"Your Mom!"

This post may call for buckling up and strapping down. I may not sugarcoat this topic very well, but I don’t think it needs it. Straight shooting is sometimes the best way to get the point across...

I realize that some moms out there are just awful mothers. Let’s be honest. I’ve been a close witness of and close friends to people whose moms are abusive, promiscuous, alcoholics, absentee, drug users, or behind bars. Also, other moms who are self-righteous, demeaning of their husbands, extremely hypocritical, self-obsessed and have full-fledged stubbornness or rage issues bordering on the demonic. Some mothers, for one reason or another, are just expert homewreckers… whether they intend to be or not.

I recognize that forgiving a mother like that takes nothing less than all the grace of God. [But it is possible. It is not only possible; it is 100% necessary if we claim ourselves to be one of the hopeless, undeserving souls whose debt Jesus paid completely.]

However, most mothers do not fit the above descriptions. Let’s talk about the mom who probably more closely resembles ours.

The average mom makes mistakes. Big ones.
The average mom tends to talk too much, or not enough.
She’s probably either too much of a clean freak or too much of a hippie;
too much of a spender or more stingy and therefore “isn’t as fun as dad.”
The average mom has no idea what she’s doing.
If she loves Jesus deeply and has a relationship with Him, she’s leaning on Him with everything she has to figure out how to deal with every single next step… or even just the next day.

The average mom also loves her children more than they will ever know until they have children.
The average mom has more on her mind, in her schedule and on her worry radar than anyone usually understands or appreciates.
She is scared stiff of failing as a mom, whether she's the type to show it or not.
She probably tries to be perfect, or close to it, and not just for her reputation or your dad but for you.
But the average mom is messy and imperfect and seemingly short-tempered at times (often driven there by her offspring!), and unashamed of expressing the amount of love and concern she has for her kids.
Her blind, self-centered children most likely cause her, at one point or another, more pain and tears than they ever realize at the time. Or perhaps ever.

Moms want their children to be healthy and happy and have a good life. So their actions usually reflect whatever they think will bring that about. Whether those actions are right or wrong, the motive is usually a loving one.

And this brings me to my whole point.

I am at retching-level sick and tired of watching the way so many grown people treat their mothers. [Their fathers, too, but that’s a different topic for a different day.]

Hopefully you realize that just being a teenager gives no one the reason nor right to be sassy, rebellious, snotty or cold with their mother. But if you never did get that memo, and you’re an adult now—What the heck are you still doing??

Maybe you've had vicious arguments (in which you probably just assumed you were right when you were actually too big for your britches). Yes, she’s hurt you. You’ve hurt her too. (My mom and I are no exception.) Maybe she's caused you legitimate damage and heartache. Please understand that I am in no way dismissing it. But isn’t it time to let go of that and start afresh? Of course she’s wronged you. Who are you? Jesus?

Of course our parents were faulty. We will be, too. We are human beings with a flesh that wars against the spirit. We look to God to be made holy, but in this life we still sin.

So, what if your mom always reminds you to wear your seatbelt even though you always do? Is it going to hurt you to say, “Okay, mom”?
So what if she expresses something for the hundredth time?
So what if she enjoys bragging about you to her friends, or scrapbooking your life?
So what if she does or says things that actually do sort of embarrass you? What's that to you?
You're an adult; she's not going to actually prevent you from your adrenaline-fix activities. So let her show her concern anyway. Listen to and respect her, even when you disagree with her.

Let’s be real: She carried you around inside of her for the better part of a year and then shoved you out of a space that wasn’t exactly your size. And then, to keep you alive, she probably literally fed you with, well, herself. And she changed your stinkin’ diapers several times a day. For a LONG. TIME. You kept her awake for countless nights with your screaming, but she dealt with it. And that’s not even getting started on just the practical things, in just the first week of your life. And, wonder of wonders, she actually loved you through all of it and enjoyed you. I mean, SERIOUSLY………

Let her in on your life. The coy, immature “It’s MY business and I don't have to keep you in the loop” information-deprivation-tactic – really? Still?? That’s so 9th grade. (And it shouldn’t have been okay even then. Especially then.) Let her be protective and give you stuff and be excited for you. Let her say what she feels and repeat her stories. Spend time with her. Let her kiss you on the cheek. Hug her when she cries because you’re leaving. Because, as hard as you try, you probably have no idea what she feels for you. And she’s not going to be around forever.

I'm guessing your friends would never get away with stuff like that. But she’s not exactly just a friend. She’s like no one else in the world. She’s your MOTHER, and all that stuff she does that is unique to her is called MOTHERING, for crying out loud. She’s earned it.

I get that moms can be “annoying” sometimes (I guess—I’ve never really experienced it). They don’t always make perfect sense to those of us who are not mothers. I know mine doesn't always. But isn't that beside the point? What if yours is downright “annoying?” Can't you display some grace and maturity, laugh it off, not make it about you in the first place, and go along with her for once, out of respect and because you love her?

We have but one life during which we have the opportunity to love sacrificially.

Being “too good for” or “embarrassed by” one's mom is for stuck-up, arrogant, ungrateful jerks and prisswads. As which none of us would probably like to categorize ourselves.

Not that I feel strongly about this or anything.

- - -

PS: God puts a high value on this stuff. Old Testament Mosaic Law or not, these are a peek into how He feels about it...

"Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us." 

"...For if you forgive other people when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins."
(Matthew 6) 

"'Honor your father and mother' (this is the first commandment with a promise), 'that it may go well with you and that you may live long in the land.'"
(Ephesians 6) 

"Listen to your father who gave you life, and do not despise your mother when she is old."
(Proverbs 23) 

"The eye that mocks a father and scorns to obey a mother will be picked out by the ravens of the valley and eaten by the vultures."
(Proverbs 30) 

“If a man has a stubborn and rebellious son who will not obey the voice of his father or the voice of his mother, and, though they discipline him, will not listen to them, then his father and his mother shall take hold of him and bring him out to the elders of his city at the gate of the place where he lives, and they shall say to the elders of his city, ‘This our son is stubborn and rebellious; he will not obey our voice; he is a glutton and a drunkard.’ Then all the men of the city shall stone him to death with stones. So you shall purge the evil from your midst, and all Israel shall hear, and fear."
(Deuteronomy 21)

Is Life So Bland?

I've been coming to grips with a very raw, brutal, hard truth lately. (Hard for me, anyway.) It's this: Life isn't always a crisis. But it is. My definition may just be wrong. And yours might be, too.

...Completely confusing, I know... I'll get there. Here's my heart.

First of all, let's talk about "crisis."

Paramedics know what crisis is. So do firefighters, combat soldiers, law enforcement, and doctors in the ER. If you've ever been to basic training, or first on the scene of a car wreck, or found yourself in a hostile country, or some other "I'm gonna die" emergency situation (possibly even, "The house looks like World War III and mom will be home in five minutes"), you probably know what it means to find that elusive third gear.

It's "do or die trying." Everything else slows down (yes, like the movies) and you find your adrenaline-infused self operating at a speed, dexterity, brilliance and competence you never thought possible.

Well the thing is, I kind of live for those times. I live for stuff that is difficult and challenging and painful and, well, miserable (and not only for the heck of it, but especially for the greater good or when no one else wants to do it--my idea of "helping people"). So much so that sometimes, despite my attempts to adjust, "normal life" feels unbearably dull and painfully purposeless by comparison.

I'm sure part of it is my personality. But recently I'm also realizing that, until now, I have never really had to live outside of crisis mode very much.

All my growing up years were straight-up survival on our primitive family farm. It may as well have been Mars. (When your reason for getting out of bed in the morning has always been, "To live," other average reasons are just not quite as motivating.)

From there I joined the Air Force auxiliary and lived off of emergency services/search and rescue training and military discipline.

Then I helped start and then run a military youth academy, working with youth who had been into everything you could name, of which I was made the Cadet Commander (which brought new stresses and challenges, to put it mildly).

From there was living in Egypt (enough said?). Middle Eastern drama, persecution, a new and difficult language to learn. Awesome third-world-country life that I never tired of.

Three jobs, a marathon, CNA.

Next, New Tribes Bible Institute. Which was not crisis mode per se; but still rather new, exciting, lots of vision and inspiration and deadlines, and I got the occasional, brief adrenaline fix by working as a Driver's Ed teacher. (My foot still unconsciously hovers the imaginary emergency brake, so you may not want to ask me to sit in the front passenger's seat...)

My genuine ache and struggle to find significance and meaning in normalcy, my addiction to crisis mode, my stressing over lack of stress, may be hard for most people to understand. But the resulting symptom mimics something our Hollywood-saturated culture and everyone else struggles with, too: Discontentment. And unrealistic expectations.

Let's put it this way...

Maybe, you want to marry a country boy. Because you think they're all as great as Phil Robertson. And so you marry a country boy, but he's nothing like what you thought a country boy should be, definitely not romantic or as understanding as you expected, or even a gentleman... and you're crushed. Maybe, by crazy chance, he's everything you thought he would be. But you find other things about him that you don't like, and you pick on them. And you're crushed. Disappointed.

Maybe you've always wanted to be a nurse. You just want to help people, you say, but of course you want to enjoy yourself and look great doing it. And at some enlightened point in your stressful, black coffee-drugged four years of classes and clinicals that are harder than you ever thought possible, you wake up. And you realize: It's not going to be like Grey's Anatomy. And it's certainly, definitely not like Scrubs. At all.

Perhaps you've always wanted a small, primitive family farm. Want to live off the land. So you start the slow, difficult journey toward what you're sure will, someday, be romantic and picturesque--it must!--but something just seems "off." You find yourself aching from entire days of unglamorous, monotonous weed-pulling in a field that goes on and on for acres; stitching up a calf with a quilting needle in your living room; twice-a-day milkings with no respite; scampering to can and preserve a winter's worth of food for a whole family; slaughtering animals by hand in the freezing cold; working all night by the headlights of a truck to pick up all the potatoes before morning's delivery; wondering when in the world, oh dear God, there will ever be time to do laundry or cook or wash the dishes or rest your back. And there's nobody there to capture the essence of what looks a lot.. better.. than it feels.. sometimes.

Or what about this: You really, really want to be a missionary. Missionary biographies captivate you. You're "on fire" for God. And all you can think about is missions (and deep down, somewhere you won't admit, you might feel you'd be viewed as a "better Christian"). You're very compassionate and empathize with the plight of the people in, say, Somalia, and -- excitement!! -- you end up there. It's amazing and wonderful and different at first. But soon you notice things you didn't before. Like how the different food and the habits of the people are extremely annoying now, and it's a lot of work to fit in and you just want things to be how they were; and you find your compassion is dwindling because the people don't even want you there and nobody's getting saved. And you can't figure out why it's nothing like that two-month or maybe even just one-week missions trip you took, once upon a time.

Could go on and on with other situations: Marriage. The dream career. Parenthood. Retirement. The cake you baked or the picture you drew or the house you built. Disappointment. Not how it was supposed to go. Nothing ever going how it was supposed to. (Side note here being that disappointment happens and is neither rare nor wrong. Sadly, our default setting is to turn it into bitterness and cynicism, which certainly is wrong.)

The Dean of Students while I was a student at NTBI spoke in chapel one day, and said something like this about living for your personal dream, no matter how good: "If you don't achieve it, you will be depressed because you didn't; if you do achieve it, you will be depressed because you have nothing left to live for." (Queue King Solomon and the book of Ecclesiastes.) Point being, Jesus Himself is the only thing worth living for. Not even dreams that involve Jesus. Because who knows what may happen to them.

Here's something my Heaven-sent husband reminded me of the other day (paraphrased):

Part of what I'm feeling is not wrong. We are to live in crisis mode, we need to live in crisis mode, because we are living a crisis. There are people's souls, and the state of the Church, and our stance before Jesus one day, at stake. It's just hard to see from our current vantage point. And Satan, the world and our flesh use that blurriness against us.

I'm not saying we should have no expectations at all. In fact, I'm not entirely sure what I'm saying about a conclusion regarding degree of expectations. But here's what I am saying:

Thankfully-- probably because of the way I was raised-- I've never been disappointed by life in that everything is, frankly, just so much more awesome than I ever would have planned or imagined (from ice cream to my husband to my in-laws). I still get excited and giddy inside about watching a movie or getting new toothpaste or the fact that the inside of my house is warm in the winter!!!

However... most of my expectations still tend to be unrealistic because they envision a life that by necessity is much more difficult (or challenging or characterized by crisis), whereas a lot of other people's expectations are unrealistic because they envision a life that is much easier (or more comfortable or picturesque or like the movies). But neither of them are much like "normal" life. So both produce discontentment if we focus on them too strongly.

Now, God may not end up calling Joey and I to something "normal" (or even to another day of life on this earth). But He might. Because He calls the shots. We could live out our lives in Aleppo, Syria or the mountains of Tibet or in a town of 300 people in rural Wisconsin. The point is that it should not matter. The heart that is God's says, "I am Yours. You bought me. It is my joy to live for You, wherever, doing whatever!" Like Paul:

"I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well-fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through Him who gives me strength." [Philippians 4:11-13]

Obviously, this is easier said than done, and requires daily renewal by the Spirit of God. It is so much harder to learn to live content with the idea of either, or oscillate between the two, than to stick with one.

I would like to implore us all toward this:

Relish true love stories, but not chick flicks. Don't feed on things that you find produce discontentment, which are all different things for each of us. Live in the real world. I encourage you, with every breath I have... Live here, in this real, imperfect world, with real, imperfect people, acknowledging your very imperfect self, before our loving and perfect God.

Because the real world (even in all its fallen nature), when it's not being compared to grand delusions (lies), is still pretty dang beautiful.

10 Things My Dad Taught Us

I'm one of eleven crazy children raised by my parents. The indisputably most important thing they have imparted to us has been a knowledge of God and His Word. And from that knowledge of God were derived other principles, these primarily from my dad. Most of these he taught explicitly; others, in not remotely so many words, but by his own actions. I share them as a tribute to him. While admittedly far from exemplifying many of these currently, I definitely find that I nonetheless still tend to see them as what ought to be the norm for myself.



1.)     Do the hard thing…

…On purpose. Be uncomfortable. Do not even have a comfort zone – if you do, go outside of it, obliterate it, and then never go back. Do the awkward thing, the difficult thing, the sweaty thing, the distasteful thing, the miserable thing. Soon, one finds there are few actually disliked things left. “To built character,” he would say, “a person needs to do two things, at the very least, that they strongly dislike… each day.” Oh, we regularly surpassed that number... [Is it any wonder that the majority of marriages fail, in a time when difficulty is reason enough to quit?]

He summed it up something like this: “Comforts and luxury are to be enjoyed and appreciated when you have them. But don’t go looking for them.”

Perk: Everything seems relatively easy when you regularly seek out the difficult stuff.

2.)       Pain is your friend.

When you embrace pain, it doesn’t hurt as much, if at all. Make friends with it, and you won’t be fighting it anymore. The resulting relief and the freedom is almost palpable.

I first began to understand this in reality while marathon training. Running mile after mile can be both painful and boring. Originally, my approach was to grit my teeth and “gut it out.” That, however, produced a vicious inward battle: me fighting against the misery. I found that when I surrendered and accepted it—“This is going to hurt for the next three hours, and that’s okay”—that suddenly all was well. It wasn’t so hard. Nothing had changed except my attitude.

3.)       Overcome your fears.

No one should live with debilitating fear. I did not know until later how rare it is to grow up sans ordinary phobias. Spiders, heights, snakes, small spaces, germs, lightning, flying, the dark, shots? Noooope. [There is one, but it doesn’t stop me... if you know me, you know what it is! Haha.]

When I was 9 years old and we were farming with horses, I fell and my little frame ended up underneath an implement. (This particular farm accident was no one’s fault.) A metal disc sliced deep into my tiny leg, taking it and me out of action for quite awhile.

The very next morning, early, my dad carried me lovingly out to where the horses were hitched, set me up on the seat, and had me take them for a few more passes on the field I had been working the day before. I didn’t understand why at the time, nor did I ask; I assumed he knew what he was doing, and he did. My dad didn’t want his daughter to grow up with a fear of horses or a fear of disking a field.

He took the principle of “Get back up” or “Get back on” to a whole new level, and his children were the undoubted beneficiaries in every other area of life. Love isn't always accommodating.

4.)       Target your own weaknesses.

Personal growth and self-discipline are not too popular today. The message of the time is, “BE YOU.” Period. If it’s not comfortable, don’t force yourself. 

My dad, on the other hand, saw it as normal and necessary to address areas of inability or lack of natural talent. He recognized that everyone has their own God-given gifts, areas of expertise and personal strengths, but that “I’m just not good at that” or “That’s not my thing” should never be an excuse. I never remember us once calling a mechanic, a plumber, an electrician, construction workers, even a vet. He, my sister and I built our barn, for goodness’ sake. His method was simple: If he didn’t know how to do something, he whipped out a manual and studied it. He talked to people and asked questions. He made observations.

No wonder it seemed like my dad could do absolutely everything—he basically could. He is a true James Bond-esque jack-of-all-trades. Not by birth, but through sheer hard work and intentional character development.

5.)       American culture is not your authority.

In fact, it’s a crock of junk. (To love America and her freedom is not the same as being characterized by her lazy, immoral, entertainment-centric lifestyle.) “My children will not be Americanized,” my father was fond of saying, frequently.

Years later, it was strange and gratifying to hear that line of his quoted with a gleeful chuckle, and a thick Arabic accent, by an old Egyptian doctor I worked with in the Middle East. Doctor “E” LOVED it. He had seen the proof of that principle as it played out in life there.

It was not difficult for me to live completely removed from American culture. American culture, after all, was not my home. 

6.)       Check how you react to “No.”

“We don’t always get what we want.” He said it so many times that I can hear it almost audibly in my mind now. He and Mama drummed into us the manner of thought that understands two simple things: Often in life, we do not get our way – and that’s okay. Sometimes we do, but not right away – and that’s okay, too.

In a time and culture that probably couldn’t even define the concept of delayed gratification, my dad instituted in our home and on his calendar something he called “’No’ Days.” On those particular days, anything my siblings and I requested was denied. (Within reason… we still had our three square meals and every other facet of a normal day.) Our job was to respond cheerfully. It was not hard. Our parents loved us like crazy; when they said “No,” it was never vindictive and we knew it was for our own good. 

Turns out that we never understood the concept of “begging,” and to see a spoiled child screaming his head off in the grocery store was sheer trauma.

7.)       Give everything you’ve got.

Hold nothing back. “Leave nothing on the table,” as it were. If it’s worth doing, do it all the way; put all of yourself into everything you have weighed and deemed worthy of pursuit. Be all there. Do not get in the habit of being a half-hearted creature.

Because of how we were expected to work this out in other areas of life, we understood the concept of giving all of oneself, unreservedly, to something/someone. It’s pretty darn helpful in jobs, relationships, marriage. It propelled my success in search and rescue. It was the only way I knew when I gave myself to God. And I thank Him eternally for my earthly father’s wisdom.

8.)       You can always “make do” with what you have.

We rarely had the luxury of simply going out and buying the tool or ingredient we needed. It was not even an option, really. For the longest time, we didn't have a wheelbarrow, and God knows we could have used it. Find something, invent something, make it work. That was the idea.

Also, nothing ever has to be “just so.” “Only a poor runner blames his shoes.” If circumstances have to be just right and certain conditions have to be met in order to perform – in whatever area – you are handicapping yourself. Leave yourself no excuses; get in the habit of doing what “cannot” be done.

If you do not have the money, well, you spend nothing (in our earlier days, anyway). The reason so many people’s lifestyles do not match their income is because they are unwilling to live within their means—i.e., “make do.”

9.)       Learn from others’ mistakes.

It was a rare evening indeed, if my dad’s dinnertime spiel did not include an exhortation on why or why not to do as so-and-so did. Sometimes it was a news story he shared with the family. Sometimes, it was an unfortunate incident suffered by the farmer down the road.

As watchman for the family, he took it upon himself to warn us and make us aware of reality for our future survival. The big world out there was not all that up-close and personal in rural Wisconsin. Tales of another abduction of a teenage girl, someone gored by their own bull, a neighbor with health problems, or a friend’s divorce were common such topics. They never drove us to paranoia, but to think, be smart, and try to make wise decisions in life. He taught us to use the brains God gave us. Why repeat a mistake you’ve seen someone else make if you can learn from them instead?

It couldn’t make us immune, but it helped to make us more aware.

10.)   Treat people well: Listen to them, value them, put them first.

I cannot remember hearing him say anything remotely like this, but he screamed it through his actions with others. He gave his full, genuinely interested attention in conversation. He did not demand his own way or squawk for his “rights,” even when he could have. He despised that sort of thing and rose above it.

He always bought the most inexpensive thing possible, but never tried to cheat or even talk his way out of a price unless it was ridiculous. He wanted to be fair. He often gave people things he could have sold them instead. The person was more important than the price. Even with money, he treated others as he wanted to be treated.

This is the distinct notion I got from watching my dad deal with other people, including complete strangers: They, their thoughts, feelings and needs mattered more than his.

11.)   The people you love need to hear it, often.

You need to show them, and you need to verbally tell them. There is no reason to be content with just one or the other. I don’t know that my dad believed in particular love languages so much as all of them. Whether they came naturally or not was a side issue. I really think that sometimes we cripple ourselves by categorizing ourselves.

Looking at this list, one might get the notion that my dad was harsh and unfeeling with his kids. We would laugh at such a preposterous notion. The discipline never felt unfair because he was so obvious in his expressions of love. The love truly felt limitless.

Would you say something at your loved one’s funeral, from the heart, that they were unaware you felt for them while they were here on this earth? Tell them. 

Also, “Love” is spelled T-I-M-E, not M-O-N-E-Y. Especially as a father. We rarely had the one. We always had the other.

"In acceptance lieth peace."

She who laments her singleness or married-ness, 

children or lack of children, 

finances or lack of finances, 

overabundance or absence of work,

busyness or lack of busyness,

happiness or lack of happiness, 

"calling" or lack of "calling,"

"too"-spiritually-focused husband or completely ungodly husband... 

...She has not come to know peace. She has not yet realized that each season of life is a gift of God--always either allowed by God or GIVEN by God, who knows precisely what each of us needs. This is an incredible fact... Why doesn't it inspire gratitude and joy!?

…Maybe because we don’t really believe it. Not of every circumstance, anyway.

Emotions are God-given (some of them), but they are not our god.

Contentment is a priceless thing. To long for what is not, is to miss what is. And that "is" has been allowed or orchestrated BY GOD. For some purpose. Our spiritual act of worship is to offer our bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God. Period. This says nothing about location or circumstances. 

~ thoughts and notes to self today

More Love

North Korea. 1950’s.

For years, Pastor Kim and 27 of his flock of Korean saints had lived in hand dug tunnels beneath the earth. Then, as communists were building a road, they discovered the Christians living under ground. 

The officials brought them out before a crowd of 30,000 in the village of Gok San for public trial and execution. They were told, “Deny Christ or you will die.” They refused. 

At this point, the head communist officer ordered four children from the group sized and had them prepared for hanging. With ropes tied around their small necks, the officer again commanded the parents to deny Christ.  

Not one of the believers would deny their faith. They told the children, “We will see you soon in heaven.” The children died quietly.  

The officer then called for a steam roller to be brought in. He forced the Christians to lie on the ground in its path. As its engine revved, they were given one last chance to recant their faith in Jesus. Again they refused. 

As the steam roller began to inch forward, the Christians began to sing a song they had often sung together. As their bones and bodies were crushed under the pressure of the massive rollers, their lips uttered the words: 

“More love to thee, O Christ, more love to thee. Thee alone I seek, more love to thee. Let sorrow do it’s work, more love to thee. Then shall my latest breath whisper Thy praise. This be the parting cry my heart shall raise; More love, O Christ, to thee.” 

The execution was reported in the North Korean press as an act of suppressing superstition. 

(Reference: “Jesus Freaks” by DC Talk & Voice of the Martyrs pp. 125.)

Such love. Tears fill my eyes.

More love to You, Jesus. More love to You. Is this all our hearts ache for? How do I, how can I, show that kind of love in my present circumstances?

Can we, today, perhaps risk looking like a freak... can we refuse to watch a movie we know is full of stuff Jesus died for, saying, "More love to Thee, Jesus. I love You more than I love fitting in or my flesh or entertainment."?

Can we refuse to laugh, not in a pious way, but out of humble love, when others joke about sin or in a demeaning way about their husbands? "More love to Thee. I love you more than my reputation."

Can we bite our tongues and right our attitudes when we just want to win a verbal argument? "More love to Thee. You died to make unity and love among believers."

Can we forgive someone who does not deserve it, whispering, "More love to Thee. I forgive because You forgave me an unforgivable debt."?

Can we ignore everything else we want to do, shut off our screaming brains for a bit, and spend time talking with Jesus and going to His Word to meet Him... often?

I daresay we must.

More love. More love to Thee.

Horrifying Dreams.

A couple of mornings ago, I awoke after dreaming (for what felt like the entire night) about being hunted down like an animal. The worst thing was that there were others being pursued, too. With me were members of my family, friends and other believers. We were hiding in the cracks and crevasses of stone walls, near dumpsters in back alleys, abandoned basements. We were running out of locations and ways to conceal ourselves.

It wasn't wartime, and it wasn't in another country. It was in the U.S.

They were not random criminals, but those employed by the government - the established laws of the land - who were coming after us.

I knew somehow that their intent was to execute us, but only after a great deal of torture and digging for information.

And I knew for a fact that it was because I had broken some law because of my belief in Jesus. Maybe owning a Bible, maybe praying with people. Maybe, just being a Christian.

As a child, I once had a dream which I cringe even to share. In this dream, again, Christians were being persecuted-- in this case, butchered by being sawed in half. You may think that I watched one too many horror movies, except that we didn't watch movies when I was a kid. Much later, I read a passage in Hebrews chapter 11 that described what some believers had endured for holding on to their faith in Jesus, with the same word pictures:

"They were stoned, they were sawn asunder, were tempted, were slain with the sword: they wandered about in sheepskins and goatskins; being destitute, afflicted, tormented..."

Whether this account took place in the time of Antiochus or perhaps Manasseh, we know that Christians around the world suffer like this every day. America is pretty much the last physically safe place for Christians. Reality is that the rest of the world deals with this; we're one of the only countries which does not currently experience discrimination and physical persecution as the norm and reality. The reputation, favor and "rights" we have enjoyed for centuries, however, are quickly disappearing.

Dreams and thoughts like this are not the least bit comfortable. They're absolutely frightening. But they should not fill us with dread of the future. They should propel us into the arms of Jesus.

To where else can we go?

These miserable dreams got me thinking about my own heart and where I stand. It is always healthy to have a reality check and ask ourselves tough questions, no matter where we stand with God. Our flesh is and will always, always be prone to wander away from Him.

My thoughts on this mirror ones I wrote on this blog previously, and serve to remind myself of those I put in the post "The Quest For Love:"

When I was growing up, I read a few stories from Foxe's Book of Martyrs. I still regularly read the Voice of the Martyrs magazine. I used to wonder what it was that kept such Christians faithful through gruesome torture and death. I admired what I assumed was their steely willpower.

Willpower doesn't do that - everyone has a breaking point! Memorization and indoctrination cannot do that... torture can wear down every human faculty. Love does that. Not theoretical love, but actual love. How many of us would die for something we don't know to be true? How many of us, outside of the military sense, would readily die for a total stranger? How about someone we'd met once? Now how about family, or a close friend? I'd give my very life for my little brother. My mom, or my dad. An Egyptian girl I know, who is like a sister to me . (Just as examples.) Why? They're not just names. I LOVE them. I know them.

It's possible to be acquainted with the Lord, to be saved by Him, yet not know Him (how sad!) "Have I been so long with you, and yet hast thou not known me?," Jesus asked Philip.

We have got to know Jesus. If we don't, why in the world do we bother with the religious rigamarole? What, then, does the concept of heaven even hold for us? What is the point of being "saved" - to spend eternity with someone we do not know, much less love?? "Your love is better than life," the Psalmist, David, says. Wow! Think about that literally (the Bible does mean every word of what it says). Do we have that kind of "attachment" to God? God holds in His heart the deepest possible, beyond imaginable love for us, but He does not force it on us. We have to want it. We have to seek Him. Psalm 145:18 says, "The Lord is near to all who call on him, to all who call on him in truth." James 4:8 says, "Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you." That's not a "maybe"... it's a promise!

By the way, trusting someone comes easily once you really know them. I wouldn't ask that you trust a stranger. God doesn't, either. I trust Him with my life [...] because I trust Him - trust Him to do what really is best for me, not what I think is best for myself. How could I not!? Is it not tragic that we claim to live for a God with whom we refuse to entrust our circumstances?? 

...There is a space, deep in the heart of every human being, which cannot be filled even by a spouse. There is a love we crave with every ounce of our aching souls, regardless of whether or not we're painfully aware of it. A space which can only be filled by God himself. And so often, even we Christians mistake it for a longing for the human love we chase, not realizing that even once we attain it we will be unfulfilled. We were made for something so much more: something perfect. And once we have it, I don't see how there could be any going back. Everything else really does, of a sudden, pale in stark contrast.  

Does that sound like hollow spiritual rhetoric? It did to me, once upon a time. It always does, until it becomes personal and tangible.

Tears fill my eyes at the thought of how many "followers of Christ" have never experienced Him... never gotten close to Him as to a closest friend or a Father... indeed, never known Him. 

Some Christians go to church a few times a year. The good ones, every Sunday. The really great ones volunteer during the week and get involved in ministry, or go on missions trips, right? Even at home they study the Bible, but as they would a textbook, and utter one-way prayers into the air, like a ritual. 

I've been there.

Is that it? Is that worth it? Isn't a relationship two-way?

How many of us have a personal God? How many of us can say, with every possible bit of sincerity, that He is our closest friend, the One we most want to please and most hate to disappoint - that there is nothing and no one we love more? It's one thing to say it. It's another thing to actually feel it, and yet another to fully know it.

Yes, we've got to plug into good, solid, Bible-teaching churches, and have our "quiet time" or "devos" or whatever you personally call it. Yes, we've got to be careful about what we watch, listen to, and otherwise feed on so that we don't pollute our minds and hearts with junk and make ourselves numb to sin. Yes, we've got to share the Gospel from personal testimony with our friends, neighbors, acquaintances. And yes, we've got to surround ourselves with other believers who love Jesus and actually talk about Him and His Word and our struggles together so that we will grow and strengthen and flourish in Him. But it's got to be even more than that. It's got to be all of ourselves, and by that I mean our hearts. It's got to be real. Nobody dies for something or someone they cannot swear is real.

The part-time Christianity thing is like part-time breathing!

Is this hard? YES! It's more than that. It is impossible with the Holy Spirit of God. And it will not even seem worth it unless we are in a genuine relationship with Jesus-- I speak from personal experience.

If you have the desire to know Jesus more and just don't make it a priority, the time is now. Things will not get easier, they will get harder. Our flesh and the Spirit fight a vicious battle til the day we die; if we quit even trying, we're giving up ground, not just calling truce for awhile.

[I know how hard it can be! Yesterday morning I had plenty of time, so I convinced myself I needed to listen to this one song on YouTube at the beginning of my quiet time. ...Which was phenomenal, edifying and would have been really great, except that then somehow (still don't know how), I ended up on Facebook. ("She what!?" Yes. I'm an idiot.) Did I seriously just tell Jesus He had to wait?? For Facebook?!? I would never say that. But I did it. (This is why my quiet time is normally the first thing. Otherwise, the days starts and all of a sudden there's no time.)]

If you've been play-acting, maybe it's time to stop. It's easy to act the part and even think it's real when you've grown up in a Christian home or it's all you've ever known. I knew a girl a few years back who recently posted on her blog that she has finally "broken up with God," which she considers to have been "an abusive relationship." She watched as her other Christian friends enjoyed deep, real relationships with God, but for all of her praying and Bible-reading, did not experience it herself. She resents the lifestyle she has led, because it has been an act.

My initial tears and aching heart on her behalf (and grief over God's character being so maligned) were tempered by Joey reminding me that it's a step in the right direction. She has become honest with herself about where she stands with God. She's no longer pretending. And for that I have thanked God.

We cannot surround ourselves with the things of this world, put time into knowing God on the side, and expect that He's going to give us this massive, overwhelming love for Himself. He doesn't just special-deliver a box marked, "Awesome relationship with Me" one day. If you have no desire to really know Him, ask Him for it! Ask other believers to ask Him for it for you! Pursue Him. Maybe (this is gutsy), ask Him to use whatever it takes to make you desperate for Him.

By way of lengthy conclusion...:

One good thing I have witnessed about persecution is this: It brings the believer face-to-face, raw and real-time, with what he does or does not believe. It's one thing to go through the motions when all it means is looking like a good Christian in America. But when looking like a Christian means you stick your neck straight out onto the chopping block, well, you think twice about whether or not you consider Jesus to be worth it.

I don't believe that anyone gets through gruesome persecution and torture on one's own. I fully believe that God gives grace and strength in the moment. Which means that our job is to be connected to our God. We have to "abide in the Vine." When all is said and done, He is the only thing worth living for. He is the only reality.

Which means that Facebook can wait. So can whatever we have planned. Let's spend some time with Jesus.

Wife stuff that bothers me.

Fellow wives, soon-to-be wives, and may-be-wives-in-the-future (in other words, every woman out there): 

Do you realize we are called, commanded, to “reverence” our husbands? REVERENCE. So I’m thinking about the word, “revere," and the fact that it goes beyond niceness, grudging obedience, even love.

A thousand times I've heard this: “You don’t know him… he doesn’t deserve to be reverenced.”

Of course he doesn’t.

You and I don’t deserve to be loved sacrificially, unconditionally, AS CHRIST HIMSELF LOVED THE CHURCH and GAVE HIMSELF UP FOR HER, either. Yet that is what husbands are called to.

“Well he doesn’t love me like that. He’s not holding up his end of the deal.”

Does that make it harder, sometimes seemingly impossible? For sure. But does it actually matter? Is that what we’re going to tell God when we stand before Him one day? I sure don't have the guts for that. We are responsible only for the commands given us, not the commands given to our husbands.

In the military, you show a particular level of respect for your authorities not because they deserve it – they often don’t – but because there is a higher regulation, put in place for many good reasons, that says so. Well, I feel like we as believers have it easier. 

Why? 

We are called to show that respect and submission to our husbands not just out of adherence to some steely regulation, in fact, not only out of our love for our husbands... but out of OUR LOVE FOR GOD, Who is worth pleasing always, even when others aren’t or we don’t feel like it. (I think that’s really freeing, by the way. It means that my husband doesn’t have to deserve it, and that I don’t have to feel like it, to show it. That also means I am always without excuse. The exciting thing is, attitudes often follow actions!) 

And how do we (hopefully) obey God? Joyfully, not in a self-pitying manner. God thought up this whole thing called “marriage,” so I'm pretty sure He knows exactly what makes it work best!

I’ve only been married three months. This is all easy for me to say, I grant; though I’ve always been saying it, even as a teen. I practiced with my dad. And it is I who will need to challenge myself, for all my life. The level of respect shown to husbands – not only out in the world and our pathetic Western culture, but in the church - has always bothered and nauseated me. Note that I said RESPECT. We're not talking about mere kindness, or even love.

We have got to be careful – in a proactive, intentional way – that our messed-up, radical feminist culture and our own rebellious flesh do not set the standard for our behavior toward our husbands. 

This is huge! 

Everything we feed on, it seems, carries this disease and makes it seem both normal and amusing. It would be tragic to allow such things to rob us of a beautiful marriage relationship and, worse, the fullness of closeness with God that can be experienced when things are right in our other relationships. 

We can’t privately belittle, disregard, ignore, order around, spiritually manipulate, make fun of, run over, publicly call out, argue or be cold and stubborn with our husbands and at the same time think that we and God are as tight as we’re going to get.

In other words... this is a big deal.

"Let every one of you in particular so love his wife even as himself; and the wife see that she reverence her husband." [Ephesians 5:33]

I mean... this is the WORD OF GOD we're talking about.

Why is it that in our culture, it's funny to disrespect men, including one's own husband... but it's a jerk move not to love and treasure one's wife? When did unconditional love ever take precedence over unconditional respect?

Maybe because we have this warped idea that women need love like their lifeblood, but men don't need respect. And to that I ask, says who??

Where the heck did that come from?

(Well. Don't start me on an anti-radical-feminist tirade just yet.)

These aren't deep solutions or strategies right now... just thoughts. But I think we all need time with our thoughts and with God to get serious about changing habits, especially when it involves standing against what happens to be the vast majority perspective.

Now just watch... In the next two minutes, inside of me there may well up a less-than-rosy attitude about something my husband says-- proving to myself two things: That I have a flesh, and that God cares enough about my growth to humble me. Regularly.......