Showing posts with label living the place where heaven invades earth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label living the place where heaven invades earth. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 7, 2015
Faith that Changes Things
Make a difference today.
You don't have to change the whole world, just do something that gives the world an option.
Write a letter to a leader about something that concerns you instead of just griping about it. And write it with respect.
Send a card or a note to someone who is hurting, discouraged, or fighting a battle.
Donate clothes, books, toys, household items to a great cause.
Take flowers to an assisted living facility.
Buy some McDonalds burgers and hand them out to the homeless.
Hand out bottled water to the homeless.
Drop off a case of water or Gatorade at the FD.
Paint the fingernails of the ladies at a nursing home or assisted care facility.
Read books to a child in a hospital.
James 2
14 What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if someone claims to have faith but has no deeds? Can such faith save them? 15 Suppose a brother or a sister is without clothes and daily food. 16 If one of you says to them, “Go in peace; keep warm and well fed,” but does nothing about their physical needs, what good is it? 17 In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead.
18 But someone will say, “You have faith; I have deeds.”
Show me your faith without deeds, and I will show you my faith by my deeds. 19 You believe that there is one God. Good! Even the demons believe that—and shudder.
20 You foolish person, do you want evidence that faith without deeds is useless[d]? 21 Was not our father Abraham considered righteous for what he did when he offered his son Isaac on the altar? 22 You see that his faith and his actions were working together, and his faith was made complete by what he did.
HOW ARE YOU GOING TO LIVE YOUR FAITH TODAY?
(Share your ideas. The more ideas, the more change we can create!)
Monday, February 2, 2015
The Bad, The Good, and The Growing
Yesterday I posted about the lady at our church who talked to the kids about Groundhog's Day, and I told you what I thought was wrong with it. I also want to tell you what was right with it.
As I mentioned briefly in my second post, she called and apologized for offending me, and she explained her intentions in bringing up the topic with the kids. What was right with that? Several things.
First, she followed biblical principles in calling me to talk to me about the issue. I don't know how she even know about the blog post because we aren't Facebook friends and she isn't a typical blog reader. I don't know if she even knew who I was before this morning, which speaks even more to her character, in my opinion. She could have blown me off. She really had nothing to lose if she did. I certainly am not leaving my church because someone talked about Groundhog's Day. Honestly, she had nothing to lose if she didn't say a thing. She could have taken the coward's way out, but she didn't. She took the road of character instead. She called this person she didn't know to apologize for something she never thought would mean anything. Gives me a good idea of why she is one of the leaders. Leaders are more interested in creating unity than defending their rights. She could have told me all the reasons she had every right to say what she did. Instead, she told me how sorry she was I was offended. That is godly character.
Whichever leader read the blog could have blown me off and not told her about. I mean really. How many people read this blog anyway, and how significant am I in the big scheme of things? She's a leader in the church, and I'm...not. Could have been really easy to ignore the blog, say nothing, and let it go away, but someone didn't. Someone felt it was important to value this lady, who deserved the right to give her side, and me. I think this person also values the church. After all the church isn't a building, it's the people in it. Seems to me someone values unity among the body enough to address the issues with honor and dignity so family stays family.
Third, the lady explained to me why she brought up Groundhog's Day. She was trying to make conversation. The kids are in public school, and the topic would come up during the week (today as it turns out), and it was something to talk about. Now, the hardcore religious side of me wants to rise up and ask, "Really? And that is the best you had?" But let me give you reality of this. At least she tried. I sat in my chair listening to someone else's conversations and didn't engage anyone. She looked at this population of people that goes unnoticed and unaddressed by adults until they do something wrong and get in trouble, and she was earnestly interested. SHE TRIED. It's easy for me to find fault with her effort from my place in the cheap seats, but let me tell you something. If you asked God today which one of us looked more like Jesus, I have a feeling He'd say it was the one who went after the sheep, and that wasn't me.
I still have issues with the church's acceptance of pagan and humanistic holidays, philosophies, and beliefs, but I also have issue with someone who sits on her butt on a padded chair in "the safe zone" and finds fault with someone's efforts to love people and risks getting it wrong. Some days I make myself sick.
And all of this has left me challenged.
I could have written that first blog better. It came out sounding like an attack on her, and that really isn't what I intended. It was badly done, but I'm leaving it up there so people can see I really don't have it all together and am in desperate need of grace and forgiveness all the time, and if God can use this muddy mess, He can use anyone.
I'm also challenged to listen carefully to the Spirit concerning anything I say that gives glory or power to anyone or anything besides God. I prayed that prayer in earnest, not just because I like to sound profound and eloquent. No point praying if I am not going to listen to Him answer.
Also, the Bible says to be prepared in season and out. I don't remember the rest of the verse, but right now, that seems pertinent enough. At church this morning I wasn't prepared to engage the kids. I've never been prepared to engage the kids. This week I need to be in prayer concerning things to talk with them about. But even beyond them, what about the people in line at the grocery store? Standing in the elevator? On the other side of the gas pump? In a world where people are so detached and feel so isolated, could I really make a difference by simply starting a conversation, asking about their day, be interested in who they are? Seems too simple. Okay, it already feels awkward, but Jesus talked to a tax collector in a tree...and the town trash at the well...and...It worked for Him. This conversation starting simply because He was there and the other person was there and after all, they were divine appointments, weren't they? Maybe some of these people I watch pass by in silence are souls wanting to be found? Maybe they don't know how to reach God, so God wants to reach them through me. I guess I'll open up a conversation and see.
Finally, in the midst of writing this, I've called the lady back (nope, still not giving her name) and talked some more. It was a good talk, and we're fine. Actually, it was good because I understand her heart, and maybe she understands mine, and while we came at this issue from two different perspectives and with different passions, we agree that both are important. What Satan meant for destruction God is using for growth in both of us, and you know what happens when children of God talk through their differences (real or perceived) and grow? He gets glorified. And that is always good stuff.
As I mentioned briefly in my second post, she called and apologized for offending me, and she explained her intentions in bringing up the topic with the kids. What was right with that? Several things.
First, she followed biblical principles in calling me to talk to me about the issue. I don't know how she even know about the blog post because we aren't Facebook friends and she isn't a typical blog reader. I don't know if she even knew who I was before this morning, which speaks even more to her character, in my opinion. She could have blown me off. She really had nothing to lose if she did. I certainly am not leaving my church because someone talked about Groundhog's Day. Honestly, she had nothing to lose if she didn't say a thing. She could have taken the coward's way out, but she didn't. She took the road of character instead. She called this person she didn't know to apologize for something she never thought would mean anything. Gives me a good idea of why she is one of the leaders. Leaders are more interested in creating unity than defending their rights. She could have told me all the reasons she had every right to say what she did. Instead, she told me how sorry she was I was offended. That is godly character.
Whichever leader read the blog could have blown me off and not told her about. I mean really. How many people read this blog anyway, and how significant am I in the big scheme of things? She's a leader in the church, and I'm...not. Could have been really easy to ignore the blog, say nothing, and let it go away, but someone didn't. Someone felt it was important to value this lady, who deserved the right to give her side, and me. I think this person also values the church. After all the church isn't a building, it's the people in it. Seems to me someone values unity among the body enough to address the issues with honor and dignity so family stays family.
Third, the lady explained to me why she brought up Groundhog's Day. She was trying to make conversation. The kids are in public school, and the topic would come up during the week (today as it turns out), and it was something to talk about. Now, the hardcore religious side of me wants to rise up and ask, "Really? And that is the best you had?" But let me give you reality of this. At least she tried. I sat in my chair listening to someone else's conversations and didn't engage anyone. She looked at this population of people that goes unnoticed and unaddressed by adults until they do something wrong and get in trouble, and she was earnestly interested. SHE TRIED. It's easy for me to find fault with her effort from my place in the cheap seats, but let me tell you something. If you asked God today which one of us looked more like Jesus, I have a feeling He'd say it was the one who went after the sheep, and that wasn't me.
I still have issues with the church's acceptance of pagan and humanistic holidays, philosophies, and beliefs, but I also have issue with someone who sits on her butt on a padded chair in "the safe zone" and finds fault with someone's efforts to love people and risks getting it wrong. Some days I make myself sick.
And all of this has left me challenged.
I could have written that first blog better. It came out sounding like an attack on her, and that really isn't what I intended. It was badly done, but I'm leaving it up there so people can see I really don't have it all together and am in desperate need of grace and forgiveness all the time, and if God can use this muddy mess, He can use anyone.
I'm also challenged to listen carefully to the Spirit concerning anything I say that gives glory or power to anyone or anything besides God. I prayed that prayer in earnest, not just because I like to sound profound and eloquent. No point praying if I am not going to listen to Him answer.
Also, the Bible says to be prepared in season and out. I don't remember the rest of the verse, but right now, that seems pertinent enough. At church this morning I wasn't prepared to engage the kids. I've never been prepared to engage the kids. This week I need to be in prayer concerning things to talk with them about. But even beyond them, what about the people in line at the grocery store? Standing in the elevator? On the other side of the gas pump? In a world where people are so detached and feel so isolated, could I really make a difference by simply starting a conversation, asking about their day, be interested in who they are? Seems too simple. Okay, it already feels awkward, but Jesus talked to a tax collector in a tree...and the town trash at the well...and...It worked for Him. This conversation starting simply because He was there and the other person was there and after all, they were divine appointments, weren't they? Maybe some of these people I watch pass by in silence are souls wanting to be found? Maybe they don't know how to reach God, so God wants to reach them through me. I guess I'll open up a conversation and see.
Finally, in the midst of writing this, I've called the lady back (nope, still not giving her name) and talked some more. It was a good talk, and we're fine. Actually, it was good because I understand her heart, and maybe she understands mine, and while we came at this issue from two different perspectives and with different passions, we agree that both are important. What Satan meant for destruction God is using for growth in both of us, and you know what happens when children of God talk through their differences (real or perceived) and grow? He gets glorified. And that is always good stuff.
Sunday, September 21, 2014
Death...and Life...on the Cross
Dear Fallon,
I've been thinking about the cross. It isn't what I was taught it was.
I was taught the cross is the burdens I carry in life. My cross is what I give up to be "good" or the hard parts of living a Christian life. It's the hard stuff of being me. It's sort of the Christian's pity party.
Except that's not true.
The cross wasn't Jesus burden. The cross is where Jesus died.
Jesus' burden was humanity and our sins. Those are things He died for, not on.
The cross is where Jesus took those burdens and in essence said, "As a human being, I can't fix this. I can carry this burden, but I can't fix it," and He allowed God Almighty to put Him on a cross where the flesh and all it couldn't do died, so that in the spiritual those things no longer had power, and what the flesh could not fix, the Spirit made perfect.
That is the cross.
The cross is where we take all the things we cannot possibly do in the flesh and die to our fantasy that these human bodies have any ability to make a difference. The cross is where our arrogance of ability is put to death, and we take up the reality that the only power is the one God Almighty wields. And it is there, waiting for us, on the cross, in the sacrifice of Christ.
All things that are humanly impossible are made possible in Him because He is the door--do we get it, Fallon?!--HE IS THE DOOR! He is the place where the limitations of the flesh die and the possibilities of all of heaven explode into this earth.
How can we ever live the crazy amazing life Christ did? Only on the cross.
Because the cross is where the logic and reason of the world has to die. There is nothing reasonable about the cross, but there is something miraculous. The cross is where this world has to bow to the rule of another kingdom.
When we are told to take up our cross daily and follow Christ, it doesn't mean lug around the burdens that we can't possibly fix. It means stand in the place where the world's logic dies and the limitations of this world cease and take up the reality that there is power to change everything, that we are the place where that power resides.
To take up my cross is to say, "I'm alive in Christ. I choose to live Him and be the place a radical God can invade this earth with heavenly power, and I refuse to make excuses and live in the reasonable limitations of my flesh."
To take up my cross means I lay down all the reasons why I can't do what I'm called to do or why that miraculous thing can't happen or why that person's heart will never change.
You know what sin is? Sin is choosing anything besides God. It means that I've believed there are better ways to live and meet my needs than God. It means I chose to live a lie.
The cross is where those sins were forgiven. The cross is where God says, "Let's try this again. You have the option of choosing me."
It takes crazy deep courage to choose a crazy wild God.
As Joshua said, "Choose you this day whom you will serve. As for me and my house, we choose God."
Choosing to trust the crazy wild God...
Not even totally sure what that means or what that looks like, but He is what I choose
because I cannot imagine choosing anything else...
Me
I've been thinking about the cross. It isn't what I was taught it was.
I was taught the cross is the burdens I carry in life. My cross is what I give up to be "good" or the hard parts of living a Christian life. It's the hard stuff of being me. It's sort of the Christian's pity party.
Except that's not true.
The cross wasn't Jesus burden. The cross is where Jesus died.
Jesus' burden was humanity and our sins. Those are things He died for, not on.
The cross is where Jesus took those burdens and in essence said, "As a human being, I can't fix this. I can carry this burden, but I can't fix it," and He allowed God Almighty to put Him on a cross where the flesh and all it couldn't do died, so that in the spiritual those things no longer had power, and what the flesh could not fix, the Spirit made perfect.
That is the cross.
The cross is where we take all the things we cannot possibly do in the flesh and die to our fantasy that these human bodies have any ability to make a difference. The cross is where our arrogance of ability is put to death, and we take up the reality that the only power is the one God Almighty wields. And it is there, waiting for us, on the cross, in the sacrifice of Christ.
All things that are humanly impossible are made possible in Him because He is the door--do we get it, Fallon?!--HE IS THE DOOR! He is the place where the limitations of the flesh die and the possibilities of all of heaven explode into this earth.
How can we ever live the crazy amazing life Christ did? Only on the cross.
Because the cross is where the logic and reason of the world has to die. There is nothing reasonable about the cross, but there is something miraculous. The cross is where this world has to bow to the rule of another kingdom.
When we are told to take up our cross daily and follow Christ, it doesn't mean lug around the burdens that we can't possibly fix. It means stand in the place where the world's logic dies and the limitations of this world cease and take up the reality that there is power to change everything, that we are the place where that power resides.
To take up my cross is to say, "I'm alive in Christ. I choose to live Him and be the place a radical God can invade this earth with heavenly power, and I refuse to make excuses and live in the reasonable limitations of my flesh."
To take up my cross means I lay down all the reasons why I can't do what I'm called to do or why that miraculous thing can't happen or why that person's heart will never change.
You know what sin is? Sin is choosing anything besides God. It means that I've believed there are better ways to live and meet my needs than God. It means I chose to live a lie.
The cross is where those sins were forgiven. The cross is where God says, "Let's try this again. You have the option of choosing me."
It takes crazy deep courage to choose a crazy wild God.
As Joshua said, "Choose you this day whom you will serve. As for me and my house, we choose God."
Choosing to trust the crazy wild God...
Not even totally sure what that means or what that looks like, but He is what I choose
because I cannot imagine choosing anything else...
Me
Thursday, September 12, 2013
Because No One is Small or Insignificant
Sunday night I created some concern when I posted about my
worship time in church that day. I had really hoped the focus would be on the
big vision God was giving me and the fact that although I am nothing special as
a person and by myself I can’t make a difference, but with HIM I can accomplish
great things. It really is all about Him, and honestly, I’m humbled at the
vision and scope He has given me. That was truly what I meant when I used the
words “small” and “insignificant”. However, that was not how they were
interpreted, and some beautiful hearts expressed concern and support.
First of all, I am not "small" or "insignificant". I don't EVER think that way about myself. I think I was put on this earth to have powerful impact. I believe I am a gifted speaker and writer. I believe I am a force to be reckoned with. I believe I do have my Daddy's full attention, and, yes, I do believe I am the favorite.
I am fully convinced if I need my Daddy, He will send any resource He has in heaven to my aide, and if need be, as it once was, if I need Him to, He will get off His throne and come to earth Himself to do what needs to be done to save me from whatever has the audacity to attack me. Mostly, He saves me from myself.
I’ve considered how to respond and prayed about it because…well,
you’ll see…I hope. I even considered saying nothing, but last week the Lord
kept echoing in my mind one sentence people have said to me untold number of
times over my life: “Jerri, I’m not you.” They say it with sadness, and it is
obvious they think there is something about me that makes me somehow more than
them. More gifted. More outgoing. More determined. More spiritual. More…I don’t
know. I’m not more than anyone. That is what makes me small and insignificant. I’m
no bigger or more significant than anyone else. I’m just Jerri, and, yes, there
are some fantastically cool things that comes with that, red hair included, but
there are some things that are hard and keep me on my knees praying because
they are not something I want up where everyone can see them. They are ugly,
and I know they are ugly, and I promise you have witnesses who will testify
they are ugly.
But even with as ordinary and regular as I am, God can take
all that stuff—even the ugly—and do powerful, powerful things I could never do
on my own. If He can do that in MY life with my background and my ugly, He can
do it with anyone’s life.
So, let me tell you about the real me. It may get ugly. Are you
ready? Okay.
First of all, I am not "small" or "insignificant". I don't EVER think that way about myself. I think I was put on this earth to have powerful impact. I believe I am a gifted speaker and writer. I believe I am a force to be reckoned with. I believe I do have my Daddy's full attention, and, yes, I do believe I am the favorite.
I am fully convinced if I need my Daddy, He will send any resource He has in heaven to my aide, and if need be, as it once was, if I need Him to, He will get off His throne and come to earth Himself to do what needs to be done to save me from whatever has the audacity to attack me. Mostly, He saves me from myself.
I truly believe anything that comes before me I am capable
to handle. I believe any giant and any mountain that steps in my way makes a
mistake because it will come down.
I believe I often come across as harsh and overly blunt, and
because of that, I sometimes say nothing when I should say something, even if I
say it with a bit more edge than I intend. In my opinion, these are my two
greatest weaknesses, and I would appreciate prayers for these things if my
Daddy brings me to your mind.
One of my great strengths is my refusal to back down from a
fight when I’m fighting for someone or when I know I’m right. One of my great
challenges is learning when it really doesn’t matter if I’m right or not. I get
to practice this every.single.day.
Because I know I’m a strong presence, I sometimes play “small”
in order to not overwhelm people or to keep from being a target. This is one of
my greatest faults. I truly believe I can be a strong presence and be a place
of refuge in that strength without being less than who God expects me to be. I’m
still learning this. I hope I get it figured out before I die.
It hurts me when people don’t like me or people don’t
understand me. In fact, those wounds cut horrifically deep, and I expend absurd
amounts of time and energy figuring out how to mend the relationship. The Lord
is teaching me to know when that matters because not all relationships are
meant to be mended. It is a hard truth, and I have to keep that on the altar
before Him all the time.
Oddly, though, I have no problem standing against another
strong person when I feel that person is threatening, and if they don’t like
it, I don’t care. Still learning proportional response. Sometimes a .45 is
enough to fix the situation, and I bring a tank, and sometimes the collateral
damage is… Remember the ugly I talked about? Well, this is way on up there on
the ugly list.
I stink at being vulnerable, and God has made it clear this
is one of my greatest strengths. However, it has been stolen through people’s
painful treatment, accusations, and abandoning me throughout my life. It is
something He wants restored. Can I tell you how much I am not loving the idea
of THAT battle? But I am also excited. Walls can be so hard to maintain, and it
is not good for me (man) to be alone. It’s a worthwhile battle. Love the idea
of when it is over, just not the walking through.
If God brings you to mind, please feel free to pray for any
(or all) of the above.
I am far more the warrior than the woman of grace, and I
realize that rocks some people's world's and upsets their happy apple carts and
rips their comfort zones to shreds. I have been called "intimidating"
by more than one person, and while I can assure you I never desire to
intimidate, I also have no intention of being less than who God created me to
be.
I can also tell you if you are fighting to be who God
created you to be, I'll be your best cheerleader. I will be the warrior who
stands with you to encourage you and defend you because when we start standing
up in the Truth of who we are, Satan will start throwing bombs about who we
used to be. I’ll be there to remind you of the Truth and to tell the liar to go
to hell where he belongs. I just may not say it gracefully. J
I'm not perfect. I don't claim to be, and I'm more aware of
my faults than most people think. I thank God for grace, and I pray every day
to be a person who extends it more than I expect to get it. I make mistakes. I
hurt people's feelings, and sometimes I can't figure out how to say I'm sorry
without sounding not-sorry, and I hate that. But honestly, sometimes I don't
say I'm sorry because I really think I am right and have nothing to be sorry
about.
That is kind of the way I see me.
Now, let me tell you how I see YOU.
First of all, you are not "small" or
"insignificant". Don't EVER think that way about yourself. I know you
were put on this earth to have powerful impact. You have gifts and talents no
one else has. He has a big plan, and you are part of it. You are a force to be
reckoned with. You have your Daddy's full attention, and, yes, I do believe you
are the favorite.
I am fully convinced if you need your Daddy, He will send
any resource He has in heaven to your aide, and if you need Him to, He will get
off His throne and come to earth Himself to do what needs to be done to save you
from whatever has the audacity to attack you. He will even save you from
yourself.
I know you are a gift and a treasure, and I also know I am
no better—no bigger, no more significant, no more talented, no more important—than
anyone else, not even you.
So when I say I am small and insignificant, I don’t mean I
think I’m worthless and unimportant. I’m simply saying I’m a human being like
everyone else. Period. I’m also HIS, and in Him, I’m everything I need to be for
Him to be great through me.
I believe that is true of everyone. So anyone who has ever
said or thought, "I'm not like (Jerri, Ann Voskamp, The Piano Guys, Tedd
Dekker, insert the person Satan uses against you HERE)," no, you're not.
But you aren't supposed to be. You're just supposed to be like Jesus...in the
beautiful flavor He built into you.
And THAT is always significant.
Sunday, September 1, 2013
When God Throws Your Own Words in Your Face
It was medical responders class when I said it. We had finished CPR and learning about heart attacks and the reality that the heart of the survivor may the only one we could really help.
And the nightmares were relentless.
Him unconscious in a car on the side of the road. My pulling him out of the car into my lap, trying everything I knew to bring him back. His dying there anyway. It played through my dreams at night and my thoughts during the day, and there was no conscious place it wasn't.
We were driving over to Burger King to grab lunch when he asked it. How he had died, and I told him, mechanical sounding and tired.
"So why did you take this class?"
Because I found medical response fascinating. I loved learning it all. I love the puzzle, the challenge, the whole thing. The cerebral answer.
"Doesn't it make you think about him and what happened?" All the time.
"Then why do that to yourself?" Because nothing will bring him back, but maybe--MAYBE--I can keep someone else from going through what we've been through, and if I can prevent this pain for even one person, it's worth it.
If I can make the difference for even one person...it's all worth it.
Two years later I sit in my garden tub. Tears roll down my cheeks. The pain is deep, and no matter where I look, it is there.
I think about recent blogs and posts and verbal comments and conversations and discussions, and they tumble out of my head and replay in front of me. I talk too much. I always think I'm right. I'm just flat wrong. Who am I to say that? I said it the wrong way, to the wrong person, in the wrong tone. I should have said something else, written more, said more. I should be more humble and willing to learn. I should be more courageous and willing to teach. I should sit down and be quiet. I should rise up and step into my destiny.
I think I should stay in bed and avoid people altogether.
I think about the conversation two years ago, in the car as he asked why I chose to take the class. He had no way of knowing at that moment, I was trying to figure out how to fail the class because really, I just wanted out. I wanted out of the dreams, out of the torment, and out of the responsibility of it all.
The dreams were tormenting, and the always present reality that there would be someone I couldn't save and what then? What happens when you do your very best and it still isn't good enough, and no, I'm not God, didn't want to be, but this frail human had reached the limit and maybe the reality of what I couldn't do or be was the point where I shook my head and said, "Enough is enough." Really, is peace such a horrendous thing to want?
All I wanted was peace.
I sit in my garden tub and ask the same question: Is peace such a horrendous thing to want?
And again the mental and emotional torment is unending, and I am all too aware that no matter how good I am, I am never good enough. The reality I can't help everyone slams me like a wrecking ball. It is the barrage of voices telling me how I am not enough--not good enough, not smart enough, not "this style" enough, not...enough...at all. And this frail human being with a heart exhausted from three years of trying to rebuild a life and trying to understand who I am to be and what God wants to do has reached her limit, and maybe the reality of what I'm not or the personality and style I don't have leaves me shaking my head and saying, "Enough is enough."
Peace isn't a horrendous thing to want, and I'm wondering if the way to peace is to walk out of the war because, God in Heaven, I'm tired, and if I step off the battlefield, will anyone notice anyway?
Then it happens. His voice whispers, and my body cringes.
"If I can make the difference for one person, it's worth it."
My words. In His mouth. Not what I want to hear.
"How much is one person worth?" His voice is close to my ear, and I really don't like this. "If there was one person on a battlefield, and you knew you could reach them, but you also knew it meant every member of the enemy's army would turn their sights on you, would you leave them there, or would you go get them?"
He knows. And I am torn between being honored and being angry. "I'd go."
I feel His smile against my ear. "Yes. You would. Jerri, there are people down, and you are the only one who can get them, and, yes, the assault will be hard and unrelenting, and you may need a breather--"
"Not as long as there is one more I can get."
His smile broadens. He knows.
And I have no idea how I will stay on this battlefield, but I will, just like I passed that class, just like I didn't flinch when my patient was young man with symptoms of a heart attack...and the same heart problem that killed my husband...because sometimes they don't die in your lap. Sometimes they get what they need and live long, beautiful lives.
Sometimes it stinks to be the one who will run into the burning building, but I think it would be worse to be tormented by the voices of the ones I could have reached but didn't. So I'm still here.
And the nightmares were relentless.
Him unconscious in a car on the side of the road. My pulling him out of the car into my lap, trying everything I knew to bring him back. His dying there anyway. It played through my dreams at night and my thoughts during the day, and there was no conscious place it wasn't.
We were driving over to Burger King to grab lunch when he asked it. How he had died, and I told him, mechanical sounding and tired.
"So why did you take this class?"
Because I found medical response fascinating. I loved learning it all. I love the puzzle, the challenge, the whole thing. The cerebral answer.
"Doesn't it make you think about him and what happened?" All the time.
"Then why do that to yourself?" Because nothing will bring him back, but maybe--MAYBE--I can keep someone else from going through what we've been through, and if I can prevent this pain for even one person, it's worth it.
If I can make the difference for even one person...it's all worth it.
Two years later I sit in my garden tub. Tears roll down my cheeks. The pain is deep, and no matter where I look, it is there.
I think about recent blogs and posts and verbal comments and conversations and discussions, and they tumble out of my head and replay in front of me. I talk too much. I always think I'm right. I'm just flat wrong. Who am I to say that? I said it the wrong way, to the wrong person, in the wrong tone. I should have said something else, written more, said more. I should be more humble and willing to learn. I should be more courageous and willing to teach. I should sit down and be quiet. I should rise up and step into my destiny.
I think I should stay in bed and avoid people altogether.
I think about the conversation two years ago, in the car as he asked why I chose to take the class. He had no way of knowing at that moment, I was trying to figure out how to fail the class because really, I just wanted out. I wanted out of the dreams, out of the torment, and out of the responsibility of it all.
The dreams were tormenting, and the always present reality that there would be someone I couldn't save and what then? What happens when you do your very best and it still isn't good enough, and no, I'm not God, didn't want to be, but this frail human had reached the limit and maybe the reality of what I couldn't do or be was the point where I shook my head and said, "Enough is enough." Really, is peace such a horrendous thing to want?
All I wanted was peace.
I sit in my garden tub and ask the same question: Is peace such a horrendous thing to want?
And again the mental and emotional torment is unending, and I am all too aware that no matter how good I am, I am never good enough. The reality I can't help everyone slams me like a wrecking ball. It is the barrage of voices telling me how I am not enough--not good enough, not smart enough, not "this style" enough, not...enough...at all. And this frail human being with a heart exhausted from three years of trying to rebuild a life and trying to understand who I am to be and what God wants to do has reached her limit, and maybe the reality of what I'm not or the personality and style I don't have leaves me shaking my head and saying, "Enough is enough."
Peace isn't a horrendous thing to want, and I'm wondering if the way to peace is to walk out of the war because, God in Heaven, I'm tired, and if I step off the battlefield, will anyone notice anyway?
Then it happens. His voice whispers, and my body cringes.
"If I can make the difference for one person, it's worth it."
My words. In His mouth. Not what I want to hear.
"How much is one person worth?" His voice is close to my ear, and I really don't like this. "If there was one person on a battlefield, and you knew you could reach them, but you also knew it meant every member of the enemy's army would turn their sights on you, would you leave them there, or would you go get them?"
He knows. And I am torn between being honored and being angry. "I'd go."
I feel His smile against my ear. "Yes. You would. Jerri, there are people down, and you are the only one who can get them, and, yes, the assault will be hard and unrelenting, and you may need a breather--"
"Not as long as there is one more I can get."
His smile broadens. He knows.
And I have no idea how I will stay on this battlefield, but I will, just like I passed that class, just like I didn't flinch when my patient was young man with symptoms of a heart attack...and the same heart problem that killed my husband...because sometimes they don't die in your lap. Sometimes they get what they need and live long, beautiful lives.
Sometimes it stinks to be the one who will run into the burning building, but I think it would be worse to be tormented by the voices of the ones I could have reached but didn't. So I'm still here.
Thursday, August 29, 2013
This is the Package, and I Don't Apologize for It
In the last few weeks, I've been told I'm "belligerent", "talk too much", am overly opinionated, and some other things my husband told me the night he explained all the reasons he no longer wanted to be married. Only he put it into one big pile and called it "intimidating".
To these remarks, I would say:
If it is belligerent to be determined to break the status quo, to be a force to be reckoned with in a world going to hell, and refuse to believe my family will be part of those hideous statistics the news tosses out, you better believe I'm belligerent.
If being absolutely sure of my God, His abilities, His expectations of holiness, His grace when I fall, and the certainty that there is a right and wrong is opinionated, I really am sure I right.
Perhaps I do talk too much, but perhaps this country and our culture is on a high speed road to hell because people with the answers didn't talk enough.
And, yes, I expect other people who go by the title "Christian" to live up to a higher standard and to live with honor, integrity, and conviction that the normal crowd does not possess. If we don't, then we ARE the normal crowd, and of all the things Jesus was accused of, being normal wasn't one of them.
If that package intimidates you, I pray to God I am the most intimidating person you ever meet in your entire life, and I make no apologies.
To these remarks, I would say:
If it is belligerent to be determined to break the status quo, to be a force to be reckoned with in a world going to hell, and refuse to believe my family will be part of those hideous statistics the news tosses out, you better believe I'm belligerent.
If being absolutely sure of my God, His abilities, His expectations of holiness, His grace when I fall, and the certainty that there is a right and wrong is opinionated, I really am sure I right.
Perhaps I do talk too much, but perhaps this country and our culture is on a high speed road to hell because people with the answers didn't talk enough.
And, yes, I expect other people who go by the title "Christian" to live up to a higher standard and to live with honor, integrity, and conviction that the normal crowd does not possess. If we don't, then we ARE the normal crowd, and of all the things Jesus was accused of, being normal wasn't one of them.
If that package intimidates you, I pray to God I am the most intimidating person you ever meet in your entire life, and I make no apologies.
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Being the Answer
Daddy,
This morning I took time to watch part of the video of Miley Cyrus at the VMAs. I couldn't watch it all because I wanted to cry. I wanted to cry because I'm so sorry she thinks that is all she is. I wanted to cry because the man with whom she sang thought it was okay to treat her like that in front of people. I wanted to cry because those people thought it was fabulous. And none of them realize how much they've lost themselves in thinking all of that was okay and "edgy", and porn of all forms devalues everyone involved because you can't call a human a piece of meat without saying all humans can be cheap piece of meat including yourself, and, Daddy, I can only imagine how that makes you want to cry.
And instead of asking how she can do that, I'm asking for wisdom to teach my daughter to never do that because she is so far more valuable than that and to teach my son to be a man of honor who would never dishonor a woman that way. I'm asking how you want me to speak into the lives of the young ladies in my life and how to invest in them so they know they are priceless and never need to act cheap to get attention, and how do I speak to the young men and live in front of them to show them how a woman of character acts and how they are to treat her?
Lord, I see the problem. Show me how to be the answer.
This morning I took time to watch part of the video of Miley Cyrus at the VMAs. I couldn't watch it all because I wanted to cry. I wanted to cry because I'm so sorry she thinks that is all she is. I wanted to cry because the man with whom she sang thought it was okay to treat her like that in front of people. I wanted to cry because those people thought it was fabulous. And none of them realize how much they've lost themselves in thinking all of that was okay and "edgy", and porn of all forms devalues everyone involved because you can't call a human a piece of meat without saying all humans can be cheap piece of meat including yourself, and, Daddy, I can only imagine how that makes you want to cry.
And instead of asking how she can do that, I'm asking for wisdom to teach my daughter to never do that because she is so far more valuable than that and to teach my son to be a man of honor who would never dishonor a woman that way. I'm asking how you want me to speak into the lives of the young ladies in my life and how to invest in them so they know they are priceless and never need to act cheap to get attention, and how do I speak to the young men and live in front of them to show them how a woman of character acts and how they are to treat her?
Lord, I see the problem. Show me how to be the answer.
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