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.