A Culture of Onlys

A door is always slightly open when I sit across from my husband on a date night, talking politics, religion, life from the varying views of a Christian and a Skeptic. My greatest witness is sharing with him that Christ is still possible beyond the man-declared onlys —Only way to think, only way to be, and only way to act...on political issues, on church establishments, on how we should view and treat those around us...mostly those onlys that in the end, stray from the very example Christ set. The world typically sees many camp in the notion that as long as it is spoken in His name, it’s an okay only.

Pharisaical? Maybe. Human? Yes.

I have seen it happening more and more, and I feel more and more desperate to denounce such things for the sake of souls, for the sake of a Name that’s being crucified over and over because of false claims. 

If I am honest, I preached the trivial for so long, I demanded that I knew it all, enlightened and confident—and then I broke and realized such knowing was so, so very human of me. 

How could I have thought so small when my God is so big? 

I have yet to discover an argument that disproves God—but I have heard many arguments that turn people away from Him. 

I beg you arguers out there, consider your words, are they worth a soul? Do you share Christ, or an opinion of who you might want Him to be because He seems safe—for you? 

I ask myself: Do I argue points because it is easy to explain away, or because it is true? Am I so bold to risk the soul of just one because my certainty is so important? 

Like my pastor is known to say, I hope to be more curious than certain. May I allow the God of the Universe be the Heart-changer and the Way-maker—not because of  the explanations and accusations of man, but mostly despite them.

After all, His ways are not our ways...I pray that I always remember that when I think I know better. And I hope I continue to seek the Truth of Christ in the actual Gospel, not the one that crops from a culture of Onlys.

Keeping the Peace At What Cost?

My daughter has let her light shine around here. It has been an amazing, awkward thing. Two years ago, I would have been over-joyed, texting my husband first thing to tell him her latest "prophetess" behavior.
Two years ago.
But now, I cringe when Daddy's in the room and my little girl starts gabbing about Jesus, and Jonah, and Peter...and...every.single.thing.Christian.parents.teach.their.kids.

SIGH...................................................................................................

It's like a heating pot of water. Every mention of the latest Bible story that she learns heats up that water a few degrees, provoking a look, or a comment, or an unspoken tension. The bubbles are coming, I can feel it. And I never thought it would be easier to stuff it and ignore the fire lit in my child's heart than to fight for her chance to know.

But sadly, this morning I thought it is easier to try and ignore it now--even when my little girl gets her facts mixed up and says that Jesus walking on water is "magic" instead of a "miracle". I just laugh and eye my husband who is not too impressed. It keeps the peace around here. Funny, because not long after the latest exchange of Daddy's sarcasm and my daughter's child-like faith, I sat in Bible study and learned about the dangers of peacekeepers.

I was very nearly falling into the pit of keeping the peace at all costs. Ignoring the little girl dancing around singing about Jesus, and missing my chance to solidify her teachings. Because I just don't want that tension anymore between my husband and me.

But, at what cost?

At the cost of a sweet child's heart missing the sowing of God's lessons? At the cost of failing as the spiritual guide of my children?

The cost is too great.

After Bible study, I took my little girl by the shoulders and looked her straight in the eye, and I affirmed her understanding of the latest Bible story and corrected her.
"How did Jesus walk on water?" I asked.
"Magic!" She smiled.
"No. It was a miracle. And miracles are things only God can do."
I know it sunk in, because later, her daddy asked me if I taught her the difference between a miracle and magic. My daughter was informing him that she knew. ;)

I have been very careful. I try to respect my husband's hot topics like Evolution, and legend vs. truth, and I try to give my kids a chance to think for themselves and draw conclusions about different things. But there are just some things I cannot ignore, because I answer to my God first and foremost.

And, that's just the messiness of life now-a-days. It's not the pretty package our pastors teach us about love and respect. Sometimes, you have to close your eyes to the black and white, and listen to the Spirit within.

Where is respect due...to whom? My husband or my God? Tough question. And if our marriage was on the solid foundation of Christ, then this would be a whole different conversation.

Believe me, I know how important respect is in a marriage. SOOOO very important (both ways). And I certainly have much growing to do in that area even fifteen years later. But, there are just some things that respect falls short--like denying a guiding hand in my child's faith.

Can't respect that. A miracle is so much better than magic.

Waiting for our own miracle around here. And praying God's peace--not the temporal peace around this house--the Spirit's peace, no matter the circumstance. The temporal peace around here is worth a pretty penny, but not at all worth more than the faith of my children.

Three Times a Change.

I am not quite sure why I have been avoiding a post on here.

Perhaps it is because I am in the middle of a writing groove on my current story (which is always nice).

And perhaps it is because my roller-coaster life poured out in blog-post fashion might cause a little reader-whip-lash. It just seems tiresome to write a post that will, inevitably, be in-valid in the near future because of the newest development in my journey.

Yeah, this desert has been anything but flat and uneventful.

But, something I have noticed, that has been pretty consistent, and a desperate oasis amidst the suffocating sand storms, is El Roi.

The God Who Sees... sees me.

And hears me.

I get to places where I never thought my soul would tread, where the heat of skepticism and crushing pain promise to burn my heart to ash, and I sit there in a shocking state of hopelessness.

Never before had I felt anguish like I have this past year...but I do, and now I understand the same feeling David felt when he had been betrayed by the one he'd looked up to for so long. Funny, I took a study about David exactly a year before I journeyed into these similar emotional battlefields as he once had.

Last night, I was in that place again. The burning place of hopelessness. And I cried to God, "Where are you? Will you show up!" Because I honestly thought I could not do this anymore. My heart had nothing left to give.

And I went to bed numb, and lost.

Only to awake to affirmation threefold (as always...God often affirms me or works in me in three different ways during a pivotal moment of my walk).

First, a text from a spiritual sister who I haven't talked to in weeks. She said that she felt a strong urge to pray for me and that she sensed that I needed it badly. She gave me the verses, Ephesians 6:10-13 -

" Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of His might. 11 Put on the full armor of God, so that you will be able to stand firm against the schemes of the devil. 12 For our struggle is not against [a]flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places. 13 Therefore, take up the full armor of God, so that you will be able to resist in the evil day, and having done everything, to stand firm."

Let's just say, sweet drink of confirmation in my battle...in my thirst for understanding as to what the heck this is all about.

Secondly, as I got ready for church, I dropped to my knees in deep conviction to confess to God. And suddenly, I was given some wisdom on how to move forward in all of this. And it had something to do with remembering that verse above, and mostly, the word God gave me in another enlightening moment long ago when my journey in this desert of spiritually mis-matched marriage began:

L.O.V.E

LOVE!!! Why do I forget the meaning of that word? Why do I forget the perfect model of the perfect Person who perfected Love in such an attainable way? I fall into the trap of conditional love time and time again. No wonder I stumble into hopelessness. That kind of love has no hope in it.

It was at church where God sealed this revelation of my next step in the journey. You know, that perfect sermon that needed to be heard (I even had a close friend who knows my struggle, call me to be sure I was going to church this morning)...Did he write it for me? He talked about that battle above, the Person I had kinda ignored because of the trials before me...and then, of course the sermon reminded me of Hope...and... L.O.V.E. You know, all you need is...
Because He loved us first.

Tonight, I sat across from my husband on a quick date night, and I accepted him and I apologized to him for my resentment and conditional love. It was the weirdest moment because I took the time to form the words, sitting there for minutes in silence...knowing my husband was wondering if the "D" word was going to crush our coffee cups between us...and I spoke. And then I realized all this time, I have not given him the compassion and love he needs...and he needs it, because he is hurt and he is lonely and he is stuck. I think this whole thing is bigger than a proclamation of Atheism on his part. So much bigger than a statement.

It's a heart change.

And it's not just about his heart change to disbelief. It is just as much about mine.

And God keeps telling me, and I listen for a little, then I forget, and I keep roaming this desert ready to die of exhaustion.

Praying that this time, I learn...I don't want this journey to last like it has in the past for those Israelites.

40 years is too long!