I'm like Peter

I am a self-professed doubter.  I’ve discussed this previously.  Time and time again God shows up and answers me in so many ways, but when my back is up against the wall and even sometimes when it isn’t the doubts creep inside my head. 

Case in point (and yes I’ve also written about this before) every single time I get home late at night and start the arduous search for a parking spot.  On these dreaded occasions I begin my conversation with God,  “Oh Lord please show me favor in finding a spot.  We been hard at work for the kingdom and could really use a spot close to our building, etc…”  Now some of you might think it silly that I make such a deal out of praying for a parking spot, but if that’s the case, clearly you must not live in NYC and have 3 crying/whining/hungry children in your backseat.  During these moments the fear of searching for over an hour (yes this has occurred but usually to R. not me) literally paralyzes me.  I start out praying with such faith, but inevitably after a few laps around the block I begin to doubt that God will come through.  This is followed by a good dose of guilt, because really and truly God answering a prayer about a parking spot shouldn’t be the end all and be all.  At some point I tend to break down as I imagine my children starving and bawling for hours on end with no spot in sight, and just as I begin my cry fest, a spot appears for me!

Why oh why do I doubt God in the first place?  The bible is chalk full of verses telling me to have faith and not doubt.  In fact many verses suggest that if I doubt at all I won’t be able to do much.  Case in point, I could move a mountain, but not if I have doubt. 

Yet I can think of at least one example of someone in the bible who lacked faith and doubted God would help him in his time of need.  That guy was Peter and when Jesus walked on water he called Peter out on to the water with him.  And just like me, at first Peter stepped out in faith…but then he doubted Jesus and boom down he went into the water!  What gets to my heart though is what happened next.  Technically Jesus should have left Peter to flounder in the water.  After all he had failed the test of his trust.  But Jesus doesn’t do that.  Here’s the verse: “Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him…” Matthew 14:31.  Jesus didn’t even make Peter wait.  He grabbed him right up and then asked him why he had doubted. 

I feel like God graciously does the same for me.  I don’t want to be a doubter, but sometimes I am.  Instead of punishing me for that, he doesn’t. In place of a slap on the wrist, He answers me.  Time and time again this happens and I have to believe with my heart that in the end of it all, my doubts will no longer have any place in me.

This is my song today and every day really:  Enjoy!

The End/The Beginning

So I have no idea if any of you who read this blog every struggle with my greatest struggle.  I’m going to share it because I’m sort of hoping I’m not alone.  I read a verse in the bible this morning that sort of got me thinking about it and I happen to also be reading the book of Ecclesiastes right now, which is super depressing if you struggle with what I do. 

Here it is:  At any given moment in my day I am usually in some form or another thinking about how short life is.  I think about it every time I look at my kids and see how big they’ve gotten.  I think about it when I see old pictures, especially wedding pictures or pictures of my kids as babies.  I walk around and go about my day, but always in my head I am thinking about how my life is like this little whiff of eternity.  It’s nothing.  I will blink and it will be over. 

When I think about that I feel sad even though I shouldn’t feel sad.  God has promised me an eternity with Him, so obviously I believe that I have so much more to live for once my earthly life is done.  But even that, I just can’t wrap my mind around the notion of forever.  Everything I know and understand begins and it ends.  I have no concept of what foreverness will be.  Even though it’s promised to be wonderful, I still have no idea what it will be like.  So because everything I experience is here and now, I get very nostalgic and sad when I think about how short life really is. 

The only time I am not bothered by this is when I am in the presence of God, seeking His face, or doing something for Him that I know He wants me to do.  That’s when I am free of my thoughts and I feel like heaven could happen for me right then and there and off I’d go. 

I wonder if anyone else thinks like me?  Do other people really ponder the fact that their life is so very, very short?  If not, do they brush it aside?  I mean how can you not live with the reality that your life will be over at some point and the point will come quicker than you can imagine?  But I reading this verse this morning got me thinking: “He seldom reflects on the days of his life, because God keeps him occupied with gladness of heart.” Ecclesiastes 5:20 NIV84.   I think that must be true.  So many people think so little about eternity, until they come face to face with it at the end.   But it’s not really God who keeps our mind occupied, it’s the stuff we busy ourselves with.  It’s keeping busy and keeping our mind off of what’s going to happen when all is said and done.

Apologies for this entry being a bit of a rambler.  Basically, instead of brushing my thoughts to the side and doing everything in my power to have the happiest life I can before it’s over, I’ve determined to do something else.  Because life is pretty much nothing in comparison to eternity, I’ve decided to live for that.  Everything has eternal significance.  When all is said and done, I want to have loved as much as I could, served as many as I could, given all that I have, for the only One who really matters.  Only because of Jesus can I live like that.  

Hush!...Secrets of the Worst Mom of the Year

Recently I was speaking to a newer friend and sharing with her some of my past struggles to come to terms with my role as a mother.  I told her I used to use motherhood as an excuse for why I couldn’t do more for God.  She smiled at me, laughed, and said, “Wow you are so real.  I have never heard anybody be so honest about themselves off the bat before.” 

Another similar story: I was at the school yard the other day in the afternoon and another newer friend who I up until that point I had only conversed with when we were both with a mutual friend, showed up with her two little boys.  She looked exhausted and was suffering from a cold.  After a few moments of sharing how her boys wouldn’t nap that day, how exhausted and newly pregnant she was, and how she had spent a good deal of the morning yelling at her kids; she broke down in tears.  Wanting to comfort her, but not knowing her all that well, I blurted out that I also often yell at my kids.  No I am not proud of that fact.  Yes I would probably prefer that nobody know that about me.  But at that moment she was really struggling and maybe, just maybe hearing that she wasn’t the worst mom in the universe was what she needed to hear.  After spilling my own guts, she looked up at me and said,  “No one ever admits to that. I feel like I’m the only one”. 

Why is that?  Why so often to we hide our faults, shortcomings, and weaknesses?  We should be sharing our struggles not hiding them.   It’s important for so many reasons.  No matter what is challenging us, our tempers, problems with our kids, our struggle to conceive children, our own guilt that we hide in the closet; what we really need to do is bring it out into the open.  Perfection is a nasty façade and it’s one that is eating women up.  By being truly real with those around us, we allow them to be real to.  When that happens we can support, love, and lift each other up. 

Sometimes when I see another mom who is hurting and struggling, my first instinct is to shout out, “Over here!  Look at me!  The worst mom of the year award should be mine!  I yell at my kids way more than I should.  I let them watch too much T.V.  They eat sugar, and sometimes drink chocolate milk!   I should probably read them more books and do more crafts with them.  They don’t do soccer, art class, or play a musical instrument!”  I would say all of that to them and more if it would make them feel better.  Because you know what?  We’re all imperfect.  The only reason I don’t hate myself for being the worst mom of the year is because I have a God who loves me despite all my flaws.  Oh He loves me so much!  Best of all He loves me just the way I am, but loves me too much to leave me that way.  So He’s working on me and each day I’ll be a little bit of a better mom.  I don’t have to bear the burden of guilt because He bears it for me. 

I really wish we would all just be honest about how things are really going.  It would be the first step towards things going much better.

First Snow!

I was struck this morning by the ability of children to be utterly amazed at the smallest things.  It’s only the beginning of November and we got snow last night.  Some areas got a lot of snow, but our NYC neighborhood only had maybe a slushy inch.  It really wasn’t much to get excited about.  But as we left our apartment this morning to head to school I watched my boys, elated to be wearing snow boots for the first time this season (which they insisted on wearing despite my protests), stomping, tromping, and jumping on every small patch of snow they could find.  They were gleeful, hollering to each other, “Look snow!  I’m jumping in it! Here’s more!”  On our way to school we pick up a friend’s two daughters ever day.  As I loaded the girls into the car they had the same look of awe on their faces.  “Look! Look at the snow on my mitten!” one of them shouted looking down at maybe four granules of snow.  As we drove to school they all made plans to build snowmen, make snowballs, go sledding.  I dared not burst their excitement bubble with reality.

As I made my way home after herding them into the school building, I thought to myself how pure their joy was.  Children find it in the simplest places and with the simplest things.  As adults we’ve really lost that ability. We’re so caught up in our daily responsibilities that we forget to take in the small miraculous things happening all around us.  Today I’m thankful to God for children, who remind me to take a minute to stop my hectic life, take a deep breath, and really enjoy something the way they do. 

He is in the Hurricane

My heart is as heavy as it is amazed.  Hearing the story of two little boys swept out of their mother’s arms in this storm is too devastating to even wrap my mind around.  At the very same time, I am in awe of how God protected all of the babies at NYU; little tiny things who were relying on respirators to breathe and yet not a single one lost their life while being evacuated.  I think it’s impossible to fully comprehend why God chose to protect some and let others go.  I don’t think we’re supposed to.  It seems so unfair right?

But what if God protected us from every disaster?   What if not one life was ever taken tragically?  What if there were never tragedies in the first place?  What would happen?  The bible actually answers this:

For I envied the arrogant


when I saw the prosperity of the wicked

They have no struggles;


their bodies are healthy and strong.

They are free from the burdens common to man;
    

they are not plagued by human ills.

Therefore pride is their necklace;
    

they clothe themselves with violence.

From their callous hearts comes iniquity;
   

 the evil conceits of their minds know no limits.

They scoff, and speak with malice;
   

 in their arrogance they threaten oppression.

Their mouths lay claim to heaven,
  

  and their tongues take possession of the earth.

Therefore their people turn to them
 

   and drink up waters in abundance. 

They say, “How can God know?
   

Does the Most High have knowledge?”  Psalm 73:4-11 NIV84

If our lives were entirely free from pain and suffering, we would turn our backs on the God who created us.  His primary concern is not for our personal earthly happiness and security.  It’s for our heart to be turned to Him.  When bad things happen we look to God for comfort, for reassurance, and for hope.  He gladly provides it.   We also look to each other for support.  Suddenly neighbors are reaching out to help each other.  People are putting others before themselves.  We toss our own selfishness to the side for a moment and really care for people.   It would be nice if it did, but it just doesn’t happen when all is well in the world. 

So while I don’t understand why some were spared and others were not, I don’t have to.  I can trust in God who knows all things.  I can pray He would comfort the ones who are hurting and draw them into His arms.  I can thank Him for miraculously saving others.  I’ll close by including some of the lyrics from a song I listened to today by Big Daddy Weave, “The Hurt and the Healer”:

Why?

The question that is never far away

But healing doesn't come from the explained

Jesus please don't let this go in vain

You're all I have, all that remains

So here I am

What's left of me

Where Glory meets my suffering

CHORUS

I'm alive

Even though a part of me has died

You take my heart and breathe it back to life

I fall into Your arms open wide

When the hurt and the Healer collide

Protection

Not my companion but this is pretty much
what they all looked like

Sometimes I ponder the ways God has protected me from danger that I am completely unaware of.  Truly we have no idea how He has altered our paths time and time again to keep something horrible from happening to us.  It could be many times in a single day.  I hope someday when I finally meet God face to face, He’ll show me a picture of how He protected me over the course of my lifetime.

Of course occasionally we find ourselves in direct situations where we experience God’s protection in our lives in a way that we can’t deny that His hand kept us from imminent danger.  This happened to me fourteen years ago when I went to live and study for a semester in Costa Rica.

It was my second day in the country and our group of American exchange students met up for an orientation to our new city.  We each had been placed to live for the semester with local families and because we didn’t yet know our way around or how to use public transportation we were supposed to be dropped off and picked up directly by our host family. 

As we were toured around the city I noticed something quite distasteful.  The city was chalk full of scary, mangy, feral dogs.  They were everywhere.  Now while I love a cute cuddly puppy, I’ve never been a big dog lover.  These dogs were down right scary to look at and when I saw one I tried to get far, far away. 

By the end of the long day of introductions and loads of new information we gathered in the city plaza to await our rides back to our homes.  One by one my classmates were picked up.  Finally I found myself the lone exchange student waiting on my ride.  This was the era prior to the common use of cell phones so the program director had to use a pay phone to call my family.  He returned and reassured me they were on their way and would be there shortly.  He then left me there in the middle of the plaza to wait for them.  Looking back on that I really cannot believe he just left me there alone, a young 20 year old women in a foreign country with absolutely no way to contact him or anyone else should something happen.

I waited for a while and it began to get dark.  For any of you that have ever traveled to Central or South America, the cities all have these huge plazas and after dark these places can become home to all kinds of vagrants and unsavory types.  Sure enough as it got darker I began to notice some intoxicated men and other “sketchy” individuals walking nearby.  At that moment I had that panicky pit of my stomach feeling you feel when you are in danger.  What was I going to do if they approached me?  I frantically looked around me and noticed sitting nearby was one of those feral dogs I had seen roaming the streets.  “Great.” I thought.  “I’m going to be attacked by a drunk and a dog!.”  I wanted to run but I didn’t have anywhere to go.  Soon a few of the loitering men began to approach me speaking in slurred Spanish.  But just as they took two more steps in my direction the craziest thing happened.  The dog jumped up and lunged at them, biting one of them.   The startled men hurried away.

Over the course of the next half hour or so the dog barked wildly gnashing its teeth at anyone who walked even remotely near me.  If nobody was walking nearby the dog stood or sat close to my side.  I could hardly believe what I was seeing.  I had never seen this dog before in my life.  It didn’t know me, yet it sensed it needed to protect me.  Eventually, probably at least an hour after I had been left by the director in the plaza, my host family finally showed up to retrieve me.  As I drove off with them, I made eye contact with that stringy, dingy dog and silently whispered, “Thank you.”

I believe with all my heart God sent that dog to protect me.  Don’t believe it?  That’s okay, but I just cannot chalk that experience up to chance.  Sometimes I struggle with why God places His protection on some and not others.  I know He doesn’t promise I will always have His protection physically.  Spiritually yes, physically no.  Thankfully I know that His ways are not mine.  His reasons are not always understood.  I have to trust that because He is God.  I did not create Him.  He created me.  Maybe He protected me that day because He knew someday I would tell the story.  All I know is I am so very thankful for that little dog and for my God who sent him to me.

Tolerance

I’ve been thinking lately due to a number of reasons about what it means to be tolerant.  People around me talk often about looking for a place where people are tolerant and open minded.  They respect that ideal.  But what does tolerance really mean?

 Am I intolerant if what I believe to be true doesn’t match with yours?  Am I intolerant if I am not open minded, meaning I hold certain values to be right and not others?  What if my mind set doesn’t match yours?  If open mindedness walks hand in hand with tolerance, then only people who believe everything can be true are truly tolerant.  Personally I don’t really see how that’s even possible.  Everything cannot be true.  Everything cannot be right.  So if you can only tolerate those with your mindset, even if your mindset is open-mindedness, then you aren’t being tolerant either.  Tolerance does not mean an acceptance or support of a lifestyle or set of beliefs.

Here’s what I believe tolerance to be: Tolerance means I accept you as being a valuable human being even if I disagree with what you think is right or what you believe.  Tolerance means I believe you are worthy of love even if we disagree.  Tolerance means I hope we can be friends and share meaningful conversation even if our view points differ.  Tolerance walks hand in hand with love.