Growing Up Army (Being Human pt.4)

I’m in the middle of a series of what it means to be human, and how our human-ness can be a wonderful gateway that leads us to greater relationship with our Creator. The idea is that our humanity has huge implications for our spirituality.  We live in our bodies, in our experiences, with our memories, in relationships, with pain – seeking to fill holes that our humanity opens up. 

How could we not meet Jesus in these places?

So I’ve been looking at a few of the shaping forces in my life through this lens, that maybe I might find some clues in it of how I can relate to Jesus more personally, more dynamically, more passionately. (Maybe stirring some thoughts for you in this direction as well.) Growing up an army brat was huge for me. And even to this day, it is a bit emotional for me to write about.

Let me share with you some of what I randomly, and in no particular order, remember about my childhood.

By the time I graduated from college, my family had lived in at least 15 different places. (Related story here.) The longest I lived anywhere before leaving home was Germany. I went to 4 different elementary schools, 3 different high schools in 3 different states and moved 4 times from 8th grade to my junior year. The high school I graduated from, Ft. Campbell High School, is one of only two in the nation comprised only of military kids. I’ll never go to a high school reunion because we all scattered after graduation. I am not friends on Facebook with one person I knew before the age of 18. Before I was 13 I had crossed over Checkpoint Charlie into Communist East Berlin several times, skied the Alps, seen the Mona Lisa and Sistene Chapel, gone to mass at the Vatican, traveled to Paris for the weekend with a bunch of neighborhood kids and got caught in the middle of an Anti-American demonstration, where protestors threw hollowed out eggs filled with paint and the very scary German riot police released their dogs on a woman. I remember coming home from Germany, visiting a friend and trying to describe what my life had been like. She not only couldn’t understand, she didn’t even care.  My dad was gone my entire 4th grade year to Saudi Arabia and frequently gone for weeks at at time for training. It wasn’t unusual at all for our phone ring at all hours of the night so people could get a hold of him. When we lived on base I knew where everyone lived because the neighborhoods were segregated by rank and everyone had their name on a sign outside the door. At 5pm every day, traffic stopped all across the base as everyone paid their respects to the flag. Every movie I went to on base began with the playing of the national anthem. I still sometimes think it is weird when I go to a ‘normal’ movie theater and they don’t play it. I’ve sat through countless military functions, parades and rituals – holiday meals at the mess hall, change-of-commands, hail and farewells, etc. When I was young, the worst thing you could call someone was a hippie. I didn’t grow up playing cowboys and Indians. I played war. I learned to play basketball well by joining pick up games with the soldiers at one of many gyms on base. Once, I  got matched up man to man with the general in charge of the 101st Airborne Division because none of the soldiers wanted to guard him. I fouled excessively that game because I knew no warrior was going to admit to being pushed around by a girl.

This was my normal growing up. This is part of my story, part of what God chose to put in my life at an early age. It is part of what makes me who I am today, part of my human-ness, that part of me that ties me to life here on earth as a flesh and blood person with experiences, memories, personality, pain, etc.  I am very proud of it and treasure my memories and experiences, even the ones that hurt.

As I look back, I am wondering, “Is it possible that my past contains some clues to my future, to how God has wired me to relate to Him? Could it be that my life story isn’t random, but a carefully calculated move on His part to lead me somewhere and to enable me to know Him through it in a very special and personal way?”  (Acts 17:26-27)

When I look at this list several themes come to mind. Change. Lots of change. Loss. Loneliness. Adventure. A distinct sub-culture that valued tradition, men (women in a secondary role), conformity, mission, mission above individuals, stoicism, sacrifice, honor, war and patriotism.  Seeing some of the holes in my heart isn’t really that hard. Seeing some of the potential bridges for Jesus to make His way into my heart isn’t either.

If you sat down and made a similar list – a list of what you remember of your childhood and thought perfectly normal at the time…what words would emerge that describe it? Could you identify something that affects who you are and how you relate to God today because of it? Maybe there is something there for you to explore that just might lead you to a new level of relationship with the One who planned it all out.

Being Human and Meeting God There ( pt. 1)

These days I’m thinking about identity. Mine. And how to walk skillfully with others into fully discovering theirs. This is very important stuff  as God speaks quite a bit about who He is and who we are in relation to Him. In fact, if we could learn to nail down those two things, I suspect most of our issues would work themselves out with a lot less drama. As a result, I am diving into powerful truth here, one that seems obvious in theory, but can be much more complicated as it works its way out in reality.

God speaks to me in my humanity. I know this because He not only made humans, He made me human. Which is a little different from being a human. One is an adjective, the other a noun. “That human over there has a heart.”(noun) “To be human is to have a heart.” (adjective) I’m talking about the adjective. God made us human. That means pain. Poop. Family joy and drama. Complicated emotions and desires. Limitations. Sin and its devastating consequences. Bodies and wonderful physical sensations. Food. Memories. Heartbreak. Not being able to stop smiling when you see something smile-worthy.

And when Jesus wanted to communicate His identity to us most clearly, He became not just a human, but human. Sharing all our human-ness. So we would understand and know Him, who isn’t. (Col. 1:15)

The longer I walk with Jesus, the more I find that the most vibrant, most life-giving, most satisfying and honestly, most supernatural interactions I have with Him flow from my humanity: when His divinity slams right into the middle of my humanity. My flesh. My heart. My reality. My mess and general messiness. My sin and all the damage it has wreaked in my life and others. And when I bring my human-ness to Him, with gut-wrenching honesty, with genuine humility, the craziest things happen: sanctification, spiritual fruit in my life, ministry to others.

While there is great power in a heart that longs for eternity, there is also great power in a life that is firmly and rightly anchored here and now on earth. This is where we live and this is where He meets with us. Who I am, who God has made me to be, what shaping events and forces Jesus has allowed and used in my life to lead me to where I am today…they are an intricate part of how I relate to Him.  And my relationship with Him is everything.

I’ve often said, especially to the young university girls who some how keep ending up on my couch, talking about God’s will for their lives, “If you want to know where a road is going, look at where its been.” It is generally true of roads, it is generally true of people’s lives. Looking back can often provide powerful clues to where we are going. I-75 runs north-south. I-20 runs east-west. They may take a sudden dramatic turn due to a hill, body of water or another road converging, but they inexorably return to their original heading. Sometimes, with there always being exceptions, I think this is something of how our lives work as well. Who I have been and who I am provide a lot of clues to who I can become.

Of course, following Jesus leads us in a 180 degree turn from where our sin was leading us. But our sin isn’t the only thing leading us. God’s providence moves us all – in our families, significant relationships, nationality, place in history, personalities, giftings, dreams, education, experiences. (Acts 17:26-27) While Jesus leads us out of our sin, He also leads us into more of who He made us to be, in all its beautiful, multi-layered complexities. That is the journey of sanctification, maturity, discipleship, restoration, healing.

So I’m working through a series of thoughts I want to explore for a bit on the blog. They are some of the shaping forces that have made me who I am today: because out of that is where I meet with Him. Out of my humanity, my human-ness, that is where I meet Him. And while the truth I’ll be writing about is framed in my story, my hope is that you will find something of yours in it as well. Maybe you’ll recognize something God has placed in your human-ness, to point you to Him.

I’m going to start with my experiences of being an adult third culture kid and army brat. How I grew up has had some tremendous implications for what my present looks like. And, in true Deanna-fashion, I plan on doing it in a bit of a non-linear, hopefully creative and rather unexpected way. Hope you’ll come along for the ride.

Mrs. Ready – Friend, Mentor and Spiritual Mom

I was so new to teaching I didn’t even know what I didn’t know yet. It was right before the school year was to begin and I was preparing lesson plans for my 8th grade earth science and high school chemistry classes. (I still can’t believe someone actually hired me to teach chemistry. Wonders never cease.) And like most new teachers, I was alternately nervous and excited, both affirmed that I’d made the right career choice and horrified that it was too late to back out now.

And into this mess, (both my professional situation and me personally) Mrs. Ready walked in. She was the math teacher down the hall with decades more experience than I would ever have.  She introduced herself and began discretely asking me questions. “Do you know how you will organize your grade book? Have you given thought to your seating chart? What sort of classroom management plan do you have?”  She clearly saw that I needed help. Lots of it. And that day began a great friendship.

Every Monday morning, she gathered the women teachers together for prayer – and watching her I learned so much about building community, recognizing pain in another’s heart, the power of group prayer, ministering just by being. Mrs. Ready had a calm and gentle spirit about her that invited others in. (Unless you asked when you would ever use algebra in the real world…That question would send her through the roof… and it was actually quite fun to watch…)

Through the years I taught school we ate lunch together most every day and she became my go-to person for most of my many, many questions – both teaching and faith related. In fact, in the midst of one of the greatest emotional and spiritual crises of my life, she spoke some of the most significant words that another person has ever spoken into my heart and life. (Story here) I wouldn’t be the wife, mom, Bible teacher, writer, minister or woman I am today without her steady and faithful influence in my life.

After a bunch of years in discipleship-oriented ministries, I now recognize what she was subtly doing, most of it without my even realizing it. She was mentoring me. Spiritually mothering me would probably be a better title for it. And she did it without the title, without an officially declared relationship or agenda, without books, materials or a specific meeting schedule.

I’m sure I wasn’t the first young woman she did this for, and I’m also sure I wasn’t the last. I know this because love like that flows from the heart, not a job description. I suspect she couldn’t not do it if she tried.  And as the years pass, I’ve found myself mirroring her style, often without even realizing it.

Our lives have since diverged, she remaining faithfully in the classroom, me on to motherhood, the mission field and teaching of a different kind. But oh how I wish all young women had a Mrs. Ready in their lives! And oh, how I wish more older women would become Mrs. Readys for this generation! So today, as I look back at the time in my life when she and I walked side by side through the high school hallways, I am so thankful at how God allowed our lives to intersect, even if only for a few years. I am not the same because of it.

Dangerous Times

Proverbs 15:22 Plans fail for lack of counsel, but with many advisers they succeed.

Proverbs 27:12 The prudent see danger and take refuge, but the simple keep going and suffer for it.

My dad, who was both a fixed wing and helicopter pilot in the army, once told me something very interesting about pilots. He told me that the most dangerous time for a pilot, that season of their professional lives when they are most likely to have a flight accident is not during the first few years out of flight school, when they are young and inexperienced. And it isn’t during the last few years of their careers, when they are old and perhaps tired or overconfident. The most dangerous time for a pilot is the years in between those two extremes.

My father explained that new pilots are hyper-vigilant, constantly aware of the weight of the responsibility they bear. Younger pilots tend to go to extremes of caution to make up for their lack of experience. They checklist everything, ask for help and keep their eyes wide open for potential mistakes. On the other hand, older pilots have years of flying under their belt. They know the dangers of their field and have probably known pilots who have had accidents. They know how to solve most problems they will face, know when to ask for help and aren’t too proud to do so. They, like their young counterparts, are also statistically safe.

New pilots are cautious. Old pilots are experienced.

The most dangerous pilots are those in between new and old, who are neither cautious nor experienced. These are the pilots who have been flying long enough for the initial fear to wear off, but not long enough to realize they don’t know everything. Lack of caution plus arrogance equals mistakes. And in an airplane, that can be disastrous.

Married people follow the same pattern. Couples are never more aware of the health of their marriage and willing to learn and change than during that first year. And couples who have survived and thrived after decades of marriage obviously understand what it takes to successfully live with and love another person.

It’s those couples in the in-between years who are most often in danger. They have been together long enough to become  comfortable. Over the years, blind spots and tolerance for unhealthy habits form. The edge of fear and newness wears off. At the same time, they’ve been married long enough to feel like they know more about marriage than they actually do. They might even be afraid to ask for help as it would be a sign of weakness.

It appears to me that the same is true of those in the Christian faith. New believers are so passionate, so teachable and so energetic, dying to make their faith work. They ask questions and listen to counsel. And older believers have collected wisdom and experience that both protects and yields fruit in their lives. The ones most in danger are those who have walked with God long enough to think they know something about walking with God, but not long enough to realize that they don’t know much at all. When crises come, they leave too soon, choose poorly and don’t ask for help until it is too late.

The application? Humility and help! Awareness of the reality of my situation and internal condition. Asking people to look at areas of my life, where they might have clearer vision and offer constructive comments. And endurance. Keeping on, doing wise things and being open to learning more, in both my marriage and my faith. I want to make it to those years where I might actually know something about what I’m doing.

Reflections On Truths Learned This Past Year

The year 2011 broke my life in two, with a distinct before and after. Frankly, I’m just glad to still be here, standing and breathing. There have been days I wasn’t so sure that would happen. And some days the haze of uncertainty and fear lingers. So I wanted to take a moment and reflect, to summarize something of what I’ve learned through it all.

What's that? God calling? I'll take it in here...and I'll probably be a while...

Jesus has been incredibly faithful to lead me to all sorts of places with Him I never would have chosen to go on my own. And ‘grateful’ isn’t even the right word to use to describe how I feel about it. But since it is all I have at this point, it is what I’ll use.

So, in an effort to capture something of my gratitude, here are some of the realizations and truths that have become a part of my soul in this last year:

1. My heart is a bigger mess than I ever thought. As Jesus and I have been walking around its corridors and exploring its depths, what I am finding has been both horrifying and a relief. The depth of my messiness, of my sin and its consequences has been overwhelming at times. But as the chips have fallen, I realize I really do love Him. There have been days when I’ve completely lost my balance, yet I’ve consistently fallen in His direction – and the ground where He stands is solid. So I am a mess. But at least I know now I am more fully His mess. And another thing I’m learning first hand is that redeeming messes is one of His specialties.

2. As big a mess as my heart is, that is what He really wants. That I’ve known this truth, even taught it over the years and still missed it in my own life…I am ashamed. Jesus doesn’t want my works. He doesn’t want my words. (Although of course, at some point and level He expects my works and words.) He first and foremost wants my heart. He wants my love and affection. He wants my life pointed in His direction because that is the direction I want to go, not because I’m afraid of going in the other direction. He wants to renew, restore and rebuild me from the inside out, not teach me to conform to a cultural standard that looks pretty on the outside but is rotten on the inside. Learning to move my spirituality more fully to the realm of the heart has been a huge shift for me this year. A frustrating one because no one sees it but Him and me…and a painful one because it is so much work…but a rewarding one because of how it makes the ground beneath my feet more solid.

3. If all I ever am is His, it is enough. Without realizing it and while simultaneously knowing in my head the opposite is true, I’ve established a pattern of relating to Him through what I do. As innocently as it started and as good as my motives have been at times, I’ve been trying to prove myself to Him, to earn His favor and to subtly keep Him distant by setting up our relationship within a business context. I do this, therefore He does that.  It is taking a season of not working for Him to re-set this truth deep in my heart – that He loves me just for me. Not for what I do or accomplish. My greatest goal and deepest desire is to be His – more fully, more intimately, more deeply. And if that is all I ever accomplish in my life, it is not only ok, it is wonderful.

4. He sets the agenda, I don’t. Yes, I knew this before this year, but I think I can look back and see that functionally, I came to Him wanting to pick and choose how I serve and relate to Him. And He has absolutely refused to play along. He has reasserted His authority in my life to set the agenda of what we talk about, how we relate, the speed with which we move and everything else about my relationship with Him. He has called me to repentance and to a season of learning just to walk alongside Him wherever He goes. To listen. To ask questions. To follow. It has been so refreshing in its restfulness. I make a terrible god. Yet He does it so effortlessly.

Funny how, at one of the high points of my year, a trip to Europe to teach, minister, network and even hike for an afternoon in the Alps, there was a storm brewing in the background.

5. For someone whose life’s work revolves around people, I have terrible people skills. In fact, recently I floated the idea in my heart that I am done with friendship. (Material for a later post) I know that really isn’t an option…and I’m sure I don’t really mean it…and I know how I feel in a few months will be different from how I feel about it now…and I really do have the friends I’ll have for the rest of my life and they are wonderful…and  I know part of what this season is about is me learning to truly make Jesus my best friend (and not the cheesy Sunday School version of this)…but that I’ve so struggled over the years with what should be the most basic of human functions has worried me a bit. And I find it pathetic that I’m as old as I am and still trying to figure how to relate to others well.

6. My internal monologue needs a lot of work. On the positive side, I am learning to embrace my honest, brutally honest, excruciatingly honest internal monologue – and out of it two great things are emerging. First, I am learning quite a bit about myself; where I am wounded, where I am gifted and something of where I will go in the future. And second Jesus and I have had so many amazing faith-confirming and encouraging conversations; where He has actually spoken into my greatest doubts, struggles and pain, where I’ve gotten satisfying answers to those things that have kept me from truly engaging Him with depth. I guess you could say my internal monologue, unhealthy as it is, has actually been a very healthy thing for my spirit this year. It has driven and led me to more of Jesus and greater intimacy with Him. But the thoughts that still just randomly pop into my head…lets just say some days I am concerned about where this stuff comes from. And I hate that so often it is the soundtrack that plays behind much of my life.

7. Jesus is…well, He is more than I ever thought. I thought quite a bit of Him before this year began and He and I certainly weren’t strangers then. Yet…I am continually surprised at the paths He chooses to lead me down. Not linear. Not expected. Glacial and circuitous. Jesus has caused me greater pain than I thought I could endure, yet brought healing I never knew I needed. He has forced me to learn to engage Him on His terms, to repent of deeply ingrained things, to redefine so much of my life…and still…it has been the greatest thing that has ever happened to me. He has been the greatest thing that has ever happened to me. And I hope and pray I never get over this…this year that almost killed me. Jesus still has me moving in His direction…and that means there just might be hope for me in 2012 yet.

Heart Stuff pt. 8 – Navigating the Unfamiliar

The heart is challenging territory and exploring its depths is a beautiful challenge for those who want Jesus to live there. It is the core of who we are. God created us with hearts, speaks to us through them, longs to make them whole and blesses us with His presence in them. And in certain seasons of life, He invites us to look around and see what lurks and lies hidden (and sometimes not so hidden) there.

Romantics know its terrain well, as do those with gifts of mercy and compassion. Over the years I’ve met some people with such emotional health and warmth – they just know how to love, be loved, relate well, be honest with their feelings, understand something of their motives, confess their sin and still know they are forgiven and wanted by the Savior, etc. I love these people. Would like to be one of them one day too. Sigh.

Intellectuals though, those with less emotional vocabulary and sensitivities have a harder time navigating its depths. These folks are the ones who lean into their heads. They often think spiritual maturity is found in books. In knowledge. I have spent most of my adult life as one of these people. Sigh. We justify and differentiate ourselves from our ‘heart-led’ brethren by saying stupid things like, “Well, I’m not emotional.” (Yeah, right.) Or, “I use my brain more than my heart.” (As if they are mutually exclusive.) Or, “I don’t have the gift of mercy.” (As if that makes it ok to be an insensitive jerk – cause you know, God made me that way.)

So, recognizing my inherent weakness in this area, I’m making this is a topic of great study. (ha ha – intellectually studying the emotional heart…yes, I’m pathetic, I know…) In doing so, I’m learning some interesting things about the process of digging into this vital and life-giving part of my life. Thought I’d share them here in bullet point form.

Navigating The Terrain Of The Heart:

• Brutal honesty is a key navigation tool. There are days I really like to lie to others and myself. Oh, I do it subtly enough. Usually cloak it somehow, under humility, self-effacing humor. Sometimes I prefer to blame others and point fingers, but the result is the same. I am trying to minimize that which I am responsible for and make me look less bad than I actually am. What I’ve found is that I’ve got to be brutally honest about what is going on in my heart. Am I angry? Sad? Disappointed? If I don’t name the emotion properly, no matter how embarrassing or revealing it may be, then what I do with it will almost always be wrong. Which leads me to my next point…
• Find a travel buddy. Just like you should never swim alone, you shouldn’t really go in to the heart for extended periods completely alone. Sometimes looking at heart stuff is like looking at clouds with a friend and trying to find shapes in them. “I see a bunny!” And your travel buddy says, “Are you crazy? That is clearly a John Deere tractor!” The equivalent might be, “I’m angry!” And your friend says, “Are you crazy? You are terrified!” My point is, having another point of view can open your eyes to things you would never see on your own. And back to the first point, it doesn’t do any good if you lie to your travel buddy. We need their honest evaluations.
• Jesus gets to lead the exploration. Unfortunately, I think many folks approach their hearts like they do most other things in their lives: with their agendas, expecting Jesus to join right in and follow their lead. Yeah, about that…Jesus doesn’t follow our lead. And the sooner we drop our expectations, our right to choose our speed, destination, etc. the sooner we actually get somewhere. Sort of like when my 10-year-old sits behind the wheel of our parked car. It is sort of cute and all, but we aren’t going anywhere till he gets in his seat. I know this because I’ve begun digging in to my heart and said something like, “Jesus, lets talk about my anger issues.” And He’s said, “Actually, I want to talk about your idolatry. And until we deal with that, we aren’t going anywhere.” And I have the choice at that moment to get brutally honest with myself and my travel buddy, or lie and stop all forward progress.
• Pack some snacks. I suggest this tongue-in-cheek because the journey to whatever is going on in your heart can be a glacial, circuitous one that can take a long, long time. Well, I guess Jesus shows up in some people’s lives and gets right to the heart of the matter and conforms them to His likeness overnight…but that sure hasn’t been my experience. Instead, the sanctification process in my life tends to move much slower than I like or want. And I’m learning how to slow down and keep up all at the same time.

Thoughts On Job – Be Afraid. Be Very Afraid.

“But he stands alone, and who can oppose him? He does whatever he pleases. He carries out his decree against me, and many such plans he still has in store. That is why I am terrified before him; when I think of all this, I fear him. God has made my heart faint; the Almighty has terrified me.” Job 23:13-15

Job, I am with you on this. God scares the bejeebies out of me too. 

How to relate to a God who holds all the power, meaning I am utterly helpless before Him? Who is under no obligation to explain Himself or His plans to me? Who has demonstrated that there are times when He chooses not to intervene and allows really, really bad things to happen? Even to those He says He loves? To Job? To me?

Years ago, while driving in the car, we heard our 5-year-old son in the backseat start crying. When we asked him what was wrong he said, “I’m afraid. I’m afraid of God. He’s going to eat me.”

Context: we had recently been talking a lot with him about how big God is, about how powerful He is, about how omniscient, omnipotent, omnipresent…you get the picture. And my little theologian did the math and figured out that a really really big God like that meant he was really really small. So he was afraid. Very afraid.

Fortunately for us, our 4-year-old daughter was also in the car at the time and she just laughed. “Jeffrey,” she said, “God’s not going to eat you. He’s good.” Out of the mouths of babes.

Yes, we all know God is good. But some days the words of Job and my son speak something very deep and true from my heart – I’m afraid that God is going to eat me. I am afraid of God. There, I said it. 

Not exactly the Sunday School answer you were expecting, huh? In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ve got teeth marks in my backside from whole seasons of my life where He’s nibbled and chewed on me pretty good. And there are times when what I feel overpowers what I know…when my circumstances scream contrary things to what my faith whispers… When my God is absolutely terrifying. And my heart is faint within me.

No wonder God says over and over again, “Fear not.” “Do not be afraid.” “Be strong and courageous.” Of course our natural reaction to Him should contain a good dose of healthy fear. Respect. Worship. He’s in charge. We are not. That is the beautiful order of things. I get it.

But the real question, the one I’m wrestling with, is how do I take commands like that – that sound so easy in theory and make for really pretty  songs to sing on Sunday - and let them actually comfort my broken, fearful heart the rest of the week?

How do I learn to love a God who makes me tremble?

Thoughts On Isaac – What Does It Feel Like To Be Sacrificed?

Gen. 22:6-7 Abraham took the wood for the burnt offering and placed it on his son Isaac, and he himself carried the fire and the knife. As the two of them went on together,  Isaac spoke up and said to his father Abraham, “Father?” “Yes, my son?” Abraham replied. “The fire and wood are here,” Isaac said, “but where is the lamb for the burnt offering?”

Gen. 22:9-10 When they reached the place God had told him about, Abraham built an altar there and arranged the wood on it. He bound his son Isaac and laid him on the altar, on top of the wood.  Then he reached out his hand and took the knife to slay his son.

A Rembrandt sketch of the event. I prefer that it isn't finished. Even the lines scare me.

If you aren’t familiar with this story, it is powerful and I recommend reading it in its entire context in Genesis 22. The short version is that after decades of working in his life, God asks Abraham to take his son Isaac, whom he loves, who is a miraculous answer to prayer and sacrifice him with his own hands. At the last possible minute, with the knife in his hand to murder his boy, an angel of the Lord stops Abraham. Yeah. What to make of this God who asks the unthinkable?

Over the years, I’ve heard many varied explanations about what God was up to and what He was trying to accomplish in Abraham’s life. Honestly, I’m not all that interested in either of those those things. What I’m wrestling with and thinking about right now is a part of the story I’ve heard almost no one explore. I want to know how Isaac felt. Not a neat, sterile theological explanation…but what did it feel like to be sacrificed? By someone you love. And trust. To have someone else’s mission valued above your life. Military kids often know. Missionary and ministry kids often know.

Both Abraham and Isaac had mountaintop experiences. But very, very different ones. While Isaac also experienced God’s deliverance, he first experienced being kept deliberately in the dark about what was about to happen, BEING BOUND BY HIS FATHER, put on the altar and watching his dad raise the knife to slay him. His dad was willing to kill him in order to obey God. I can only imagine the issues that raised in his heart. God-induced terror, God-induced sacrifice. Seems to me like a lot of information about Isaac is missing from the story.

I can guess how I would feel in the situation: used, abused, hurt, like a pawn in some bigger game. I think I would wrestle with feelings of ” God must love my dad more than me.” Or, “God was willing to sacrifice me. Looks like I’m clearly on the B team.” and “No matter what God’s word says, just how valuable can I be? I was sacrificed.” I don’t think there would be time or money enough for all the therapy I would need to emotionally recover.

Did Isaac spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder for the next time God would set him up? Did he wrestle with questions of his faith and self-worth as a result of being placed on the altar by both God and his dad? Did he have serious trust issues with everyone else he met? Fear issues? Did he ever go for a walk with his dad in the wilderness again? (I don’t think I would.) Did he ever go to worship God in the wilderness again? (I’d hesitate here too. And I’d certainly never go with my kids.) Did the sacrifice time at future worship events forever make him shudder?

I’m realizing that I’ve felt like Isaac at different times in my life. Used. Abused. Hurt. Like a pawn in some bigger God-game. I look back at traumatic, painful life-shaping events in my life and wonder not only where God was in that… but exactly what kind of God is He? Do I really matter so little to Him? Look how He loves other people more than me. Why would I trust Him going forward? Do I really want to get to know Him better if this is how he treated me when I didn’t know Him very well?

Big questions. No lightening yet either. (Selah)

And surprisingly, what I’m learning deep in my heart, in the midst of spiritual angst, is that God is not only present when it appears someone is getting the royal shaft. He is loving in that moment too.

Profound. And so complicated. So incredibly complicated.

I can see why scripture doesn’t record this aspect of the story. Isaac’s point of view on the sacrifice of his life cannot be grasped in a sound bite or even a paragraph. It isn’t for those who like their Christianity in alliterated 3 point sermons and fill in the blank outlines. This is about the messy intersection of where God’s plans and our will collide, where our theology meets our emotion, where our hearts explode with doubt and our heads scramble to put the pieces back together.

Profound. And so complicated. So incredibly complicated.

Sometimes Our Feelings Are Our Friends (A) (Heart Stuff pt.6)

I wrote  a previous blog entry in this series entitled  Feelings Aren’t Always Our Friend. It got a good response because I know it spoke to the truth of a common experience – that sometimes our feelings run amok with our lives and lead us to ignore what we know to be true. We’ve all been hijacked before by an uncontrolled thought, an illogical feeling, a mood that we can’t explain but knocks us out of commission. But I also know that sometimes we prefer to deal with our thoughts and ignore our feelings because thoughts can be boxed up so nicely. Emotions however, are messy. And our Western society has branded them as weak and, while not completely irrelevant, definitely something to be dealt with quietly and privately. So I wanted to come back to that idea a bit to clarify – because sometimes our feelings are our friend.

A hypothetical example to flesh this out:

A friend is running late and I get angry. I mean, over the top angry – more than is justified for a 10 minute wait. My first thought might be ‘shame on me’, because I’ve given an emotion… a “bad” emotion, full expression. (If God gave me my emotions, is there really such a thing as a bad one? Let’s come back to that in another post.)  Maybe there is a good reason they are late. Maybe this experience is surfacing impatience and is a call for me to focus on this character flaw. Maybe I need to extend grace just like I would want to receive it if I were the one running late. All these scenarios just might be true. But what if I dig a bit deeper….

What if, in the midst of the whirlwind I slow down and ask Jesus, “Why am I so angry? It is only 10 minutes. This isn’t a big deal.” And what if I realize, “What I’m actually feeling here isn’t impatience but not being valued.” Um, that’s an unexpected turn.

And what if I follow the rabbit trail just a bit more and ask, “What is it about not being valued that has set me off so much?” And what if I realize, “This just confirms how I actually feel about myself. This is pushing on a much bigger bruise that has been hiding just under the surface for a while.”

So I continue on, quieting my soul and asking, “How can I not value myself when Jesus has so clearly valued me. His Word promises me that He values me. ” (See the head/heart conflict between what I know and how I feel?) And what if I realize, “Because I don’t want to run the risk of not being valued, I’m going to try to be super valuable to others.” Or, “Because I don’t want to run the risk of not being valued, I’m going to engineer my life so that I don’t become vulnerable to others.”

Yeah, this just got much more complicated, didn’t it?

Continuing on, searching what my feelings are telling me, asking Jesus to speak to me, I realize that I’m not really angry at my friend for running late. I’m really an idolater who worships control, and my idol just let me down. I couldn’t control something, someone. And my anger has just exposed me as an idolater. I hate it when that happens.

In fact, if I wanted to keep following this trail,I could probably spend quite a bit of time tracing back, looking for the root of why I long for control and why, by extension, I don’t trust God. But by this time my friend just arrived and the line at Starbucks isn’t getting any shorter. And while my feelings are indeed my friend, sometimes it is nice to get a little time apart.

The heart is such complicated terrain. No wonder we prefer dealing with our heads. And no wonder scripture says, “The purposes of a man’s heart are deep waters, but  a man of understanding draws them out.” (Pr. 20:5) And “The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it?” (Jer. 17:9)

In this scenario, my feelings…my anger…what I normally consider a “bad” emotion, just exposed something much bigger than a minor irritation. My feelings just led me to a deep-seated sin that will destroy my relationship with Jesus, and by extension those around me that I love. In this case, my feelings turned out to be a very good friend and a very accurate spiritual indicator of a very significant problem.

It makes me wonder how many of us are ignoring and misusing this wonderful gift by leaning so far into our intellect that we relegate our feelings to the realm of red-headed stepchild? Sometimes our feelings can be a wonderful friend.

When Your Trajectory Changes

20 years later and still a profound influence in my life.

(Today, in honor of Thanksgiving, I am thankful for the ways God has directed my paths.)

Pr. 13:14 The teaching of the wise is a fountain of life, turning a man from the snares of death.

Pr. 13:20 He who walks with the wise grows wise…

Sometimes there are events and the trajectory of your life changes profoundly as a result. Sometimes those events are negative. A trauma. A crisis.  The phone call. The really bad choice. Someone else’s really bad choice. A painful event that if you were to think about, still makes you wince today – even though it may have happened years ago. I’ve had several of those in my life. Forks in the road where my path was chosen for me. And I wanted to take the other path. Sigh. 

Sometimes however there are positive things that alter our trajectories and push us towards happier endings. Beth is one of those women who altered my life’s trajectory at a really critical time in a really positive way.

We were students together at North Georgia College forever ago, she just a bit ahead of me academically and light years ahead of me maturity-wise. (As is still the case, by the way.) Both of us were active in the Baptist Student Union, both lived on the same hall in the dorm and had many mutual friends.

One day Beth came to me and while I forget the exact words, said something like this, “Deanna, what would you think if we spent some time together. Intentional time. Where we talked about the Bible, prayed…that kind of thing.”

We met together regularly for the rest of the year. We talked. We prayed. We studied. We watched movies. Ate meals. She found conferences she thought I’d be interested in and took me. I even got to go to her wedding. And while I know she taught me many things through her words, wisdom and example, what I really heard that day and through our subsequent time together was, “Deanna, I see potential in you. And I’d like to come alongside you for a bit and help us see who God might be calling you to be. Would you let me be a part of building the future-you, ’cause I think it just might be good.”

Let me be honest here, I was a mess at 19 years old. (Regular readers of this blog and friends of mine might say, “Um, was…?”) Talk about looking back and wincing. Ouch. When I look back at my life at that time, it could have gone in any number of ways. Most of them bad. For Beth to see any potential in me at all, she must have been looking very, very hard. With extra special lenses. Maybe even with professional help. Or maybe some of the older girls in our circle of friends got together and made a bet – who could find the most clueless girl, the hardest case, the most unlikely to succeed…and she drew me. I don’t know how it played out on her end (I should ask her sometime…) but I do know how it played out on mine.

Our relationship changed the trajectory of my life. She believed in me. Invested in me. Spent time with me. Watched me make bad choices. Patiently helped me learn to make better ones. Taught me that I should go forward and do the same in the lives of the younger women I would meet in the future. I can look back now at that brief conversation and see that it was a pivotal moment for me, for my development, for my walk with Jesus, for my ministry and for who I am today.

Someone believed in me. Wanted to be with me. Saw who I could be, not just who I was.

Beth has been in campus ministry for years, and now works near a large university where she is replaying this scenario out in the lives of the many young women who are blessed to be in her sphere of influence.

Has someone ever done this for you? Have you ever done this for someone else? Today I am thankful someone did this for me.

What In The World Is My Problem pt. 5 – Energy Management

If you’ve been following this series, I’m blogging about my problem(s) – not the day to day things that cause headaches or irritations or inconveniences. No, I’m blogging about some of those deeply seated things, those heart things that gnaw and dig and recur to the point that they are almost a part of who I am. Using a spiritual vocabulary, these would be some of my ‘besetting sins‘. They are the challenges that have somehow become ingrained as a part of my very attitudnal DNA. They are bigger than things like, “I run late alot”, or “I make an irritating clicking noise with my tongue when I am nervous.” They are a part of who I am and they chronically cause me great pain.

But I don’t want them to be a part of who I am!  I’ve discovered that the surest way to address those things in the heart that hide, fester and damage is to open them to the light. Since I need to get a good look at what is going on in there so God and I can begin to really work on them together, I’m venting them here. And since I know my blog is a relatively private place:), I’m pretty sure my thoughts are safe here. If you are into train wrecks, feel free to review my personal issues in previous entries here, here, here and here). If not, let me continue…

Maybe I’m getting older and my body just doesn’t recover as fast as it used to. Maybe there has been a confluence of crises in my life that has forced this to the surface. Maybe this issue has been building steam in my life over the last very busy, very stressful and rather unhappy year. Either way, I’m learning a very valuable life lesson right now. I’ve got to learn to conserve my energy.

I have an energy management problem – and I’m not talking about turning off the lights or doing less laundry. I’m talking about how I pace myself. I’m talking about the schedule I keep and the way I let my calendar treat my body. One of the things I’ve got to learn to do better is to pace myself and to create bigger rest margins in my life.

My general pattern is to go, go, go …until I can’t go anymore. The take a nap and go some more. Evidently I’ve got a pretty big supply of adrenaline that I can tap into rather easily. And that used to work for me. But it isn’t working anymore. Now I go, go, go…until I literally can’t go anymore. And then I crash, get sick, enter a spiritual crisis, flirt with depression, run the risk of wounding my family, etc. 

Let me preface this by saying I know I can’t always control what happens in my life. Some seasons are just busy and there really isn’t anything more I can do about it than go into management mode. But on the other hand, I also know I sometimes create seasons of busyness. I over plan, not paying attention to what other people in my family have going on. I don’t say no to some things I should. I give in to pride, thinking that I can manage what I’ve seen conquer other people.

Exhaustion resulting from poor planning doesn’t honor God. Self-inflicted wounds from too much busyness or a lack discipline to rest and recharge isn’t selflessness or something to be proud of. It is a sin. I am failing to take care of what God has entrusted to me. As I get older, more people depend on me to be healthy and able to serve. If it strengthens me in the long run, it can be great act of love when I take that nap, chill out on a weekend, sit on the couch and watch episodes of Swamp People while eating lots of popcorn with my hubby or choose to read a book for pleasure just because I want to.

Managing my energy level has moved beyond just something that is good to do. It is now in to the realm of a mandatory spiritual discipline.

Unconventional Marks of Spiritual Maturity – Response to leadership

Heb. 13:17 Obey your leaders and submit to them, for they keep watch over your souls as those who will give an account. Let them do this with joy and not with grief, for this would be unprofitable for you.

How someone responds to leadership says a lot about their spiritual maturity. I know some people who always have a better idea, who always have to give their input no matter how uninvited it is, who can always come up with a scathingly and brutally honest critique of someone else’s work and describe exactly what is wrong with it, often in excruciating detail. They love to deconstruct and analyze a leader’s motives, skills, decisions, performance, words and giftings.

But they don’t want to lead themselves. For them, the back seat is much better than the front seat. They have a season pass to the peanut gallery. Rather than getting their hands dirty and choosing to play the game with everyone else, they want to wear the referee’s stripes and blow the whistle at every slight infraction, at every play that doesn’t meet with their approval.

Rather than getting in the mix of things and deciding to play themselves, to be part of the solution, they choose, even if it is through passivity to be part of the problem. In short, these are the people who are a pain in the neck to lead. They are like the goats you have to lead down the road, who dig in their heels and refuse to move. Their stubbornness soaks up large amounts of energy that could be directed in other more positive directions and slows everyone else’s forward movement.

I think it says a lot about a person’s spiritual maturity by how they respond to leadership. Do leaders like to see you coming in to a group, on a team or as part of a project assignment? Do you proactively seek to find your place in a group, figuring out where you can contribute the greatest amount? Do you think about how to benefit the group collectively? Or is your natural bent always figuring out how to protect your personal interests?  Do you make the leader’s job pleasant or are you the thorn in their flesh? In short, are you a joy to lead? Or a pain in the neck?

I’m not talking about blindly following someone, about abdicating all personal initiative or never offering honest feedback when the time is right. And I’m not talking about when the existing leadership is lacking, stepping up and in to lead when the time and circumstance is right. I’m talking about when healthy leadership is in place, when the vision is clear and the direction set – and then voluntarily choosing to work with those over you. I’m talking about willingly putting your needs and wants under the needs and wants of the group as a whole, about choosing to appropriately participate, about encouraging the leaders over you when their job is hard. About getting in and rowing with them. About using words and actions to construct, not destroy.

When the time and circumstances are right, how do you do at that? I think that how one responds to leadership says a lot about someone’s spiritual maturity.

Unconventional Marks of Spiritual Maturity – landing on your feet

Recently I had a dirty, rotten, no good week. Pretty much every sort of conflict you could imagine. Disappointment. Frustration. Fatigue. It all piled up at once and I had good cry. Several actually. A while later however, I remembered I had eaten that day. I was fully clothed with things I got to choose. I knew that even though my circumstances certainly weren’t of my choosing and certainly weren’t bringing me any joy at the present, I could see that good would come in the future. I could even see God’s hand in it rather clearly. It was just taking me a while for my heart to catch up to my head. I was falling in a hole of doubt and insecurity – and after a bit of a free fall, I landed on my feet. Sort of. I still wasn’t especially happy, but at least I was standing.

I’ve seen other people handle their crises with much more grace than I ever could. I see them fall, like we all do, but land on their proverbial feet. Because the ground they stand on is solid. They know who God is, that He loves them, that they are safe in His arms, that nothing happens to them that doesn’t pass through His hands first, that He works all things out for their good.

When difficult things happen – crisis, THE phone call, a break up, a relationship ends, forced conflict or pain…how quickly do you regain your footing, realizing that God is in control, after the initial emotion wears off? I think this a good, albeit unconventional mark of spiritual maturity – how quickly one lands after a significant free fall.

Unconventional Marks Of Spiritual Maturity – Being A Pleasure To Work With

I’ve met a number of people in ministry who, technically were great at their jobs. They could organize, inspire, teach, lead and get lots of things done in Jesus’ name. But personally, they were jerks. Really, unpleasant, fussy, verbally harsh, more concerned with the job than with those people for whom they were doing the job, etc. Ultimately, it didn’t matter how good they were at what they were doing, I didn’t want to work with them. Few others did either.

The really sad thing is that I’ve had whole seasons of my ministry life where I am pretty sure I was that jerk – where I was absolutely miserable to work with. I might have been having daily quiet times and been in the middle of God’s will for my life. I might have been getting done all I was being asked to do. Yet my attitude was… well…I’m ashamed now. I was a jerk. I didn’t control my tongue or even try to consider other’s needs or feelings. I was argumentative. A complainer. Unwilling to cooperate, to submit, to help out…you name it. It wasn’t pretty. In fact, I didn’t even want to work with myself.

Yet I’ve also worked with folks who were just a joy to be with. Who understood that part of being in Christ means being a part of the group, of making it work better, of displaying His character in the quality of our relationships with others. These are the folks who have figured out how to enjoy whatever God sends their way. Who seem to have learned the discipline of joy – and of working with others.

My conclusion is that I think an overlooked aspect of spiritual maturity is the quality of relationships a person has. Especially work relationships. Because we rarely get to choose who we work with I think those relationships can be a sort of barometer for what is going on in our hearts. Selfish or unselfish? Gentle or angry? Kind or cruel? It all shows up in the work environment.

Of course, a relationship involves 2 people, therefore I am not completely in control of how I get along with someone else. It does take two to tango. But my point is, as far as it is up to me, whether other folks want to work with me or want to avoid me says a lot about my spiritual maturity. Therefore, I think that is an unconventional mark of spiritual maturity.

Unconventional Marks of Spiritual Maturity – What Type Of Student Are They?

(Part 2 in the Unconventional Marks of Spiritual Maturity series)

Pr. 10:19 When words are many, sin is not absent, but he who holds his tongue is wise.

I remember feeling very disappointed with the men in my church. I had dropped in to a Sunday School class with an excellent teacher. And several men in the class repeatedly interrupted him. Positively, they were obviously engaged in the lesson. They had some great thoughts and insights. It appeared that they were developing teachers, just waiting for their chance to teach.

But they were terrible students. They didn’t know how to listen or how to appropriately participate so that they honored their teacher instead of interrupting him. Their pride and arrogance shut down their hearts so that I’m pretty sure they didn’t hear a thing. They were too busy thinking about what they wanted to say next rather than carefully listening for what God might want to say to them.

Some people think that someone who is a good teacher, who can lead and contribute much to discussions and Bible studies is spiritually mature. That may be, but …

I think you can tell a lot about where a person is spiritually by what type of student they are. How do they learn? Do they listen thoughtfully to the Word of God and think about its implications for their lives before they begin thinking about how to apply it to someone else’s life? Is there a gentleness in their learning style that makes them a pleasure to teach? Do they ask questions and actually listen to the answers? Or are they doing more talking than listening?I’m not saying that people shouldn’t participate or vigorously join in a discussion, but that we should think about how to participate constructively.

We’ve all been in a small groups with the know-it-all, the person who is sure they know more than the teacher. With the non-stop talker, who won’t be quiet long enough to hear what any one else is saying. With the arguer, who wants to debate even the silly things. With the criticizer, who complains incessantly. Frankly, no one wants to see them coming in the door, even if they have a lot of potential as a leader or teacher. Their behavior tells us more about the condition of their heart than their words ever could.

Lord, may I never teach another lesson, if I am not first the type of student that teachers want to have in their classes. Help me to recognize when to keep my mouth closed, my ears wide open and my heart soft.

Unconventional Marks of Spiritual Maturity –the wrong measure

(Part 1 of the Unconventional Marks series.)

(highlights of the incendiary passage of Matt. 23:24-28) You strain out a gnat but swallow a camel….You clean the outside of the cup and dish, but inside they are full of greed and self-indulgence….First clean the inside of the cup and dish, and then the outside also will be clean….you are like whitewashed tombs, which look beautiful on the outside but on the inside are full of dead men’s bones and everything unclean….on the outside you appear to people as righteous but on the inside you are full of hypocrisy and wickedness….

I was at a conference once with a bunch of students from a large mid-western Baptist Student Union. And I had to laugh. It was obvious to me that the guys there had some sort of unspoken dress code. They were all wearing t-shirts under plaid button up shirts, baggy cargo shorts and ball caps with the bills curled up tightly. Sandals. Lots of sandals. They all spoke the same language with acronyms for all the different Bible studies and ministries they were involved in. They listened to the same music. Read the same books. They looked just alike. Cute, to be sure, but just alike.

I can’t help but think that many of them mistook conformity, morality, knowledge and attendance for true spirituality. Because they looked the part, behaved a certain way, knew a lot of Bible verses and showed up at the right events, they, and probably everyone else, assumed they were moving towards spiritual maturity. And they may have been. But are those really the things that make someone a mature disciple of Christ?

Generally, the Christian community loves folks who conform, behave, study and attend. When we see these external characteristics, we assume someone is doing ok internally. But one thing I’ve discovered after years of ministry is that what is seen on the outside is not necessarily an indication of the internal condition. There are lots of people out there who are quite beautiful on the outside and incredibly messed up on the inside.

So, is there a better way for us to measure how we are doing spiritually? I want to take a few entries and explore what I’ve found to be some unconventional but often accurate marks of a growing and vital spiritual maturity – a depth in their relationship with God that translates to a changed, Christ-like life.

Suggestions For Worship Leaders

I’m not a worship leader. I’m not especially musical. But I am a worshipper. And I do attend worship regularly, and have for years in a variety of settings all across the world. Therefore, from my humble experience, I want to put forth a few suggestions for those engaged in leading worship across the spectrum of American evangelicalism.

1. Don’t make the prayer time anything other than prayer time: One of my worship pet peeves is when prayer is actually announcements, a transition time to clear the stage while we aren’t looking or a continuation of the sermon. “Oh Lord, as the ushers are coming forward to take up the offering and as we fill out the information cards that record our attendance…” “God, help us to remember that this week small groups start…” It just seems to me that prayer is serious enough business that we shouldn’t manipulate it to be anything other than coming in to His presence.

2. Put non-musical people on your leadership team: Ever sat in a class with a professor who was an absolute genius and knew everything about his subject – except how to teach it? Remember how frustrating it was that he had no self-awareness, being absolutely clueless about how others perceived him? Remember how frustrated he got because no one else seemed as interested in or understood the subject as quickly or thoroughly as he did? Many people in your congregations feel the same way with you leading worship. Seeking the opinions of some folks who don’t ‘get’ it like you do, who can’t follow everywhere you go musically, just might yield some very valuable observations that you would never be able to see yourself.

3. Sing behind the song. Sometimes worship leaders are in front of the song. When they are, it is not just a song. It is “this particular person” singing the song. This can be distracting and happens with those who have distinctive voices, talk a lot during worship or have very big personalities. Then, sometimes worship leaders sing behind the song. The song and who we are singing it to becomes the focus. When this happens, it is easier to worship, even if you don’t care for the personality or style of the leader. Please, sing behind the song more than you sing in front of it.

4. Don’t tell me how to worship. Some worship leaders say things like, “Join us in worship.”, “Feel free to raise your hands or clap or sit quietly if you want,”. Others are more dominant, telling the audience to “Raise your hands.”  ”Come on, you can sing louder than that!” There is nothing wrong with encouraging me to participate or offering suggestions to make a certain response easier, but please, don’t tell me how to worship. Yes worship is corporate, and you are leading… but it is also such a personal and heart thing that I need to be free to respond individually also.