How to eradicate evil

In truth, what I did* yesterday was not very hard.  But it felt like it. 

The Officer and I looked our public-schooled, 9 and 7 year olds in the eyes; and we told them the truth. 

        Evil stalks even the steps of the innocent, the defenseless. 

We told them about the tragedy in an elementary school classroom, thousands of miles away.  We talked about how each of those children would eat dinner with Jesus that night; how they would be forever safe and forever loved.  But we also talked about how much it would hurt their families to be without them (no, the Officer and I could not get through that without choking up).  We talked about how the police and teachers and adults did what they could to keep those children safe, about how the adults in their lives strive to keep them safe.  And we talked about how sometimes, for reasons we can’t understand, evil destroys, evil steals, and that sometimes, evil kills. 

But we also asserted what I know without a doubt:

        There was not one moment that God was not in that room

                --present with each one of those children. 

                They were never, not for one breath, alone.       

Then we told them if they had any questions, at any point, to come and ask us.  If they want to talk about it, one of us is always available.  And we told them that if they wanted to pray: for the children, for their families, for the police, the students, the teachers; or to ask God, “why,” that one of us was always ready to do that right beside them.  But if they just wanted to talk to God about it alone, with only Him, He was always, always ready. 

And then, we went on with life.  A little more tenderly, a little more carefully, a little more aware than we had before.  Because that is what life does; even when we’re not entirely ready for it to, it goes on.

Honestly, reader, this was not a conversation I wanted to have with our children.  The Officer leaned towards sheltering them.  I don’t blame him; who wants their children to know that sometimes, on this rotten and broken planet, evil wins?  Who wants to look into the eyes of innocence and shatter it with the truth that sometimes all of our efforts and prayers just aren’t enough?  That sometimes the outcome seems to be the opposite of what a loving God would do?

But if we hide the truth, shelter them from the reality that there are days when evil seems to have won, then we miss the fullness of the very story of redemption and grace. 

There will be a lot of people in the next few days and weeks who will connect this tragedy with the truth that we are a world in desperate need of a Savior.  And they’re right.  We are in desperate need of our Lord and Savior.  But if we do not or cannot answer the reality of this tragedy with the fullness of truth, then we have given evil more power than it should have.  For the truth isn’t only that the world needs a Savior, but the truth is also why we need one.  Not merely to save us from the evil of madmen who slaughter innocents; but save us from the plague of sin and death that is incubating in each and every one of us.  Believer and non.  Parent and child.  Loved and un. 

Every single person ever needs a Savior to rescue us from ourselves, for we are the germinators of death. 

Because each and every single one of us has enough sin and depravity in us (when considered from the vantage point of a holy and perfect and just God) to outweigh any good we could ever do – in collective or in individual.  There isn’t enough good in the human race—through all of history, both forward and back—to tip the scales against evil.  And it doesn’t take a massive tragedy like yesterday to prove that.  All it takes is one glance at the state of our planet, the state of our families, the state of our very hearts (our pride, or greed, or anger, or lust, or self-absorption).       

The only thing that can eradicate evil from humanity is the sacrificial death of Jesus Christ.  And while this death was a once-for-all atonement for our breaking the rules that protected all creation, even the hearts of our fellow humans (for which we each, individually, earn and germinate death), it only applies if it's accepted.  We accept this exchange of Jesus for ourselves by admitting that as individuals we are culpable in our disobedience, and that no good we ever do will be enough to pay for what we have individually destroyed of our own volition.  This acceptance requires the desire to have our debt paid for by Jesus; and to then hand over our pitiful attempts at a good life to Him, so that we may be made more like him by following his example and leaving our old life of hurtful and destructive disobedience behind.

Thus if we shield one another from the truth of our destructive ways, our human history of depravity, our personal experience with evil , then we leave no room for grace to intervene, to change the track of eternity.  We hide evil, but in doing so, we shut out Truth and we silence Love. 

Because God already acted on our behalf.  He sent his very own, only Son to die in our stead.  He choose to sacrifice His child for us.  And in doing so, He ultimately and completely defeated evil with unrelenting and incomprehensible Love. 

Practicality – How I’m handling the next few days

I will be honest, reader.  As a parent, I cannot think about the events of Friday morning.  I cannot watch the news, read social feeds, or be online.  I cannot let my mind go there – put myself in the place of those parents, picture that room, imagine what those little innocents endured.  I cannot because I don’t think I’d be able to come up for air.  I think that darkness would devour my sleep and take up permanent residence in my thoughts. 

And that’s okay, because my ruminations, my empathy, will do nothing for the situation.  I can hand it all – the little ones, their families, the first responders, the survivors, everyone – over to God.  He is the only One big enough to handle all of this pain anyway.

I will not, in a public forum, engage in conversations about gun control or mental health policies, or any other political topics roused by this tragedy.  Because, in all honesty, now is simply not the time.  Nor will I discuss theological theories about the why’s of this horror; for again, now is not the time. 

Neither will I talk about my reaction to this event.  I am not personally affected; I have no ownership of it.  Thus it is not for me to add to the noise of the crowd, thereby detracting from the real pain experienced by those touched by this tragedy.

 I will not seek out feel-good stories that will restore my faith in humanity.  Because faith in humanity is misplaced and bound to not merely disappoint, but epically and eternally fail. 

If how I’m handling these next few days feels wrong for you, know that it is okay to feel grief, even if you knew no one affected.  It is okay to be angry.  It is okay to be scared.  It is okay to be confused or conflicted (passivism v. justified action; forgiveness v. anger; fear v. unshaken faith).  It’s okay to seek out some light – in the form of stories that show the good in humanity or in circling your proverbial wagon and sharing time and love with those you hold most dear (and no, guilt has no place therein – don’t give it space); because for so many of us, we must see that the light remains, that it still exists, that hope and love can still win.  And it’s also more than okay to hand whatever you’re feeling over to the Holy Spirit, without explanation.  He knows your heart, He really doesn’t need one.     

Just be sure to fall on your knees—in grief, in fear, in anger, in confusion, in desperation.  Beg for healing, for understanding, for courage (in my case, to send my kids to school on Monday), for justice, for mercy, for Christ to come quickly.  And stay there as long as you need to. 

Then get up, and fight the darkness.  With Truth, with Love, with Light.  Be these in the world, so that Love and Truth and Light and Hope win the day.  Remind evil once again that it has its eviction notice, and that all of creation strains evermore towards that day.     

              ~Come, Lord Jesus, come.  Amen~

 

* There are parents who will choose a different path; and I am not here to defend my choice, nor to judge theirs.  The Officer and I choose to tell our children, because we felt it would be too challenging in the next few days/weeks to shield them from it and we would rather control the information and frame it in context that is appropriate for our family, instead of running damage control after the fact.      

7 tips from 13 years of married life

Yesterday was my 13^th wedding anniversary.  Because the Officer had to work, we’re celebrating today.  The man I met at new student orientation for the University of New Mexico [and then again on frat row, which is another story entirely] is now treating me to an overnight escape at a swanky hotel in downtown Denver and a VIP showing of the DAM’s “Becoming Van Gogh” exhibit.  Art isn’t exactly his thing, nor is sleeping in a bed that is a mere thirty minutes from his, but he’ll do just about anything to make me smile.  He’s a keeper. 

And yes, “escape” is just the right word for our celebration.  I’ll be quite honest, dear reader, this year was hard.  Phenomenally, unexpectedly, lingeringly hard.  And no, neither of us has come out of it unscathed.  There were internal struggles, but mostly there were external forces at work that tested the very fabric of our marriage.  But God…broke through everything we were going through and helped us focus on what really mattered: Him first [always] and each other.  The rest of it, well, it’s going to burn away, to wither and rot.  My prayer, as we put this year behind us, is that our marriage will be a testament of God’s grace in a world full of fallen people who are just like us and need nothing but to be loved.  
    
There were those who knew us way back when who wagered among themselves as to whether or not we’d last six months.  Apparently, most of our close friends and even some family felt that our union was the Seabiscuit of marriages.  I’d smirk now, except that I can take none of the credit.  I have often said that on that crisp night under the desert stars, I made a covenant with a God I didn’t know, to love in a way that I couldn’t understand a man I had, really, only just met.  Thirteen years, three states, and two children later, we are still learning what it means to honor that covenant.  What has amazed me most is that God has held me to my word, even as He held up His end of the deal; in spite of the fact that I was just a starry-eyed girl swathed in white, giddy with the prospect of being in swooning-love for the rest of forever, and who had no idea what that commitment would require of her.

 

[And here’s where I get to sound like an old, married lady:] Because today I can say without hesitation that marriage takes work.  That swooning-breathless love is possible to keep, but it requires lots and lots and lots of arduous effort to maintain; or to recover, if ever it becomes lost.  While we’re still figuring this whole two-people-becoming-one thing,  I have found the following seven points to be the ones to which we return time and again:

1.        Share each other’s interests: The boy [for really, at that point we were hardly grown-up] who took swimming and Hitchcockian film classes just to be with me is the same Officer who enjoys our Christmas tradition of the Nutcracker ballet and surprises me with art museum tours for date night.  He’s the one for whom I actually read the sports section during football season, so I might be able engage in a decent conversation about the Broncos [until Elway shirked on his word to let Tebow start and put the-reason-we’ll-be-looking-for-a-new-quarterback-in-two-years-at-best on the roster, but I digress...].  And he’s the reason I am going for a concealed carry permit; and the only person with whom I enjoy pumping iron, or summiting 14ners after tenting in the woods, or watching movies that involve centurions or Spartans or Black Hawks.  And he is absolutely the only man with whom I grapple…unless I’m attacked by a scary man in some dark alley, at which point I’ll be glad of his training me thus.  Remember that you did things that were outside of your comfort zone before you married, and you probably enjoyed them for the simple reason that you did them with your then-future spouse.  Why should that stop after the vows have been said?       

2.        Figure out each other’s weaknesses and fill in the gaps with your strengths: The Officer’s the one I call when I’m scared.  He’s talked me down from pulling our kids out of school or shadowing their every breath, he’s the level head for medical emergencies [though his deft and expert maneuvering of the car at speeds exceeding legal parameters belie his quiet concern], and the one I wake when I can’t move but know that we have to pray in the darkest watches of the night.  He is patient when I’m all out; he keeps going when I want to quit.  He can schedule the heck out of a week-long hiking trip.  And I’m the one who buys random pets [ferrets, puppies, chinchillas, and chicks], moves furniture around monthly because I can’t stand monotony, and hosts mud-pit carnivals in our backyard.  I’m also the one who edits those 20 page term papers while he teaches the 9 year old math.  He carries all the water and lets me hold little hands, pick flowers, and turn over rocks.  He takes the pictures and lets me post them on Facebook.  Face life as a team; cover each other’s blind spots and back one another up.  It will bring you closer if you can appreciate the uniqueness in your spouse and live out of yours as well. 

3.        Care for each other: The Officer’s the one who babies me:  when I’m sick, when I’m tired, when I’m both.  I’m the one who, though not great at nurturing, will cajole him into taking a nap when he can’t keep his eyes open.  When he was in school [and I wasn’t], I’d bring him snacks to help him make it through his lessons.  When I was in school [and he was, too], he’d handle dinner and the kids so that I could make it through my papers.  Sometimes he does the dishes; sometimes I take out the trash.  It’s a phone call to see if he needs anything from the store, or if I need him to start dinner.  It is simply finding little ways to show one another that s/he, and his/her time, is important to you.       

4.       Talk, talk, talk, talk.  And then talk some more: Tell each other your dreams, no matter how wild they are.  If you want to live in Paris for a year, talk about it.  Pull out maps of the city, pick places you’d live or work or eat.  Share your ideas; if you want to redecorate, show your spouse pictures; conversely, if your spouse wants to redecorate, look at his/her pictures.  If you want to write a book, start a blog, paint, teach, rebuild a car…tell your spouse.  And if your spouse wants to do those things, read their manuscript [without criticism], follow their blog, buy them a canvas, go to junk yards, or encourage them to enroll in classes.  Be his/her biggest cheerleader.  And watch as s/he believes you and begins to live out what you already knew was true about them.  Talk about what you’re learning, what you want to learn, what your day was like, what you remember about the past, what you hope for in the future.  Share who you are; learn who they are.  Communicate.  And then get up the next day and do it again.  This is absolutely vital to every marriage. 

5.        Fight.  But don’t go to bed angry: Not a single one of us is perfect.  We are going to disagree; we’re going to have times when we don’t like the other person very much.  And when two fallen people are making their way to becoming one, there are going to be fights along the way.  That doesn’t mean you throw in the towel and cut your losses; it means that you remember the promise you made, you do your very best to see your spouse through loving eyes, and be ready to sacrifice parts of your sinful and selfish self for the greater good of US.  Don’t stuff your feelings, but don’t be ruled by them either.  Do respectfully tell your spouse what hurts you; and listen to him/her as s/he tells you what hurts him/her.  But know that these problems aren’t going to be solved in a 22 minute session, complete with commercial breaks, and that the last thing on our minds before we sleep is what sticks for the day.  If it’s angry words and tearful stone-walling, then that’s what tomorrow will feel like.  If it’s apologies and finding common ground, then that’s what tomorrow will be colored with as well.  And if you see the dawn before you come to a resolution, ask yourself, is my marriage worth the lost sleep?  Is the person across from me valuable enough to sacrifice my comfort for?  And know that the answer is always, “yes.”       

6.       Get naked together.  A lot.  Yep, I purposefully followed fighting with sex, because that’s how it should work in marriage, too. Touch is one of the most powerful tools for building, or restoring, any relationship; the marriage relationship is no different.  The spectacular thing about marriage is that because it is the closest relationship, couples have been given the most beautiful, mind-blowing expression of tender intimacy.  I won’t be graphic here [my Mom reads this blog], but neither will I pretend that God didn’t intend sex for the edification and enjoyment of two married people as they express their love for one another.  Read Song of Solomon [together, ideally] and remember that God created your spouse with you in mind.  And this is the one person with whom you can be completely open and, honestly, enjoy in a way that no other person ever can.  And you can be enjoyed in such a way by your spouse as well.  Don’t ever look to outside sources for the definition of beauty; find it in your spouse.  Don’t let the world tell you what you should or shouldn’t be doing, how you should or shouldn’t be doing it, or when or where you should.  Do what you both enjoy.  And do it often.  Seriously.  Remember that I-can’t-not-touch-this-person feeling; and if you have to, hire a sitter and book a hotel room, and spend some serious time reminding one another why sex is so intoxicatingly amazing.            

7.        Be Grace-full:  The Officer is a remarkable, heroic, can’t-believe-I-get-to-be-married-to-him guy, but he still leaves his clothes beside the bed most mornings.  And I would rather do anything than fold laundry, or put it away.  Anything.  Thus he is guaranteed a mountain of clean laundry stashed somewhere in our home at any given time.  I’m sure there are a million little things that we do that have the potential to drive the other person out of their mind.  This is what happens when two lives are smashed together and are meant to blend into one.  I’m an interrupter; it’s chronic.  And yes, I know how irritating and flat out rude it is.  I hate that I do it, maybe even more than the Officer hates being interrupted.  Maybe.  But when I do, he practices grace with me.  He doesn’t lecture, he doesn’t glare; he simply waits because he knows that this tendency in me is one that requires his grace.  He can give me this grace because he fills himself upon the Grace that is freely given through the Love and Word of God; so that when the Officer is with me, he can overflow this into our marriage.  And every marriage, every life, is always in need of more grace.  Thus we encourage one another to be in God’s Word daily, we ask how the other is doing spiritually, and we pray together.  Not every day, because we’re not perfect.  But we do pray for one another daily, and seek to pray together as often as we can.  I have to encourage you to do the same; even if it’s awkward or embarrassing at first, it’s worth it.  Far more than I have time to explain here.  But always remember that you have to get Grace before you can give it; and of anyone on the planet, your spouse needs your grace most of all.           

Now, I’m not going to insult you, dear reader, by pretending that there aren’t hurts and struggles that are so much bigger than this pithy list can conquer.  And I won’t ever insinuate that by doing more or just trying harder you can, all by yourself, mend what’s wrong in a marriage.  Because marriage is two sinners trying to get their poop in a group and live life together; it requires two willing parties.  This is merely a few things I’ve found important in my own marriage; and believe me, mine has not been without struggles or dark times.  But I will tell you that in spite of the dark times, and maybe even because of them, my marriage is stronger today than it was thirteen years ago.  Or even six months ago.  Marriage is a work in progress, an organic and fluid endeavor by two sinful souls making their way through a fallen world.  But because it can be the most glorious and brightest relationship outside of one with Jesus, it is worth every ounce of effort and attention you can afford. 

May you be blessed in your marriage, may you have happiness and lasting joy, and may your marriage outlast even your own expectations!    

 

 

Recognition of Joy: the in-between spaces

Read: Psalm143

In Psalm 143, we once again find David, the man whom God hand-picked as king, crying out to the Lord.  David, amid armies who sought his destruction.  David, who seems never to be far from an audience with the Lord.  Again, David is crying out for God to save him, to rescue him from his enemies, to place his feet on solid ground again.

As I mentioned on Friday, the Officer and I have been on unsteady ground this summer.  Not with one another (thank God), but with external circumstances mounted against us.  So I can understand the “level ground” metaphor in verse 10.  I have felt like our path has been undulating beneath our feet for months now.  Sometimes jerking out from under us, sometimes turning sharply so we are thrown to our knees.  And I can’t count the number of times I’ve said to the Lord, “I’m done.  I want off this ride.  I’m so tired of it.”  Yet, with every bend, every day that we thought would bring an end to this rolling path we’re on, there has been an extension.  A date set further in the distance.  And we have had to wait.  Even more.  Again and again.  Like David, I have begged the Lord to “answer me quickly;” to “not hide [His] face from me” [v7].   Yet the answer remains imminent.  So I am left to wait.  Left to trust; left to entrust the space between my cries and His answer to the Lord [v8].

In this gloaming I, like David, must meditate on God’s works, in both my life and in history [v5].  Doing so allows me to recognize from whom my relief will come.  David repeats the same theme throughout this song:

YOUR faithfulness

YOUR name’s sake

YOUR righteousness

YOUR unfailing love.

David recognizes that the only help he can receive will be because of and directly through the LORD.  There is no other source; no one else who could affect change for David.  Not even the to-be-king himself.  Whatever the outcome, however the end to his current situation presents itself, it will only be because of God’s faithful, righteous, and unfailing love.  And it will only be for the glory of God’s great name.

So in my time of waiting on wave rippled roads, I resolve to waiting.  For joy is the recognition of whence my rescue comes.  And worship can be waiting right where you are, for the answer you know is forthcoming.    

"I Will Wait" by Mumford & Sons





What Joy looks like through tears

Read: Job 1:13-22, Psalm 142

source

Today was hard.  I had to let go of something that has been a source of deep and abiding joy for me.  And yes, I waited until the last possible moment; hoping for the hail Mary pass that didn’t come.   Instead, I’m left praying it’s not a permanent release.  Yet if it is, God is still sovereign.  This morning also brought with it news that has the ability to stifle hope.  Again.  And the Officer and I, together, are still smack-in-the-middle of a time of decided trial which has been marked with a series of false peaks and mirages; this wilderness has consumed a quarter of our year, and still we have no respite in sight.  Another beloved of my heart has had news of the life-altering flavor; and I can’t but hurt with them.           

So a resolution to joy may seem forced.  But joy isn’t a painted on smile and an “everything’s peachy-keen” attitude.  Joy might be recognition of who attends your situation; the acknowledgement of the One from whom your strength, on the weariest, days comes.    

In the first chapter of Job and Psalm 142, we find two men encountering different varieties of the pain a fallen world can provide.  Both Job and David knew what to do in times of hurt; times of grotto dwelling and ash sitting.  Each first recognized the hurt they felt, and then proclaimed God sovereign over his circumstance.

Within the space of four verses, Job loses his entire fortune, all of his servants, and each one of his children.  We could understand how Job could have lost every shred of joy.  And we do see Job react to the news in an emotionally appropriate way: he tore his clothes and shaved his head in mourning.  Yet immediately afterward, he fell to the ground

…and worshiped.

We are told that in his proclamation that “naked [he] came from [his] mother’s womb; and naked will [he] depart.  The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised,” Job “did not sin by charging God with wrongdoing.”[1]  Job recognized the sovereignty of God, in spite of and even through his circumstances.  And so while he was in full mourning (and appropriately so), Job demonstrated what scriptural joy in crappy situations looks like.

David is known for crying out to God in every situation, good or bad.  In Psalm 142, he cries out to God for mercy and rescue.    He proclaims an expectation that God will be good to him.  He says that the Lord is his refuge, even when rescue is in the future tense.  Speaking thus, David is able to decry his circumstance and still claim God as sovereign over even the situations (and people) that have driven David into hiding, into literally skulking about in a cave, fearing for his life and the as-yet-to-be-made-real promises of Almighty God.  
         
Thus, I submit that joy is neither circumstantial, nor does it mean faking happiness.  Joy allows for truth in our emotions.  We can cry, we can mourn, we can say that our situation sucks.  So long as, at the end of the day, we land firmly on the truth that God is God.  And He is sovereign over our stuff, our circumstances; and He is deserving of our worship.  Even if all we can say is, “You are God.”

On days like Job’s or David’s, even my today, joy looks like breathing.   In and out.  In and out.   

And worship can simply mean saying, “God reigns.” 

---

[1] Job 1:21-22

Exacting Grace

“Grace always shocks.  Grace always stuns.  Grace is always what we need.” 

~Anne Voskamp

In the uncluttering of my spirit, the spring cleaning of my soul, I happened across a memory.  Something long burried in the back of my mind that, with hindsight, I find holds more value than I imagined at the time.  A truth, hidden away when it was too immediate and raw to recognize.  But truth, whenever it is given is always a treasure.  Sometimes one just has to rediscover it.

It had been a dark day.  One of the darker in lengthy memory.  My skin wasn’t racking just yet, calling for the pain to be lanced out of it.  But I was at that precipice.  The swirl of three- day long conversations churning in my mind.  My heart expanding panic, and my spirit tweeking like a meth-freak, unable to sit still, wringing and clawing at the cause of all of this. 

Knowing the conversation had to happen, if I were to ever rest.  Yet more afraid of the other side of those words, the potential of all I stood to lose. 

Barbed Wire Fence in Field, by Paul Mutton

Fences are hard to build.  Necessary to keep what’s important in.  And what’s harmful out.    

I had the conversation.  I swallowed, fear playing Zozobra in my stomach, and said what had to be spoken.  The tread finding purchase on this new road to healing.  Though the path is still entirely uncertain, the journey itself is begun.  Or at least restarted.  If one is honest, it was begun years ago. 

But what is there, after tears?  After boundaries raised, and respected?  There is quiet.  Too much aloneness.

Her e-mail came through, afterward.  These things have a dividing before- and after- effect on the soul.  Like a tornado, when one has lived through enough of them, you can feel them coming through the rain. 

She spoke only of a vivid dream.  “Jesus came to me and told me to email you,” she said.  “He said to tell you, from him,

‘I accept you.’” 

Tender explanation followed, because she couldn’t know that my heart didn’t need one.  “It was this encompassing I accept all of you--accept your heart, accept your belief, accept your love, and I hold it dear-- way.”  She woke and argued, why not “I love you?”  Why just “accept?”  Then she sent the e-mail anyway.  Because love is obedient. 

But he always knows exactly what to say.

The tears returned, though not the searing kind fraught with worry and pain.  These were cool, to wash the wounds of my soul. 

All of me.  Without reservation.  Without even a pause for breath.  The Yes! that precedes even the question. 

                Unconditional.

He knew that is what I needed.  Right then.  And not just from him.  But from a temporal mouth as well.  He does not exist alone; he is always* in loving relationship with his Father and the Spirit.  And we are not to exist alone either. 

His answer to my wounds isn’t just unconditional, all-encompassing love and acceptance, though it is enough; his answer is also a relationship.  A fellow warrior to combat the loneliness; to walk beside me, hurting when I hurt, covering me when I’m too broken, and dancing when I am filled with joy.

                A never alone proposition, straight from his heart and her computer.        

 Grace has many expressions.  But it is always just the right one, for precisely the right time. 

May you, dear one, be open to this surprising grace of his.  And may you have someone who is willing to share it with you, even when its forms seem at first blush less than expected. 

Because his sufficiency is exacting.  And his grace-filled love never fails.  For he can create beauty in even the hard places.

Origin

*The only moment in eternity when this wasn't true, the dividing, before-and-then-after moment when creation cried out in unison, was on cross.  When the Father turned his face away from the Son, and their eternal communion was broken.  For the sake of every soul ever.  So that those who would choose to accept this grace, might be saved.  And live.