Earlier today, I posted my response to the questions posted by Jules in her weekly Devout Devotions post. After a conversation with FirstHusband, I realized I didn’t answer the question:
“Do you think people should have to live with the consequences of their sins?”
“Yes, and that applies to me too, not just “other” people. I’ve seen so many people try the ““Jake” thing from the Blues Brothers. (Go ahead. Click on the link, you’ll see what I’m talking about. It’s 24 seconds.) Seriously. I have no patience for that. Here’s something I’ve been heard to say frequently. “Own it.” And that applies to me, too. An example that immediately comes to my mind happened just over a year ago. I had what I described as one of the most stressful days I had in years. That afternoon, picked the kids up at school and after a few hours in my company, my son said, “Mom? Can I do ANYTHING right today?” ouch. I owned it and apologized big time. I HATE “owning it.” But when I do, I learn so much. Lessons learned to guard against future sins. Hopefully.”
See? I didn’t answer the question. Taking responsibility for sin and suffering the consequences of our sin are two completely different things. My answer focused on taking responsibility for sin. And in that sense, I’m NOT changing my answer. I still believe I should take responsibility for my sin. No excuses.
But do I think people should have to live with the consequences of their sins? No. And I thank God for that. I thank God for boundless grace. The reason Christ came to earth in the first place was to prevent us from facing the consequences of our sin. Why should that be limited to the ultimate consequence?
Admittedly, there are times when facing the consequences of our sin is a means to change our direction when we otherwise wouldn’t. A glaring example would be people who break the law and rightfully suffer the consequences of their actions through our legal system. I believe that any time we face the consequence of our sin, we deserve it. But I pray and thank God for Grace. I pray and thank God for those times when restoration comes without the need to face the consequences of my sin. I welcome His discipline and guidance in any form, but much like my kids, I prefer that teaching and guidance come without pain. And just as I, as their mother, decide whether my kids should receive punishment for bad behavior or receive grace from me, I believe the decision to allow me to suffer the consequences of MY sin or receive Grace should be left to my Heavenly Father.
Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go.” Joshua 1:9 (NIV)
“. . . So we didn’t go to church. But what an amazing time together, listening to my children talk about their faith they way they never do when we are rushing through our day and our week. PinkGirl even forgot about the storm. Now, we can say: “Have I not commanded you . . . ” and she will repeat it and continue through the end of the verse.
I need that verse too. I mentioned that I am FINALLY going to get rid of my fibroids by having a hysterectomy this year. Things are progressing and the realization that I’m going to have another surgery and go under general anesthesia – which is scarier to me than any pain resulting from the surgery – is settling in. I HATE going under. See when I’m under, I have NO control over what’s happening. I have to trust OTHER PEOPLE with my LIFE. I’m continuing through the process, taking action one step at a time, but I know the night before the surgery is going to come with some Ambien.
What I need to see is GOD working through those people. Let me tell myself that again. I need to see GOD working through those other people. He’ll be there in the operating room with me because he loves me. He’ll be there in the operating room. He’ll be there in the operating room. He’ll be there . . .
What I also need to do is to stop feeling guilty about having this surgery. Thoughts creep in and out of my day – I could just live with the daily iron pills and frequent bleeding. It’s not like I have a “real” problem. I’ve had a pap smear, an internal and external sonogram, a cervical biopsy, and two different kinds of endometrial biopsies. There is no cancer, there are no polyps, nothing suspicious. Just annoying bleeding and low iron that can be treated with a daily supplement. But. I know that life will be better if my iron levels are normal. I know I will be more active if I don’t have to deal with the bleeding. I KNOW the surgery is the right thing to do. My hormone levels are completely normal – no sign of menopause. So if I wait for menopause to stop the bleeding, I’ll be waiting a very long time.
And eventually being perfect became like carrying a backpack filled with bricks every single day. And oh, how I wanted to lay my burden down. So if any of this sounds in any way familiar to you, if you have been trying to be perfect too, then perhaps today is the day to put down that backpack before you develop permanent curvature of the spirit. Trying to be perfect may be inevitable for people who are smart and ambitious and interested in the world and in its good opinion. But at some level it’s too hard, and at another, it’s too cheap and easy. Because all it really requires of you, mainly is to read the zeitgeist of wherever and whenever you happen to be and to assume the masks necessary to be the best at whatever the zeitgeist dictates or requires. Those requirements shape-shift, sure, but when you’re clever you can read them and come up with the imitation necessary.
But nothing important, or meaningful, or beautiful, or interesting, or great, ever came out of imitation. What is really hard, and really amazing, is giving up on being perfect and beginning the work of becoming yourself.
More difficult because there is no zeitgeist to read, no template to follow, no mask to wear. Terrifying, actually, because it requires you to set aside what your friends expect, what your family and your co-workers demand, what your acquaintances require, to set aside the messages this culture sends, through its advertising, its entertainment, its disdain, and its disapproval, about how you should behave.
. . . Begin with the most frightening of all things, a clean slate. And then look, every day, at the choices you are making, and when you ask yourself why you are making them, find this answer: Because they are what I want, or wish for. Because they reflect who and what I am.
I’ve L O N G since stopped trying to be perfect. That’s another post. That’s not where my mind went today when I read “Being Perfect” by Anna Quindlen.
Instead, I’ve been thinking about those last three paragraphs above. Last week I watched Facing the Giants – the entire movie, in 10 minute increments, on youtube. (I will definitely be purchasing this movie for my family.) It’s a football movie, sure, but it encompasses so much more. Since watching the movie, I’ve found myself thinking quite a bit about the overall messages presented.
I’ve written recently about being prepared for opportunity. In the Facing the Giants, a man tells a story about faith and preparation:
I’ve been preparing for opportunity. I’ve been taking action. But my goal has been . . . unfocused. I’m taking advantage of every opportunity I come across, but it’s all adding up to a big pile of puzzle pieces. I haven’t been able to figure out, as Anna Quinland said, “what I want or what I wish for.”
I think I’ve figured out what I want. The coach in Facing the Giants articulated it for me:
“I resolve to give God everything I’ve got. Then I’ll leave the results up to Him.”
So, I’ll continue to prepare for opportunity. Or rain, whichever is in my future. But my focus isn’t only on the logistics anymore. It’s on giving God everything I’ve got. And leaving the results up to Him. That means spending more time in my Bible. And in prayer. And not just in praise and thanks and petitions, but quietly as well. Abiding. (I’m not that good at “doing nothing,” so abiding is difficult for me.) And I’m going to start with a clean slate. I’m going to take my past into consideration, of course, it led me to where and who I am right now. But I’m not going to let momentum lead me into the future. Or be distracted by confessed sin and the past. Rather, in His promise of no condemnation, looking both forward to the future and, more importantly, engaging – really ENGAGING in the present, I’m going to focus on “giving Him the best I’ve got.” (oh, you just THOUGHT I approached life with intention BEFORE. Just wait. I’m going to be . . . tenacious.)
And I feel like I need to clarify. I’ve never been comfortable with the idea of “finding” my “one” purpose or figuring out God’s “perfect” plan for my life. If one person misses God’s “perfect will” for their lives, it would impact too many other people and cause them to miss out on God’s perfect will for THEIR life. Just marrying the “wrong” person means their spouse didn’t marry the right person and so on and so on. I’ve written about it before in a post entitled “learning in flux” but basically here’s what I believe (in a tiny little nutshell):
If I am a God fearing, faith filled, honorable woman who makes choices based on Biblical wisdom, then within the moral will of God, whatever I decide to do, will be equally pleasing to God. And whatever choices I make, I know “that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, and who have been called according to His purpose.” HIS purpose. It’s not about me. It’s about me giving Him my very best. Preparing for rain. And leaving the results up to Him.
This last clip is the one that compelled me to watch the entire movie. This is the clip that inspires me. And while many viewers may be inspired and encouraged by Brock’s determination to make it to the 50 yard line, I am inspired by the coach and his determination to show Brock how much more he could accomplish if he gave God his best effort.
Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their work: If one falls down, his friend can help him up. But pity the man who falls and has no one to help him up! Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken. Ecclesiastes 4:9-10, 12
In November of last year, I wrote a devotional on this verse and what it meant to me. Over the last year, as I supported my friend who is battling stage IV breast cancer, this verse has come to mean so much more. Here’s an excerpt from the November devotional over at Pragmatic Communion, entitled, “i am not alone.”
“I’m the book lady. Every year, my church has a HUGE rummage sale. Two full weeks, weekends included, are spent unloading storage units, picking up and accepting donations, sorting, pricing and basically setting up an entire gymnasium for the annual “Whale of a Sale” held the first weekend of October.
I’m the book lady.
I take two weeks off from clients and work the Whale, every day. In that two week span, I literally touch thousands of books. They are categorized by topic and fiction is alphabetized by author’s last name. They sit on three rows of 6 or 7 folding tables (the big ones), in boxes, spine up, facing the shopper. Each box has a sign sticking up from it with my handwriting on it, indicating the contents of the box: Cookbooks, Physical Health, Emotional Health, Parenting, Travel, Military History, American History, World History, Gardening, etc. In each box, you can see the name of nearly every book without having to touch a single one. If you are looking for a particular book, just ask me. I”ll tell you if we have it and, if so, exactly where it is. The comments from people who see it range from, “Wow. This is amazing.” to “Who did all this?” (in a “that person is insane” tone of voice.) In the first few years, I did much of it myself, but now there are actually a handful of people who “get” me and can help sort without messing up the system.
The added benefit is that I get first pickings. At a $1.00 per hardback and $.50 for paperbacks and children’s books, I bring home a bookcase worth every year. My I.O.U grows ominously for two weeks as I sneak boxes of books into my house. Some women buy clothes, secretly hang them in the closet and when their husband comments the first time the clothing is worn, the women say, “This? I’ve had this for years.” Not me. I bring home books, quickly pull off the price tag and shelve them. I don’t say a word. I read so many books at one time, I never get asked, “Is that a new book?” My husband can’t keep up. This year was more difficult. I ran out of shelving space and had to reorganize the playroom. A six foot shelf that used to house toys, games and puzzles now houses fitness, diet and health books. (The shelf is right next to the treadmill after all.) . . . “
Click HERE to continue reading and to see photos of the freakishness.
We don’t have snow days. We have hurricane days. Well, in this case, tropical storm days. The kids started school last week on Wednesday and I started catching up! Making some serious progress. I was in the zone! Then. School is canceled. So far, Tuesday and Wednesday of this week. The kids are VERY happy: Three days of school, a weekend, one day of school, two days off for a tropical storm, two days of school (if all goes well) and then another weekend.
Am I being punked?
So. What do I do when I have to cancel everything because a tropical storm is completely interfering with my “zone?” And my client schedule? And my walking?
Well, I certainly can’t change my circumstance, so I have to change my expectations. I decided to catch up on my blog reading while we still have electricity.
“I see myself as that old violin. I’ve been battered and I’m scarred . . . Hopefully it makes me look at the battered person on the bus more kindly or the woman on welfare differently.“
Amy makes a difference in other people’s lives in a way I sincerely admire:
Throughout her writing, you can see examples of her selflessness and empathy, while at the same time she is very open about her weaknesses and struggles.
It sent me on a flash to the past and inspired some writing of my own:
When I was in high school, I worked at McDonalds. I started on “fries and shakes” (back when they actually MADE the shakes – with ice cream and syrup and a real shake machine). Over the years I worked every job, from birthday party hostess to counter to drive thru to grill . . . even manager trainee.
During my senior year of high school, I was assigned to work drive thru with another girl from 4:00 p.m. to 8:00 p.m., Monday through Friday. One of us worked the window and the other “filled the orders.” Back then, McDonalds only had ONE drive thru window. Back then, working the window meant taking the orders at the speaker AND taking the money AND handing the orders to the customer. So, one of us stood in the same place for 4 hours every day and the other ran around like crazy, filling the orders. When I worked the window, I would take the order from the customer at the speaker, take the money from the customer at the window, turn around, grab the already filled bag and drinks, hand them out the window and repeat. All the while my friend and co-worker bobbed and weaved through the employees working the counter to grab food and fill the next bag. Some shifts I worked the window and she filled orders, some shifts she worked the window and I filled orders.
WE. WERE. FAST. Our goal was the “30 second drive thru” McDonalds constantly pushed. If the manager kept the food coming from the grill and there was an assigned “fry” person, we were very, very often able to meet that 30 second mark.
It got boring . . .
So, we looked for ways to make things more interesting. First we tried pranks and jokes. Like writing “HELP! LET ME OUT! on an empty bag and placing it where the filled order should go, that kind of thing. That got boring. What to do. What to do . . .
Reading Lisa’s post immediately brought this to my mind.
“I guess what I really believe is that neighborhoods get reissued. You know, the community.” . . .
. . . “You know what ‘community’ is,” Doops said, his voice rising with impatience. “It’s a bunch of folks getting along for some reason. Something holds them together. Generally something bad. Like me and you and Kingston. Hell, if we had met at the circus we probably wouldn’t even have liked one another. But this damned army, this idiot war, holds us together. Being miserable seems to hold folks together. But when they’re easy and everything is going right, they drift apart. Everybody goes home for a funeral and that’s all.”
Kingston dropped his head, the look on his face that of a little boy caught in mischief. Doop’s last words made him think of home, of his mother and grandfather. He felt a sadness but now he did not want Doops to stop, nodded his head for him to go on.
“And that’s all I’m talking about,” Doops continued. “Nobody needs nobody when they’re happy. But it just happens. We don’t make it. We don’t make community any more than we make souls. It’s created.”
“And you think we were around somewhere else? Some other time?” Kingston asked, looking at Doops and Model T as one, in a way he had never looked at them before. Neither of them appeared to notice.
“I said the community was around,” Doops said. “Maybe, as you put it, there a neighborhood quiver. And the Great Whoever reaches back and shoots off a dose of community from time to time when one is needed somewhere. When it fits His gameplan. You know, maybe there’s only room in the world for just so many communities. Not souls. Communities. Like, the Lord not only created planets. He created communities. A solar system and a community system. And they go on spinning. All in place. All where they’re supposed to be and when. Each one pushing the other away and holding it close at the same time. And they go on spinning. Different times maybe, but they go on.”
“What’s the difference between a community and a country?” Kingston asked.
“Size,” Doops said. He answered quickly, as if he’d been waiting for the question, wanting it to be asked. “And kings. A community doesn’t have a king, a ruler. Everybody is equal. Now, it might start out as a community. But then somebody wants to improve on it, make it better because it gets bigger. And when it starts choosing captains, whammo! No more community. And that’s when it gets put back in the quiver. Waiting to get reissued.
“Or maybe the difference between a community and a country is that a community has a soul and a country doesn’t. Because God created the community and man created the country. Some king sees all these communities around and says, ‘Hoboy! Let’s put ‘em all together and rule over ‘em.’ And then he promptly f@#%’s it up.”
No one spoke. They sat together in silence, each one staring at the space immediately in front of him.
from “The Glad River” by Will D. Campbell
It took a few minutes to figure out which book this was in and another few minutes to find the right pages, but it was something FirstHusband and I have discussed at length in the past. When a church struggles, it is so heart wrenching. Will it survive and possibly become even stronger? Will it split? Will it die? How, in the process, can God be glorified by the words and actions of those involved?
I’ve written a devotional about a previous church struggle we went through. It’s over on Pragmatic Communion entitled “trials often hide blessings.” Thanks to Mocha with Linda for the devotional’s post title.
I’m sure I’m going to want to find this again, so pardon my “note to self” if you will: found on pages 59-60.
Thanks to my longtime friend, Renee for the following reminder. This is what I was feeling and talking about when I wrote the devotions “i want no regrets” and “what’s next?” on Pragmatic Communion.
“A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him. When the class began, he wordlessly picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was.
The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.
The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded with an unanimous “yes.”
The professor then produced two cups of coffee from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar effectively filling the empty space between the sand. The students laughed.
“Now,” said the professor as the laughter subsided, “I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life. The golf balls are the important things—your family, your children, your health, your friends and your favorite passions—and if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full.
The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your house and your car.
The sand is everything else—the small stuff. “If you put the sand into the jar first,” he continued, “there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls. The same goes for life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff you will never have room for the things that are important to you.
Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness. Spend time with your children. Spend time with your parents. Visit with grandparents. Take time to get medical checkups. Take your spouse out to dinner. Play another 18. There will always be time to clean the house and fix the disposal. Take care of the golf balls first—the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand.
One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the coffee represented. The professor smiled and said, “I’m glad you asked.”
The coffee just shows you that no matter how full your life may seem, there’s always room for a couple of cups of coffee with a friend.”
I’ve heard this story before, but with rocks instead of golf balls. I had never heard the ingredients include coffee before.
Renee, since we live so far apart, we’re gonna need to have “virtual” coffee. Don’t you just LOVE free mobile to mobile?
I’ve been reading Grace Based Parenting by Dr. Tim Kimmel. Chapter 7, The Freedom to Be Different really resonated with me. Check out my latest post over at Pragmatic Communion. It’s about giving my daughter the “freedom to be different.”
Here’s a bit of Dr. Kimmel to ponder:
“The primary way to give our children grace is to offer it in place of our selfish preferences. They receive grace when we choose not to commit sins against their heart when our human nature would suggest that it would be okay to do so. In fact, the greatest grace that children receive is when we can even see the sins we are inclined to commit against their hearts followed by our willingness to go against our selfish urges. So much grace is stolen in the heat of the moment by our selfishness. Kids want things, need things, say things or do things that either bother us, embarrass us, or hurt us. But sometimes the reason we are hurt is because we might be exercising immaturity, insecurity or indifference. We take things that are huge to children and trivialize them, or we take small issues and magnify them out of proportion.”
“If you have a different child and remind her about the sacrifice you’ve made to accommodate her quirks, it is not in a context of grace.”
so I was immediately curious when I read the title of the post: “
