone, but actually forgive them. And in case there is any doubt on the subject, it is reiterated a number of times in the New Testament:

"This, then, is how you should pray: 'Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name, your kingdom come, your will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us today our daily bread. Forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from the evil one.' For if you forgive men when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive men their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins."

~ Matthew 6:9-15

 "And when you stand praying, if you hold anything against anyone, forgive him, so that your Father in heaven may forgive you your sins."

~ Mark 11:25

"Bearing with one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive."

~ Colossians 3:12

But what does true forgiveness look like? Have you ever screwed up and later apologized to someone. He or she says they accept your apology and forgive you, but down the road you find yourself at odds with them again (regardless of who is "at fault") and all of a sudden you're being read a laundry list of all the things for which he or she said they forgave you? Me too. Have you ever been the one recounting that list of wrongs? Yeah, me too. If our interactions with a person are filtered through a sieve of their past transgressions (in the sense that we automatically interpret every word or action to confirm our own negative ideas about them and sift out and ignore any evidence to the contrary), I think it is safe to say we have not truly forgiven them. We harbor ill-will. Ill-will that not only takes roots as bitterness in our hearts, but it also interferes with our fellowship with the Father and, if the other party is a believer, sows discord in the body of Christ.

Forgiveness is an extension of grace (read: it is undeserved) born out of love. As we know from I Corinthian 13, love is, among other things:

• Patient - Understanding that everyone struggles and change is a process
• Kind - friendly, generous
• Not Self-Seeking - not more concerned with saving face, proving something or seeking revenge than with being obedient and extending grace to the undeserving (just as we've received)
• Not Easily Angered - not jumping immediately to anger and negativity, but rather being willing to give the benefit of doubt, extend grace, etc.
• Keeps No Record of Wrongs - forgives in a manner consistent with the example God has given us Himself and through Jesus Christ

I don't know about you, but so far, my forgiveness report card is not looking so hot. The Old Testament gives us further insight into what true forgiveness (as extended by God) looks like:

"The Lord is merciful and gracious, slow to anger an abounding in steadfast love. He will not always chide, nor will he keep His anger forever. He does not deal with us according to our sins, nor repay us according to our iniquities. For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his steadfast love toward those who fear him; as far as the east is from the west, so far does he remove our transgressions from us."

~ Psalm 103:8-12

"Who is a God like you, who pardons sin and forgives the transgressions of the remnant of his inheritance? You do not stay angry forever, but delight to show mercy. You will again have compassion on us; you will tread our sins underfoot and hurl all our iniquities into the depths of the sea."

~ Micah 7:18-19

Your sin is gone. Don't let the condemning whispers of the enemy fool you. That is not God recounting your past mistakes. It is the enemy seeking to thwart the purpose of God in your life. And when I offer only a feeble, false representation of forgiveness to someone in my life, it may very well be my voice in that person's ear doing the enemy's work for him. I must not listen to or allow myself to become the condemning whisper that fuels crippling guilt and self-pity.


Perhaps the best picture of what forgiveness looks like, however, is the image of a perfect man, God incarnate, sent to earth for one purpose: To rescue us; to purchase our forgiveness with His blood. Forgiveness is not easy. Blameless though He was, Jesus was tormented. He was lied to and about. He was falsely accused. He was beaten savagely. Traps were laid for him. His words were twisted and misconstrued. He was betrayed by one of His beloved twelve. He was humiliated. Mocked. Murdered. And if His prayer in the garden is any indication, He didn't feel like doing it, but He chose to do it anyway.

How can I, in all my imperfection, totally dependent on His grace, hold fast to the hurt, the anger, the torment and refuse to forgive? How insulting is that to the Savior who gave everything to extend me forgiveness? Am I more deserving of forgiveness than those that hurt me? Of course not. I'm clinging to a self-serving double standard. And if I feel I cannot forgive, that I do not have it in me to do so, who better to give that hurt, anger and torment over to than the one who so freely gave of Himself to free me from my own sin? The One who knows exactly what I am going through, and then some. Forgiveness is a not a feeling. It is a choice. And the longer I live (and the more avenues through which the Holy Spirit prods), the more I realize how dependent I am on God even for that.

The hardest aspect of the forgiveness dilemma for me was voiced through Peter's question to Jesus:

 "Then Peter came up and said to him, 'Lord, how often will my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? As many as seven times?' Jesus said to him, 'I do not say to you seven times, but seventy times seven.'"

~ Matthew 18:21-22  

In light of the fact that "[love] keeps no record of wrongs," I believe it's safe to say that Jesus isn't suggesting that we keep track of a person's offenses up through No. 490 and after that we get a free pass on the whole forgiveness thing. The point is that regardless of whether a person is sorry, regardless of whether the offense is repeated time and again, we are to forgive. Even if they never proactively ask for our forgiveness.   

Forgiveness is a big deal because it is an opportunity for us to reenact here on earth what our Heavenly Father did for us through Jesus Christ. If my version of forgiveness is the only version a person has by which to gauge the forgiveness offered through Jesus Christ, will he or she want anything to do with it?

I was chatting with Daddy about this blog yesterday and he used a phrase I love: He said that forgiveness is our opportunity to "multiply grace." What a beautiful thought, indeed. That is what I want forgiveness to look like for me ... and I know that through His love and strength, it will be.

A Whisper of Hope

This Thursday, May 2, 2013, marks the ten year anniversary of hope renewed in my life.

Despite feeling a lifetime apart from that other self most days, it is hard to believe a decade has come and gone since that pivotal moment in my life. I remember it as though it were yesterday. The scene is etched in my mind in nightmarish detail. Every time I hear an advertisement for Ambien, I think about that day. I recall holding that prescription bottle in my hand as the tears fell silently. If I took enough, I could sleep forever. I wouldn’t have to feel the pain, the hurt, the loss anymore. I think about putting it on the counter and walking away. And I remember coming back to it again. Afterwards, I sobbed. I didn’t know how long it would take for a month’s worth of sedative to permanently sedate me. But in the moments following my deliberate overdose, I felt regret. There was a brief flicker of light in which I thought there might have been hope left afterall. But was I too late to catch hold of it? I made two phone calls that day. One to apologize to Dave. We’d broken up recently, but this wasn’t his fault. I needed him to know that. The other was to my Dad. I’ve overdosed, Daddy. I’ve tried to kill myself. I need help. Then the lights went out.

I regained consciousness some hours later in the ER at St. Luke’s (the hospital bills alone were enough to drive a perfectly optimistic person to depression). Having your stomach pumped with charcoal (to counter the effect of the drugs) gives a whole new meaning to you-know-what’ing bricks. Charcoal briquettes, that is (it is a testament to the resilience of the sick Miller family sense of humor that I said this while still at the hospital). I was interviewed to determine if the Baker Act needed to be invoked (thankfully it wasn’t). The days that followed the overdose are still a little foggy.

My parents were there with me. Not condemning me. Not questioning me. I put them through hell that day, but they were there loving me, supporting me, lifting me up in prayer. Thanking God, as I do even now, that He gave their little girl a second chance to live.

Others pulled away when they found out what happened. I was a leper, and they didn’t want what I had. I was a ticking time bomb, waiting to go off again, threatening to suck innocent bystanders into the blast zone. I learned quickly who my real friends were. My best friend was, in fact, not the best. There was not room for me or my problems in her quickly evolving life. Those sorts of realizations were heart wrenching. Even now, when I am infinitely more comfortable in my own skin, it is interesting to see people’s reactions when they hear my story. I’ve learned that in most cases, the reaction says a lot more about who that other person is than about who I am. I do my best not to harbor hard feelings in those cases. This behavior does, however, make me upset about how our society treats those who struggle with depression and other mental or behavioral health issues. Depression is a cancer of the mind. It eats away at hope.

A few months after my overdose, I checked myself into an outpatient program at Baptist Medical Center because I felt myself drifting back into the same thought patterns that led me to that place of despair the first time. I am, quite happily, off of antidepressants at this point in my life, but I have been on them years at a time on and off since my overdose. I sought counseling following the overdose and even as recent as two years ago. I share all of this to make the following point: There is no shame in seeking help. Having the guts to reach out is a special kind of brave, even if I do say so myself. In many cases, depression is the result of a medically proven chemical imbalance in the brain (Interested in learning more about this? Google “serotonin” and do a little research on its role in mood regulation, implications of it being taken up too quickly, and how serotonin-specific reuptake inhibitors [SSRI’s] – you may recognize many common antidepressants on that list – are used to regulate the presence of serotonin in the central nervous system). If you’re physically ill, you go to the doctor. Depression and mental illness should be no different.

One of my absolute favorite resources following my overdose in 2003 was Susan Rose Blauner’s book How I Stayed Alive When My Brain Was Trying to Kill Me. Blauner herself suffered from several mental health disorders and attempted suicide multiple times (the percentage of failed suicide attempts that are followed by a subsequent attempt is very high). She’s been in the trenches. I remember thinking as I read this book for the first time: “YES! That’s EXACTLY what it’s like!” She explains depression from a number of perspectives (including medically) and she provides a plethora of practical tools to redirect your thought processes. She also includes an entire section entitled “Helping the Suicidal Thinker” for those who are not suicidal themselves but rather know someone who is. Blauner’s book is not written from a Christian perspective, but there is great emphasis on the power of our thoughts and words to drive our mood and our actions. This is a concept addressed repeatedly in scripture. And so I recommend this book -- highly recommend it -- to any of you who are suffering from severe depression (even if it has not reached the point of suicidal thoughts) and to those of you who know someone who is struggling.

So there it is: A new blog entry. A little glimpse into my life. It has not (and still is not) all sunshine and rainbows. I’ve suffered under the weight of a broken engagement. I’ve been cheated on. I even once called my (now ex) fiancé only to have another woman pick up the phone. The baggage from that relationship added to the angst in the two that followed and still occasionally haunts me now in a marriage that both Eric and I consider as a happy one. I have struggled with depression since the age of seventeen. I attempted suicide. I have been betrayed or grossly misrepresented by people I considered my closest friends. And I’ve not been an angel myself. I’ve spent more than my fair share of time frequenting bars with less than honorable intentions. I chased love and fulfillment in a world that is broken and dark, and which could never offer the fulfillment I was seeking. My life now is a far cry from all of that, but it is not perfect. Transformed? Yes. Progressing? Yes. Perfect? No.  And make no mistake about it: I am where I am today because God reached down, time and again, and picked his prodigal daughter up out of the mire and set her back on solid ground.

So my message for you today is one of HOPE. No matter how dark this world may seem. No matter how hopeless you feel. Listen for the whisper of Hope. Hear the voice of God. Seek help. And know that you have a future and a purpose in Him (Jeremiah 29:11-12).

a little longer ...

I was sifting through some of my writing from years past and came across this little ditty written in May 2007:

a little longer ...

So let's battle a little longer, You and I.
Pour into me Your love. Take from me this pride.
Battered, black and blue from all I pledge allegiance to.
And in the end it'll pass away, and all that's left is You.

So let's struggle a little longer, Adonai.
Instill in me Your mercy. Take from me this pride.
Reminded in my weakness of Your sufficient grace.
One day I'll shed this selfishness and truly seek Your face.

So let's wrestle a little longer, we're far from through.
Confront me with Your holiness. Show me what is true.
Broken by my own mistakes and remaining stubborn still.
Only You have power to mend this heart as You work in me Your will.


If you read my last post (from many, many months ago ... time flies when you're neglecting your blog!), you know that the breaking and mending process has indeed progressed "a little longer." It is still in progress. I am thankful for a Savior who not only took my sins to the cross, but who also loves me enough to break my heart and mend it again, better still. Over and over again. I still struggle with selfish pride. I still desperately need greater humility. But I can see the progress God has made in my heart and my life, and I know "that he who began a good work in [me] will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus." (Philippians 1:6 NIV) He will work in me a little longer ... and then I'll be home. 

Thorny issues ...

I have this little problem with self-sufficiency. God blessed me with a highly logical, steel trap of a brain. I've been able to use said grey matter to excel academically and move up out of a work position that is unfortunately a dead-end for many. Between God-given insight and life experience, I've also become adept at reading people and figuring out how to best interact with or motivate them to achieve a positive outcome (be it friendship, work projects, parenting, etc.). Things don't always work out perfectly, but the odds have been in my favor more often than not. The problem with these gifts is that because the world views these as personal skills and applauds effective utilization, I find that I easily succumb to the lie that I can do these things on my own. Somewhere along the way, both my focus and my dependence shifts to my ability instead of Jesus Christ. It's no wonder then that when my ability fails to be sufficient for a given task or situation, my already distracted gaze naturally shifts to the waves instead of the Savior (where it should have been all along).


It's not that I don't know any better. God has provided ample proof of his provision that surpassed anything I could have achieved apart from him, and which, when closely examined, actually required disappointment of my own efforts (which I had in no way taken to him for guidance) to come to fruition. For example, two years ago I was extremely unhappy with my job and the future prospects with my employer given recent changes within the organization. I applied not once, but twice, for a government position that held great promise. I was highly qualified, and each time I was among those selected for consideration. Twice someone else was selected before I even got an interview. Three months after the second failed attempt, I graduated with my bachelors degree. With more free time and discussions about Eric and I beginning a family of our own, I felt moved to work toward more active involvement with the four children he already had from his previous marriage. Two months after we began taking an active role in the children's lives, I received a promotion at work that came with a generous pay increase and a new boss who continues to amaze me with her compassion and desire to give her employees a work-personal life balance that is hard to come by in our country. The raise allowed us to move from a tiny one-bedroom apartment where we'd been able to keep our monthly bills in check and work our way out of debt to a three-bedroom apartment where we could give the kids a bedroom to sleep in when they stayed over instead of the couch and a comfortable dining area instead of squeezing a folding table and six people into the living room. We knew that we (Eric especially) needed to be actively involved with the kids. Eric could not undo his past mistakes, but he had to make the effort to do the right thing going forward. Things were difficult at times. We made mistakes. God used this time in our lives to bring Eric and I back to him.We were at a loss as to what to do at times, but we knew that getting right with God was the first step toward resolution. Andrew, Eric's youngest, came to live with us in March of 2011. For two months, Eric and I took turns driving Andrew from Yulee to his school in Georgia and back again. On the days I took and picked up Andrew, I worked from home -- an option I would never have had if I had gotten that job with Uncle Sam. Ten months later, we packed up and moved 3,000 miles away from everything we'd ever known. Still,  I have my job working from home full time. Our finances could have been in dire straits had I been unable to keep my job or find one here -- or had to commute to Seattle and somehow coordinate (and afford) care for Drew before and after school when Eric is at sea. But we're not. We're richly blessed even beyond our needs. All because two years ago when I had everything all figured out, God said, "No." He knew the situation we would find ourselves in. He knew Andrew would need us. He knew we would be relocating to Washington. He provided in a way that was not only beyond my ability, but beyond my knowledge or understanding.


One would think that with his fingerprints so clearly visible in our circumstances over the last two years, that I would have finally learned to let go of my desire to do it myself, leaning on my own understanding. Ha! I am humbled by how weak and foolish I am. Even over the last two months, I have steadily slipped away. I'm not running amok or engaging in what the world would interpret as overtly sinful behavior, but I have sinned by slowly pushing him to the back burner (and sin is sin is sin). I worry instead of going to him. I get angry and feel justified in having a negative attitude because I've done so much that hasn't been acknowledged or appreciated, I've been lied about, I've gone beyond the call of duty (ahem ... by the world's standards), I've worked so hard to see my efforts thwarted, ignored or upbraided. I. Me. My. Wow. What happened to giving him glory? Who am I to take so much pride in what I've done and require earthly acknowledgement for my efforts. Didn't God clearly orchestrate the details from the very beginning? Didn't he make it possible? I have been tested, and I have failed. Miserably. The study guide was (and is) readily available, and the professor offered to walk me through the exam himself. But I wanted to do it on my own. How utterly ridiculous. How humiliating.

This has all come pouring over me today as I encountered yet another frustrating and seemingly incomprehensible situation. I make such efforts to be blameless in the face of adversity, and to approach people in a way that seems logical, reasonable, and even generous at times. I try to be considerate and appeal to the good in people, but sometimes it is to no avail. My efforts are, at best, ignored, and at worst twisted around and made out to be something malicious (which they are never intended to be). It's maddening.

While there are a number of assertions that can be made about why people act this way, for me that isn't the point. I've tried to understand and to adjust my approach accordingly, but every effort has failed. The truth is that God's job is results, my job is obedience. My problem is simply that I have depended on my ability to "fix" the situation instead of turning it over to God (oh sure, I've prayed about it time and again, but have a nasty habit of snatching it back as many times as I hand it over). As a result, although I often do or say what may in all actuality by the right thing by even his standards, my heart has not been in the right place. But it's alright to grin and bear it so long as I do the right thing, right? Not quite.

^"For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart. Nothing in all creation is hidden from God’s sight. Everything is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of him to whom we must give account."  Hebrews 4:12-13

The truth is that I have been doing the right thing (and sometimes not even that) for the wrong reasons. I am no better than anyone else. We are all sinners. We all have our hang ups. Because my heart has not been right and I have been seeking my own glory instead of his, these failed efforts have led me to become bitter and resentful toward those with whom I find myself at odds and toward certain circumstances in my life. What is there to be proud of in all of that? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. There is a reason we are to die to self.

I have discovered a thorn in my flesh. It keeps me from boasting because it is beyond my ability to overcome. It will not be taken from me. It will prove an ongoing test of my dependency on my Heavenly Father to provide the strength to overcome my fleshly weakness, to be content at his being the sole recipient of the glory, and to receive (and extend!) his grace.  

"Even if I should choose to boast, I would not be a fool, because I would be speaking the truth. But I refrain, so no one will think more of me than is warranted by what I do or say, or because of these surpassingly great revelations. Therefore, in order to keep me from becoming conceited, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. ” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong." ~ 2 Corinthians 12:6-10


"Dear friends, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that has come on you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice inasmuch as you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed." ~ I Peter 4:12-13

Lord, please forgive me for my pride, self-sufficiency, and bitterness.  Please give me compassion and a willingness to extend forgiveness and grace without discrimination, even and perhaps most especially when it is not proactively sought and when I find myself asking as Peter did, how many times I am to forgive this same offense. Help me to love with your love when I cannot muster the limited, feeble love I have to give of myself. Help me to see this thorn as a blessing as it reminds me of my dependence on you, and fill my heart with a desire to lay these worries at your feet, leaving them there and seek to speak and act in ways that will bring you glory regardless of how those words and actions may be received. Amen.

An Anniversary of Hope Renewed

Nine years ago, on May 2, 2003, I succumbed to the lies of the enemy. I attempted to take my own life to escape the seemingly endless heartache. A moment of clarity and a last minute phone call before I lost consciousness saved my life. God wasn't done with me yet.

I was a Christian at the time. I had been for many years. Some will doubt. Some will scoff. The truth is that, like many Christians and one disciple in particular, I had taken my eyes off of Jesus and instead focused on the storm. I had been gazing at that turbulent sea on and off for many years, and more relentlessly in the months preceding my overdose. I am still guilty of it: Doubt. Borrowing tomorrow's troubles. It's a daily struggle to combat the enemy's lies. Lies that invade our minds. Lies that are spoken through strangers' lips. Lies propagated even by fellow Christians, unknowingly acting as the enemy's heralds. Lies echoing in the actions of even those we love most. You are nothing. There is no hope. The pain will never end. You have no purpose. Lies.

Satan's lies prompt different actions in different people. But we can all combat those lies with God's Word. One scripture I have recently committed to memory to aid in this struggle is 2 Corinthians 10:4-5, "The weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world. On the contrary, they have divine power to demolish strongholds. We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, AND WE TAKE CAPTIVE EVERY THOUGHT TO MAKE IT OBEDIENT TO CHRIST." Every thought. Obedient to Christ, not indulgent to a liars whims. He has given us victory over the enemy, not only in an eternal sense, but here and now if we will but claim it.

While my biggest concern is sharing my experience in a way that will point to the only true source of hope (Jesus Christ), I also want to support organizations that bring this serious struggle to light and work to support those who struggle with depression, eating disorders, and other emotional problems. Sadly, I feel that many of these struggles are swept under the rug or looked down upon ("he/she doesn't have enough faith") in the Christian community at large, but I hope to one day be a part of a ministry that will reach out to these folks in a way that goes far beyond "self-help" to provide an enduring source of hope and love.

There are days ...

Written June 12, 2011 by Jen Gustafson

There are days when I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling when I wake up
As if somewhere in the awarded-to-the-lowest-bidder craftsmanship of the ceiling
Motivation to drag myself out of bed will somehow materialize.

There are days when I cry because there is nothing else
Words cannot capture the turmoil of my heart
And like an infant frustrated in its inability to convey meaning, I cry.

There are days when I want to escape
Flee the scene; give up the ghost, start over with a clean slate
Only to find that clean slates with regard to earthly consequences are on eternal backorder.

There are days when my best is not good enough
When self-reliance falls short of even my meager human expectations
And I fall flat on my face. Again.

On these days, I look anywhere else but to You
Knowing full well the Answer, the Truth, the source of Life in great abundance
But you wait. For me. You died. For me. You love. Me.

There are days when I … need to replace “I” with “You”.

A Trek through the Woods

Written November 1, 2011 by Jen Gustafson

Imagine for a moment that you and a close friend have set out on a hiking trip in a remote area. It’s a sunny, cool afternoon, perfect for a trek through the woods. As you walk you meander through a variety of conversation topics, enjoying one another’s company.

Engrossed in conversation, your friend is somewhat distracted and manages to miss a step and falls over into the brush. You rush over and help him up and brush him off. He’s fine with the exception of some scratches from a thorny bush. You take a first aid kit out of your pack and clean the scratches and put a little antibiotic ointment and bandages on the deeper ones. You both have a good chuckle at his clumsiness and get back on your way.

A little further up the path, you spot a tree with thin, supple branches.  In the past your friend has mentioned an interest in archery and constructing his own bow (he’s a bit of a naturalist).  Thinking the tree may be of interest to him for this purpose, you call him back to take a look. He responds enthusiastically. He takes out a knife and cuts a few branches to carry home, all the while thanking you for looking out for his interests.

As the day is wearing on, you both decide to start heading back to the car to head home. The light is fading and you carefully make your way through the woods, this time with you leading. All of a sudden, your friend cries out behind you. He drops to the ground, holding his leg and is calling for you in an extremely agitated manner. You run back to him and drop down beside him. He explains that he has just been bitten by a small rattlesnake. Alarmed, you take a bandana from around your neck and tie it above the bite to try to prevent the venom from spreading too quickly. The size of snake he describes concerns you as young snakes have less control of the amount of venom they release and are more likely to deliver a lethal dose. You help your friend up and have him put his arm around your neck so you can help him hobble back toward the car so you can get him help.

Soon your friend begins exhibiting signs of the poison making its way through his system. He is requiring more and more of your assistance to go on and he does not look good. You remember now that you have a dose of anti-venom in your first aid kit, but you’re uncertain how to suggest it. Your friend is extremely modest and the shot would have to be delivered in the buttock. You could help him, but it would be such an awkward situation and you’re not very comfortable administering shots anyway. Perhaps he isn’t so bad off. You’re almost to the car and once there you can get him to the emergency room fairly quickly. You decide it would be best to leave it to the professionals rather than screw it up or make your friendship awkward thereafter.

Finally reaching the car, you get your friend who is now clammy and moaning in pain into the car and take off. By the time you reach the emergency room, he is barely conscious. You run in and have the staff help you get him out of the car. Their commentary doesn’t sound good, so you reach into your pack and quickly shove the anti-venom into one of the nurse’s hands. She gives you a strange look and prepares the syringe. As she has a paramedic roll him over onto his side so she can deliver the shot, she calmly reassures your friend that you have just given her a dose of anti-venom that she is going to administer and he should be ok. The shot is administered. Several minutes go by and your friend’s condition does not improve. The nurse turns to you and asks how long ago he was bitten. You tell her. She sighs as she tells you it may be too late and that you should speak to your friend while you can. With tears in your eyes, you slump down beside your beloved friend. You’ve shared so much with him, and now he was slipping away before your very eyes. Your friend looks at you pitifully, clearly in great agony. Nearly choking on his words, he quietly asks, “Why didn’t you tell me you had the antidote?”  Then he is gone.

This story sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? If our friend were bitten by a snake and we had the remedy at hand, we would immediately administer it, wouldn’t we? Why take any chances? Sure, it might be awkward to stab our friend in the butt cheek and we may get nauseous at the sight of a needle, but wouldn’t we do whatever it takes to save our beloved friend? Of course we would! Or would we?

The Antidote

We are all on our own trek through the woods. We are in the company of friends, family, neighbors. Our trek is an all out marathon with countless participants. On this trek, however, we have all been bitten by the snake. Good news, though: There is an unlimited supply of anti-venom, no co-pay required. Some of us have already received the antidote. Unfortunately, some are putting hope in alternative medicines hoping to avoid some of the seemingly unpleasant side effects of the anti-venom. Some are fading fast, not even aware that a remedy exists. For those of us who have been treated, what are we doing? Are we rushing to the aid of those in need? Are we rescuing the dying? Or are we looking on, afraid to act?

Sin is the venom. Jesus is the anti-venom. Unlike modern healthcare, this remedy is free.

Think about your “trek”, imagining just one close friend who remains untreated. You were there, you know the suffering, but you also know the relief of the antidote, the freedom from dying.

You’re willing to lend an ear, share the weight of your friends’ temporal problems: Cleaning the wounds and applying the ointment. You’re a good friend, after all.

You are ready and willing to recommend a restaurant, an activity, or even a doctor or specialist to a friend when you think it will meet a need or spark an interest for them: You call them over to look at the supple branches they can use to construct a bow.

But what if they were dying?

Newsflash: They are.

Why is it that we will go out of our way to address our friends’ temporal needs, but we largely ignore the eternal one? Are we afraid that “pushing religion” on them will damage our friendship? Do we buy into the world’s argument for “tolerance”?  

I agree, there are those who “push religion” on people in a condescending, self-righteous manner. Often it’s a message of legalism more than a message of grace. But is that what we’re selling? You and I aren’t perfect. We are made holy through Jesus, not our own achievements (Ephesians 2:8-9). We have no grounds to boast, to judge, to look down on those “lowly sinners.” In fact, even after placing our faith in Christ, we still manage to screw up pretty often. Humbly sharing your faith with someone you love because you want them to have what you have experienced is not the same as pushing religion on someone in an effort to bring yourself glory.

And tolerance? According to the Bible, Jesus is the only way to salvation (John 14:6). How weak would our faith be if we did not believe God’s word to be true? What kind of “belief” is that? And if we do believe it, and yet we still somehow manage to buy into “tolerance” or are dissuaded from sharing our faith because of its prevalence in our society, what does that say about us? Is our reputation too important to us to risk losing, even if the cost is that our loved ones go to hell? The only tolerance we should be subscribing to is a tolerance of or patience with sinners – who are really no different from us. Is it fair to expect someone to turn from sin before they have had an opportunity to come to know the One who has overcome it? We should be offering the solution, not condemnation.