Unearthing the Truth

It began last night with a question. This unraveling of me.

What is it that has kept me from being who I am supposed to be?

It’s strange how Holy Spirit breaks into the places I think I have patched up so neatly with the Do Not Disturb sign clearly posted. But there I was in the middle of dinner and He asked me that very question.

What is it that has kept you from being who you were meant to be?

He knew the answer. It was me who needed to probe a little deeper.

But instead I turned to the one I love and asked him that question. Surely we all have things that have held us back. Perhaps hearing his answer would guide me to my own. But instead of giving me his own definitive answer he turned the question back to me.

And in the middle of a crowded restaurant over a perfectly lovely dinner, my eyes began to well with tears. I knew the answer. It was hidden in the same pathetic phrase I had uttered to myself time and time again. It was fuel to the raging fire that consumed those around me in my pursuit of perfection. It was the fear that held me back from anything that seemed too wonderful.

Am I worth it?

Seeing those words makes me cringe.

They beg a deeper question as they call my faith to the spotlight.

Do I believe that this Jesus, the One who anchors my hopeful heart, thinks I am enough? Despite my faithlessness, does He still think I am worth it?

And beyond that, does He adore me?

Too often I try to display the Father in the faulty, family frame I inherited. My perspective of His love for me gets muddied by the emotional gaps reflected in my shallow stream of understanding.

I know my earthly father loved me. The deepest parts of my heart tell me so. But the words of affirmation and adoration that I longed to hear were never spoken aloud.

And my interpretation of that silence formed an inaccurate picture of who I am. It has followed me into womanhood and surfaces every time I am on the brink of becoming more of who I was meant to be.

I’ve spent a lot of time digging in that garden of lies scratching the dirt and pulling at roots, desperate to unearth the weeds that grow there. I remember that each time I am able to grab a root in my hand and raise it to the light, it withers allowing space for good seeds to grow.

So here I am again. On my knees in the dirt grabbing at the root of this lie. The one that tells me I am not enough. I am not adored. I dig into the Psalms to unearth the promises of redemption and restoration He has for me. The ones that proclaim a father’s compassionate love so great that it is as high as the heavens are above the earth.

That truth begins to reverberate anew in my soul. “See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God!” 

God is not stingy with His love. He lavishes it on me, pours it over me in extravagance. He spared no expense in the pursuit of my heart. Not even His very own Son.

That’s how much I am adored. The truth I have known my whole life suddenly seems a fresh truth. A new depth. He died for me.

He adores me. I am worth it.

Thank-you, LORD.

Not Your Average Joe

This time of year our focus is on the baby in the manger and rightly so. We also give special attention to His virginal mother, Mary. But what about the third part of that holy family?

You know who I’m talking about. That stand in the background out of the spotlight guy named Joseph.

Maybe he was an introvert by nature. Maybe not. I really don’t know a lot about Joseph simply because there isn’t much written about him in the scriptures.

When you really think about it, Joseph must have been a truly amazing guy for God to have picked him to be the earthly father of His only son, Jesus. God could have picked absolutely anyone for the job – a king, a statesman, a rabbi, a rich man.

But He didn’t.

He picked Joseph. And by all accounts he was just an ordinary, average Joe.

A carpenter. A man who worked with his hands.

What was so different about Joseph’s character that he was the one to make the cut above all the others?

In the first chapter of Matthew, the nineteenth verse we can gain a few clues to his character. Matthew writes that Joseph was as a righteous man.

To be righteous means to be in right standing with God. Joseph loved God and did what His law commanded. He could stand before God and say, “Everyday I’m doing my best to do what you’ve asked of me.”

Not really so ordinary, is it?

When I read further I find how he dealt with a problematic situation.

You see, his fiancé Mary had given him some troubling news.

She was pregnant.

And the baby wasn’t his.

But it got even stranger than that.

Not only was she pregnant, but she claimed that she was still a virgin and had been chosen to give birth to the very Son of God.

I can only imagine the look on Joseph’s face when she dropped that little bombshell. He must have thought she was slightly delusional. After all, hadn’t she been visiting her relative Elizabeth for the past three months? Had something happened to her there that she just couldn’t bring herself to admit?

You know that if this happened in our present day he might have suggested that she be psychologically evaluated or at the very least have insisted upon a DNA test to determine paternity. This had Jerry Springer written all over it.

But as I read on I see his reaction isn’t one of anger or betrayal. It is humility and love.

Yes, he’s going to break it off with her, but he’s going to do it quietly. In those days, under the law those who became pregnant outside of marriage could have been stoned to death. But for Joseph to marry her after she had revealed her pregnancy was to say that he was the responsible party in the matter.

But Joseph was a righteous man. He was in right standing with God. He followed the rules and would have never been intimate with his fiancé before marriage.

So what to do?

The scriptures say he considered what to do. He gave it some long, hard thought. He knew what he must do. Out of compassion he would let quietly her go.

However, all those hard, thought out plans changed in an instant when he got a visit from an angel of the Lord. Everything Mary had told him was validated by that angel. Joseph was to take Mary as his wife, raise the boy as his own and name Him Jesus.

Did you get that? He was to be the adoptive daddy to the Son of God.

Jesus, the Savior of the world.

My Savior. Your Savior.

Joseph’s Savior.

Definitely not your average Joe.

 

 

 

 

Blessing in the Journey

Stopped at a traffic light behind a car equipped with a drop-down DVD screen I could see Disney’s Frozen playing. It was 7:30 a.m. so I suspected that Mom or Dad was on the way to childcare to drop off their little ones before work. Two thoughts came to mind:

1. That movie-playing-ability-at-a-finger’s-touch would have certainly come in handy when my children were small.

2. That movie-playing-ability-at-a-finger’s-touch was robbing that parent of potential quality time.

I am no stranger to chaotic car rides. Traveling with three children under the age of five nearly necessitated the supernatural growth of third arm to pick up dropped pacifiers, separate dueling toddlers and calm a crying preschooler all while keeping one hand on the steering wheel. Later, traveling with three teenagers under the age of eighteen offered special opportunities designed for my personal and spiritual character development such as enduring three simultaneous eye rolls without bursting into anger and careening into an oncoming car.

Still, there is something to be said for being conversationally engaged on the way to and from wherever you might be going. When my children were little we didn’t just talk, we sang just about everywhere we went. Sometimes they were just silly songs to release energy. Other times there were songs to imprint God’s word on their hearts.

When we talked, we talked about where we were going. “Yes, Mommy is lost again, but don’t worry. We’ll get there eventually.”

What was expected of them once we got there. “Do not ask me to buy you gum when we get to the check out. It’s not going to happen.”

And of course, encouragement and praise. “You did such a great job today. I am so proud of you.”

As my kids grew into teenagers they would often feel free to open up about things when my eyes were on the road and not on them. I remember a conversation I had when both of my girls were in the car and the oldest told me that one of her classmates was pregnant. The conversation that followed was heartfelt and honest in a way that we all felt comfortable without the potential of embarrassing eye-contact.

Allowing your child to zone out while watching a movie for the umpteenth time is a tantalizing temptation for tired parents. If I’d had the option when my kids were growing up I am sure I would have had the occasion to use it.

However, as the mother of three amazing grown children I know that the time sphere of influence you have as a parent is precious and limited. When we are over-scheduled with before and after school responsibilities, community functions and church activities, driving in the car can offer some bonus one-on-one interaction if we choose it to be.

I know there will be times when we are rushed and irritated that conversations will be limited to “Stop touching your brother.” or “Don’t make me pull this car over!” But if we always allow our children to be anesthetized by the power of a singing snow queen we miss a unique opportunity.

The opportunity that uninterrupted time offers us to get to know our children better, share ourselves with them and truly train up our children in the way they should go.

And that can be the real blessing along the journey.

“Train up a child in the way he should go: when he is old he will not depart from it.” Proverbs 22:6

The Sweet Spot

A few nights ago as I was putting the finishing decorating touches on our Christmas tree a dear friend and her husband came by. Our house was full of extended family and as they all chatted I continued to wind garland around the tree. Each time I made a pass around the tree I had to squeeze into the corner to place the garland on the back branches. My friend’s husband watched for a few moments as I made my tight orbit around the trunk before he strode across the living room toward me.

“You need to move that tree out from the wall,” he said.

Before I could utter a word he grabbed hold of the tree and lifted it up. As he did so the top part of the tree disconnected from the base. Undaunted, he hastily shoved it back on. Then repositioning his hand for better grip he moved the tree about a foot away from the wall.

I didn’t know what to say, but I’m sure my face revealed more than I wanted it to. After all, he had no idea that I had spent the last twenty minutes partnering with my affable son-in-law in the pursuit of the Christmas tree “sweet spot”. He didn’t know that the tree had already made a 16-foot journey across the room leaving a trail of major furniture adjustments in its wake before landing beautifully in the corner of the room.

He was just trying to help.

But now in the span of about twenty seconds my tree had been shifted from its perfect perch, its ornaments shaken from their special spots.

He was attempting to solve a problem he thought I was having.

I appreciated the thought behind his action, but it made me stop to think how many times I may have done that very same thing to someone else.

Impulsively jumped in and try to solve a problem that I thought existed without ever stopping to ask the person if they needed or even wanted my help. I’ve tried to instantly make something better that needed time on its own to heal.

As a teacher and mother the temptation to step right in and do too much can be a big temptation for me. I think I know the best way, the right answer, the easy fix. And there are times when I try to make it better that I am actually robbing someone else of the satisfaction of figuring it out on their own.

Or even worse, I am trying to fix a problem that only exists in my eyes. Because if the truth be told the real problem is…gulp….me.

Me and my need to control the situation.

Sometimes the best help comes in the form of listening instead of doing.

In whispered prayers and waiting.

And the keen awareness that what I might perceive as a problem, might just be somebody else’s sweet spot.