Replacing Responsibility

Yesterday was letter 'T' day for Caleb at his preschool.  He took careful preparation in collecting his train tracks and placing them in a ziploc.  I was hurriedly trying to finish chores so we could be halfway on time and told him to get his things and get in the van.  Halfway to the church, I ask him about his train tracks.  Immediate emotional shutdown-Caleb remembered the backpack but forgot the train tracks.

I am hurled into a moment of truth.  Do I turn around and get his train tracks or is this a life lesson of facing responsibility?  For Caleb, it is my fault, and he tells me so.  Is it my responsibility, or has he tried to replace the responsibility onto my shoulders because he doesn't want to face it on his own?

This reminds me of a close friend of ours.  Anytime my husband tries to talk to him about coming to church, any church, trying to get him to develop a relationship with our Savior, his argument is he's just as good as all those judgmental hypocrites who go to church and try to pretend they're better than everyone else.  And the sad reality is he has a point.  But he's missing the bigger issue.  He is replacing personal responsibility for his salvation with finger-pointing competitions, judging others for judging him.  Hmmm, maybe that's not such a comical irony.

Maybe it's time we all quit making excuses for why we are the way we are and own up to the fact that we are responsible.  The choices we make are our own decisions, regardless of some of the very real, very hard events that have occured in our pasts.  And the future we carve out is in our hands, until we make THE right decision-placing it in His hands.

I kept driving.  And when we got to preschool, a fellow mom expressed her concern for Caleb.  So I explained to her, and his teachers, the events that had transpired since leaving our home.  And the whole way back home I battled whether I should step in and save the day and return to an elated Caleb with his train tracks.  But I knew in my heart the answer.  It is my place as his mom to replace responsibility back onto his shoulders, because if he never holds the key to his own future, if I am always stepping in to fix life for him, he will never hold the key to Heaven, because he will still be expecting me to obtain it for him.  And I certainly hope to see him there with me someday, so I am choosing to think big as I start small.

Competing Comparisons

It must have started when I was born, at least I have no recollection of it being any other way-confined to competing against others around me because when I compare myself to them, I don’t measure up.

Like when I was in elementary school.  My dad arrived home from a ride on his motorcycle.  Now our mother had warned us plenty of times to stay away from the bike because we could burn ourselves on the exhaust.  My sister accidentally grabs hold of the muffler while we are playing and starts to cry, stating it is very hot and has burnt hands to prove it.  In my arrogant competitiveness, I tell her she is a wimp and proceed to grab the muffler for myself, only to find I am not the tough stuff I think I am.   A little girl competing against comparisons because when I sized up my sister, my internal defense mechanisms sprung to action to remedy my lacking significance.

I would like to say three decades remedied my dilemma, but I would be lying.  I have two friends who are rather ‘popular’ in their respective fields and are gaining renowned prominence.  Just today my Facebook stalking left me inwardly cringing a bit over their newest triumph toward public advancement.  And I found myself once again competing against the comparisons that wage war in my mind and heart.

Ugghh.   This is only the beginning of my disparaged tale of past competitive comparisons.  Throughout my school years, I did everything in my power to be the valedictorian of the classroom and the MVP of the court, which then turned into attempts to be the Teacher of the Year and the envy of the neighborly husbands.  When that became obviously impossible, it switched to Martha Steward Living for my homestead and the Brady bunch saga for my family, which then evolved to encompass goals of martyrdom and Billy Graham acclaims.  Yet time after repetitive time, the devil whispered on: 

“Oh, look how talented they are.  You’ll never be that talented.”

“Wow, she’s really got it all together.  Her house is beautiful.  She is beautiful.  Her children are beautiful.  Everything about her is just so-so. Even in her lounge pants and sweatshirt she’s got you beat.”

“You’ve wasted your whole life trying to be like Jesus and look at you.  You can’t even measure up enough to influence one person to Christ.”

“Try as you may, but you’ll never get it together.  Why don’t you just give up and deal with the fact you’ll always be a little less than impressive.”

Years of sharing life tells me I am not alone in this matter, but tonight I feel very isolated.  My heart screams everyone else is something and I am nothing.  I have missed the boat when I tried to step out and walk on water.  God called and I failed.  If only . . .

And then in the midst I again hear God’s voice.  It is not loud.  It is not prominent.  It is simply there.  And he says I am something.  He says He is not comparing me to anyone else in this world so neither should I.  He tells my heart to stop beating for the recognition of others and start pounding for the fulfillment of His very being indwelling me.  He reminds me that in His eyes, I always measure up, I am always significant. 

And then I hear loud and clear what he perhaps wants me to hear most of all.  As long as I am following His lead in His kingdom and remaining obedient to His call for my life, I AM GAINING RENOWNED PROMINENCE,  only I’m laying up treasures and trophies where it counts-gaining fame for The Famous One.

“You are the Lord, the Famous One, Famous One.  Great is Your Name in all the earth.  The Heavens declare, “You’re glorious, glorious.”  Great is your Fame beyond the earth.” –Chris Tomlin

So if I never become anyone in your eyes, it’s okay.  I am with someone and in someone and part of someone who is the greatest Someone in all the heavens and all the earth.   And that, dear friends, makes me Someone too, for now and forevermore.

The Dandelion Rose

The Dandelion Rose

written for Kyle and Jessica, June 2011

The story goes of a weathered couple who had seen countless years of the storms of this life.  In spite of life’s missiles though, they were just one of those couples that permeate a soft, smooth, warming effect to all who came into their presence. 

This couple, faithful in much, remained as such in their daily walks.  Every morning, they would drive out to a little country church, park their green ford ranger, and then walk several miles down the oil and chip and back, so they could return to their home in town and the tasks their days brought.

The years went on in such a manner, until one fall they began encountering a younger woman out for her daily run.  No words exchanged, but of course always the warmth of a smile.  Perhaps she thought of them much, perhaps not so much until a need arose.  The busyness of youth tends to heed self-focus instead of outreaching contemplation.  But the couple prayed.  Every day they prayed for her.

The leaves fell, the winter snow set in, then the cold began to melt way to the warming of spring flowers.  Still faithful, every morning the drive, the walk, the return to daily life.  But this particular morning dawned anew.  As our couple approached the normal place they met their running friend, she was nowhere in sight.  They walked on and before long they came upon her, curled into a ball by the side of the road.  The older woman rushed to her aid.  With a tear-stained cheek and a bloody lip, the young woman explained her fall and the impending damage, and asked for help.  Immediately, the husband walked as fast as he could back to the ranger, leaving the two women with life and all the calamities it brings.

As the young woman sat in her sorrow, she suddenly thought of this couple, wondering how their life could bring such happiness when hers had brought much sorrow.  Pain-stricken and tired from the days’ bringing, she looked at the woman and spoke with a twinge of bitterness, “My life has been full of stench and heartbreak and ugliness.  So I must know, how do I get what you have?”

The older woman’s face slowly lit with the warmth of a weathered joy-filled smile.  She simply said, “Most of life on this earth is full of stench and heartbreak and ugliness.  But God is a perfuming, beautiful love for all who welcome Him in.  Sweetheart, it’s not the details of my life that are any different than yours, it’s the focus.”

Perhaps the young woman would have left in amazed shock had the older woman shared the very real, very monotonous, very hardships of her life.  Perhaps the older woman would have left encouraged had she known that her simple words had the power to change a life.  But perhaps, yes perhaps, the God of All saw it all and He is the only focal point.

A Cancer of the Heart

We found out yesterday that a good friend of our family has cancer.  Several months ago our community found out that a teacher and coach of our local school district for countless years has cancer.  My grandma died of cancer.  Someone you love has probably suffered from cancer.  It is affecting.  It is infecting, as it reaches its ugly fingers deep into our souls and begins to spread wide its grasp of debilitating fear, unspeakable pain, and gripping loss.  And as I sat my children down to explain to them, the tears welled in my eyes, as I look at them and know they don’t really understand, but they know it is serious enough to cause Mommy to cry, so they should take note and store this recollection for some other rainy day, when cancer will again rear its ugly head and come a knockin on our door.  For though we know not it’s next victim, we know it’s next victim is inescapable, as are the effects of it tidal waves ripping through our family, through our world, for endless years to come.

It has made me think about my Jesus.  We are in the midst of a service project at our church.  We had sign-up sheets out for a couple of weeks and very few responded.  So our pastor gives the congregation a talk, call it a guilt-trip if you will, but I say more of a motivational speech.  And the people of God’s church responded.  One member commented that guilt is a good motivator.  And though unfortunately she is very correct, I couldn’t help respond yes, but wouldn’t it be awesome if love for Jesus were our greatest motivator.

I mean think about that.  Really stop and think about that.  Imagine all the things we could do for our dying world if we simply loved Jesus enough to do what he asks of us.  Imagine all the people we could influence if we joined together and died to ourselves and took up our cross and followed him.  Not just gave verbal recognition of our love for Him, but demonstrated our love for Him in this, that we lay down our lives for our friends, for our brothers, for people we don’t even know.

But instead we as Christians have allowed Satan to implant cancer into our hearts.  And it is affecting.  It is infecting.  It is reaching its ugly fingers deep into our souls and spreading wide its grasp of debilitating fear to speak up, unspeakable pain that we refuse to share for fear others will judge us or that we won’t measure up, and gripping loss as we lose out on the best opportunity to be fully well-living a life for Jesus as the Holy Spirit fills us to the point of bursting out onto everyone around us.  Satan’s cancer has moved into our hearts and convinced us that attending church is just one more event on our calendar.

I’m tired of cancer.  I’m tired of showing up but not really getting in the game.  I’m ready to engage.  And I’m ready to fight like a child of God.