The Power of Secrets

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions

Secrets

From my 2009 Journal. Last night I watched the movie The Mayor of Casterbridge—based on Thomas Hardy’s novel. It’s an interesting contrast between two characters. Henchard is a drunkard who, when under the influence of drink, auctions off his wife and child and then repents and regrets it. He then vows not to drink for 21 years and becomes the mayor in another town, though he’s not very gentle with his employees (he has a grain business). Farfrae, meanwhile, is the protagonist (the Christ-figure in some aspects) as he exhibits love and grace and graciousness even when wronged.

But the main theme of the story is the power of secrets. We’re not talking about temporary secrets such as Christmas presents or birthday surprises. These secrets are meant to be revealed eventually and are for the benefit of another person. Hidden secrets, on the other hand, hold power over us, propel us to do wrong things, and impact others negatively. They cover us with shame and fear of the consequences if they are discovered. We can become a slave to the one who discovers our secret and who holds it over us like a weapon.

What difference might the consequences be if one revealed one’s secret immediately rather than waiting for 30 years to expose it? Sharing one’s secret, however, must be done carefully—to a trusted person—else one becomes further traumatized.

Chronic Physical Pain

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions

Pain pexels-photo-922436

From my 2009 Journal. I have learned a lot about handling physical pain through observing my friends who live with chronic conditions.

Friend #1: Rarely offers information, but will willingly answer my inquiries about her health. One day I asked her why. She said, “My mom was in constant pain and everyone knew it because she told you so . . . constantly. And I determined not to be like her.”

Friend #2: Occasionally mentions her chronic pain but never complaining, always enduring. “People don’t like to hear about your pain,” she observed. “I WILL praise God in the midst of it.”

Friend #3: Uses what she’s learned to teach others. “I have learned from my pain; now let me teach you. God is enough. He gives me strength.”

Friend #4: Everyone knows about her pain—because it’s the main focus and topic of every conversation. “Why doesn’t God do something about it?!”

Since I have not been tested yet in this area, I wonder how I will respond someday when it’s my turn?

Do What You Can

Posted on by under Prayer

She has done what she could. Mark 14:8 (NKJV)

[Context: the woman with the alabaster jar of precious nard who poured it on Jesus’ head]

From my 2012 Journal. I worry so often about what I cannot do, but when I feel limited, what if I would simply “Do what I can” instead?

What’s holding me back from getting adequate exercise, for example? The wrong focus. I can’t before breakfast because . . . I can’t do it at night because . . . How pathetic my excuses sound! What if, just for once, I tried doing what I CAN do? Then, perhaps, I might see some change.

When it comes to prayer, I feel so inadequate. I opened my reminder list this morning to begin my petitions and recalled Daniel’s prayer—first he thanked God and then he petitioned. Uh-oh. Did I pray in the right order? Did I do it right? And then I realize I’m placing myself back under a “should.”

Boo boo 2

My daughter Cindy with Ben eating spaghetti (comfort food)

God reminds me of the many times my girls would run into the room and ask, “May I go play with [whoever]?” or “I’ve got a boo-boo; need a kiss and a Band-aid.” They don’t need to get down on one knee and formally enter my presence and thank me for being their parent before they blurt out their request. I am not offended if they don’t first tell me how wonderful I am as a mom.

At the end of the day, when all is quiet and still, it is a delight to have my daughters crawl up into my lap and cuddle and pour out their woes and hurts and struggles. And it is a joy to help them work through their issues or give them bits of wisdom to carry them through their day.

And so I see myself running the length of the Throne Room and flinging myself into my Abba Father’s arms and telling Him: I have some playmates who need Your help. Just want to bring them to Your attention. I know You have the universe to run and enemies to battle, but my playmates have boo-boos that need tending to. It’s my little petition … my little attempt to fix things in the kingdom. And of course I know He already knows about them. He has servants all over the kingdom and guardians already attending to those little ones. He knows. He cares. But He’s glad that I’m concerned too. He has it all under control, “but thanks for bringing it to My attention.” He’s glad I’m cultivating compassion in my heart.

Pray how you can, not how you can’t. (Monastic advice)

The Nonsense of Fashion

Posted on by under Choices

From my 2015 Journal. I have been rebelling against fashion since I was in junior high. When girls at my boarding school were begging to wear shorter skirts, I insisted on lowering my hems. One day in Home Economics class we discussed what colors complemented each other. Apparently wearing orange and pink together was a no-no (We hadn’t hit the psychedelic 70s yet). And so, on a dare from my roommate, I agreed to put together a skirt/blouse combo that clashed and to wear it to breakfast that morning.

I was proud of the fact that I had enough guts to go against established “rules of fashion” and be my own person. I felt confident enough in who I was to pull off the dare. But, to my chagrin, one of the Aunties pulled me aside to inform me that what I was wearing was a less than desirable combination of colors.

I felt indignant. How could she think so little of me? Even when I informed her that I wasn’t ignorant, that it was done on a dare, the damage in my soul was done. I felt embarrassed where before I felt confident.

I take this emotion to Jesus, and He smiles.

“Why are You smiling?” I ask.

“I love that you have self-confidence to be who you are. Never mind the Auntie. She didn’t know. It was her motherly-instruction side coming out. Wear whatever you choose—with confidence.”

But then I remember what it was like when my own girls entered junior high. Suddenly I was being compared to “cool” mothers who dressed fashionably while my girls were feeling mortified that their mom was stuck in the Dark Ages. “She grew up in Africa,” seemed to excuse away my ignorance, though truthfully I had fully embraced my mother’s mantra “comfort before fashion” and “inner beauty is more valuable than outward clothing.”

Today, after getting a better handle on my temperament and how I’m wired, I realize my fashion choices are really less about my upbringing, and more about being comfortable with who I am. I still admit to ignorance about what’s in or out. My daughter Sharon says it’s because I don’t really care, and perhaps she’s right. But since I don’t want to appear like I just stepped off the boat, I usually take her or a trusted friend along when I go clothes shopping (though I maintain the right of refusal if their tastes are too far removed from mine).

Like most Missionary Kids felt when they returned to their passport country, I preferred not to look like a total misfit.  I’ll never forget the lime-green, cast-off dress donated to me by some well-meaning soul during one furlough. How was I to know that my peers would whisper about it behind my back?

Does what I wear offend you? Do you think less of me for it? What I choose to wear reflects who I am—and if I like who I am, that’s what’s important. Stand tall, stand “proud.” Be confident in who God made you to be. (P.s. in Michigan it’s acceptable to wear socks with sandals. Just sayin’.)

Sandals 2

Why Have You Forsaken Me?

Posted on by under Emotions, God, Prayer

cross

Around three o’clock, Jesus cried out with a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” which means, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Mark 15:34 (NET)

From my 2016 Journal. A victim often asks the question, “Where were You, God, when the abuse happened?” In my experience, God seldom answers the “why” question immediately. Generally, there’s an emotion (often anger) standing in the way, behind the “why” that needs to be addressed first.

I believe it was Jesus’ humanity speaking when He asked, “Why have You, Abba Father, forsaken Me?” In my opinion, contrary to many preachers and songs that claim that the Father turned His back on His Son, God had NOT forsaken Him. Never! But in this moment of extreme physical torture, head throbbing from thirst, body in tatters, fighting to breathe, bruised and battered, His back on fire as it rubbed against the wood, three hours felt like an eternity. One minute would be more than the average man could handle. Minute by minute agony, waiting for the end to come. Wishing it to just be over.

Jesus had intimate communion with His Papa all along. He’d wrestled with His own will just twelve hours earlier and submitted to His Father’s plan. But in one’s pain, it’s hard to focus, to think, to use logic. The focus is all on the removal of pain.

“Where are You, Father? I can’t feel You near. I can’t see You or hear You.”

The abused take it a step further: “You could have chosen to stop it and You didn’t; what kind of a cruel God are You, anyway?”

Jesus’ anguished cry could not include sin or blasphemy or lies. “Why have You forsaken Me? It FEELS like You have.”

Jesus is quoting Psalm 22. The words, “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?” are only the first few words of verse one. The rest says, “I groan in prayer, but help seems far away.” (Note the word seems.)

Verse 19 declares, “But you, O LORD, do not remain far away! You are my source of strength! Hurry and help me!”

Jesus knew the whole Messianic Psalm by heart. It’s a Psalm of agony and truth, but it ends in triumph. Jesus knew this had to be His lot in order to fulfill prophecy.  He did not have the physical strength to quote the entire Psalm, but He could begin it, and those Jews who heard it would immediately recognize its source and be able to fill in the rest.

The abuse victim cries out, “Where were You, God? Why did You forsake me?”

And the Father gently replies, “I was there all along.”

Should I or Shouldn’t I?

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions, Peace, Scripture

Teach us to consider our mortality, so that we might live wisely. Ps. 90:12

From my 2016 Journal. I hear of causes, movements, meetings and appeals for help that I could join. But I have limited resources, time, dollars, and energy. Each money appeal, request or event that crosses my path has to be filtered through these considerations. And I must check in with the Commander-in-Chief before I move on it—even if it’s a good and worthy cause.

A friend recently sent out an appeal on Facebook to gather items to be donated to a local charity. The words I heard in my head were “I should do that in order to fulfill God’s heart for serving the poor and needy.” It makes no logical sense to admit I feel guilty for not doing it, so I know it’s trigger-based.

Guilt and shame and “enough” are nailed to the cross, so what is in my heart that wants to hold onto this “should”?

VISUAL: Shoulds are a heavy burden to carry—like an unwieldy, large sack of potatoes. If I don’t carry it, I think, who will? Since the potatoes are my responsibility, I can’t hand them over to Jesus. For example, He can’t diet or exercise for me or walk a casserole dish over to my sick next-door neighbor. That job is mine to carry out.

“True,” Jesus says. “There are certain things you were created to carry, not Me. So here’s what you can do. Put the sack down and empty all the potatoes out onto a tarp and let’s sort them together. First, throw away the bad ones (the lies). Now sort the rest into types, colors, sizes, or any way that makes sense to you.”

So first I sort them by kind—russets, red, fingerlings, etc. Seeing different colors and sizes is easier from there.

“Today we’re going to make a stew,” He says. “We don’t need a whole sack full of potatoes. Nor do we need every kind. Only pick up what you need for right now this morning. This afternoon you’ll need a different kind.”

Whew! This feels much more manageable now.

After seeing this visual, I was able to slow my thought processes down. I cleaned house thoroughly, ran to the grocery store, got the car washed, and filled up the gas tank—all with a feeling of peace. Next I drove almost three hours through heavy traffic to attend a funeral and drove home at night. Only in the last half hour did I begin to feel tired. Thank You, Lord, for teaching me to set down my potato sack! Maybe tomorrow I’ll find time to go through my closet for gently-used clothing to donate to the homeless shelter.

potatoes-vegetables-erdfrucht-bio-162673

 

When Prayer Is Not a Good Thing

Posted on by under Prayer

From my 2016 Journal. Sometimes we pray out of our triggers; and God, for some reason, listens and answers our prayers—even when they’re not good for us or for others.

Moses begged God not to destroy the people of Israel and start over with a new nation. What if Moses hadn’t prayed and God did destroy His chosen people? Israel’s history would have been very different and forty years of desert wandering avoided.

Hezekiah begged for more years to be added to his life, and after God granted him an extra fifteen, this king turned to idolatry.

Abraham begged God to spare Lot’s life, and incest and warring nations ensued.

Hannah cried out for a son and then lived with the pain of giving Samuel up to be raised by an ungodly priest.

And yet—God is capable of turning bad into good.

And yet—we also suffer the consequences of our poor choices.

I wonder if I have ever begged God for something that was not good for me, and He relented, and I paid the consequences, but He turned it for good . . . I can’t think of anything right now, but I suspect I’ll be quite surprised when I find out the truth in heaven.

I think the lesson here is learning to ask God first what His will is, and then praying that prayer, rather than trying to twist His arm to do mine.

Have you ever noticed that the majority of our church prayer requests are for physical needs? We list all known ills from a sister-in-law’s cousin Becky who has cancer to Great-uncle Bob who just had a toenail removed. We pray and ask for healing and get all excited when someone is “miraculously” healed. But what if . . . just what if . . . God had a better plan but He relented and gave me what I asked for? Even Jesus was discerning as to whom He touched and whom He healed. And He certainly didn’t raise everyone from the dead.

For me, personally, I want to glorify God whether I’m ill or well. I can’t ask for something with great assurance unless I discern first that He desires it, lest like a child begging for candy, I do more harm than good. But if I ask for good things, I can trust my loving, heavenly Father to supply what I need.

What’s your experience?

Candy

To Pray or not to Pray

Posted on by under Prayer

From my 2016 Journal. A conversation

Karen: There are a lot of people out there who need my prayers.

Jesus: (with raised eyebrows) Oh really?

Karen: Well, isn’t that true? We’re taught, commanded, instructed to pray.

Jesus: (smiles) True. But that’s not why you pray.

Karen: It’s not?

Jesus: You pray because you love Me and I love you. It’s not a duty, a job, or a task to fulfill, a checklist to complete. People don’t need your prayers. I’m quite capable of taking care of them.

Karen: Ouch. Yes, Lord.

Jesus: I just want you to be with Me. I’ll guide your mind. Talk to Me about these people who are on your heart. I will listen, and I will consider your requests, but I know what’s best, and My will shall be done on earth as it is in heaven. I know your concerns. I know your thoughts before you even express them. But spoken words are important. “Believe in your heart and confess with your mouth.”

I have been a lifelong student on the subject of prayer and have met many who are skilled at verbalizing their prayers, but I have yet to meet anyone who believes they have mastered the discipline of an inner prayer life. Tell me what you’ve learned on your journey of intimacy with God.

Prayer

Who Am I Displeasing?

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions, God, Inner Healing, Peace

DispleasureFrom my 2015 Journal. I grew up in a boarding school where we had nightly devotions together as a group in the girls’ dorm. One particular spinster Auntie (as we called our dorm mothers) got frustrated one night with our continuing chatter and instructed us to all be silent. She began to lead us in a chorus, and I leaned over to the girl next to me and whispered, “Listen.” I wanted her to hear me sing the counter melody.

My punishment for this one-word infraction was to forgo afternoon playtime for a week in order to write out by hand 1,000 (yes, one thousand) times:  “I displease the Lord when I am not quiet in devotions.” You see—I remember the exact words all these years later! The repetition, or perhaps the injustice I felt, kept my anger alive until one day I chose to forgive her.

And then I laughed out loud when Jesus replaced those words to reflect His truth: “I displease Auntie when I am not quiet in devotions, and Jesus loves me even when I’m not quiet in devotions.”

But there’s more to the story. God graciously allowed me as a grownup to reconnect with this Auntie, and I was able to hear her life story and listen to her heart. And, no, I did not recount this incident to her since I felt no malice toward her anymore. That is the power of forgiveness.

 

Happy face

Enough Is Enough

Posted on by under Emotions, God, Inner Healing, Peace

His loyal love towers over His faithful followers. (Ps. 103:11b NET)

From my 2016 Journal. There’s a part of me that is unable (unwilling?) to receive/believe God’s love for me. Why? What in me cannot accept it?

EnoughThe word enough comes to mind—I’m always trying to earn God’s love. Where is this insidious lie buried in my heart? Somewhere in childhood perhaps. It was the culture of my boarding school to always strive for perfection. Getting anything less than 100 was unacceptable. But I discover it’s not from the teacher; it’s coming from within. Why? What do I believe about myself if I fall short? That I didn’t try enough, study enough, work hard enough? When I make “less than” I feel . . .

Memory:  A fourth-grade spelling test when I drew a blank over the word earnest. I knew it, I had studied it, but for some reason, my brain shut down when the teacher called out the word. I feel a little angst that the teacher will think less of me when she sees my paper. But so what? Because I will think less of me?

Jesus says, “Look into My eyes.” I imagine I see disappointment, judgment, and condemnation. He kneels beside my desk and asks, “Karen, why are you scared?”

“I want to be at the top.”

“Why?”

“The view at the top is more spectacular than the climb up the mountain.”

“It’s exhilarating to be at the top,” He affirms, “but the effort to get there can be fun too. You’re not going to fall. You’re roped in, anchored to Me. And to the mountain.”

“But what if I make a mistake?” I counter. “What if my pitons don’t hold? What if . . . ?”

And suddenly my visual flips to its side. The mountain is an illusion. I’m not climbing UP; I’m moving FORWARD on a flat plane. There are bumps and small hills on the path for sure, but it’s safe. And Jesus walks beside me.

“Do You really love me?” I query.

“I really do.”

“Then why do I doubt?”

“Why indeed?” Nothing can separate me from His love . . . neither height, nor depth . . .

“Enough” is Satan’s word: you haven’t prayed enough, you don’t love enough, you don’t serve enough, you are not enough.

Jesus is enough. “Enough” was nailed to the cross. “Enough” has been filled and fulfilled.

The question is not, “Have I done enough?” The question is, “Am I connected to Jesus?” While in His presence, “enough” is satisfied.

There’s a song we used to sing: “I want my Lord to be satisfied with me.” I understand the sentiment, but I think the wording is faulty. I don’t have to do anything to satisfy Him. I can simply open all the doors to my heart, release all the guilt and shame and hiding, and let Him in. But I can never do enough to satisfy Him. A child doesn’t need to satisfy a parent. A child simply trusts and obeys.

Jesus paid the price, and the Father is satisfied with Jesus. And that is enough.