Destination Discipline

We were packing up school assignments, my 12-year-old and I. The teacher reviewed one particular assignment with a hopeful nod. “Ephraim, you need to write a three paragraph summary on one of your heroes that includes the ‘exceptional character traits’ that you want to adopt.”

I was flushed with the excitement of having rushed to the school to pick up my child. I was trying to remember all of the assignments. This one was not written down. I wished the teacher would give me something in writing so I didn’t forget. I am a hopeless case of “if I don’t write it down, I forget it.”

The teacher said, “It can be a comic book hero. A Marvel character or DC.”

I said, “We don’t watch those movies. We’re weird.”

The teacher rolled his eyes and said, “Fine. It can be about Jesus. Whatever.”

I didn’t take offense. I get it. I’m an anomaly. But there was a certain sense of irony in collecting my child (and his assignments) from school because he had just punched another student in the head nine times. Why did he hit him? Because the child hit him with a dodge ball. And the teacher suggesting my son write about Jesus was just icing on the cake.

I felt the mental slap across the face. He may as well have said, “All your Jesus crap doesn’t work. Your kid is a mess. Suspended again! What a bozo!”

It’s hard to not take it personally. I mean, my kid curses. He throws tantrums. He flat out refuses to do homework assignments (especially one that involves writing three paragraphs about a hero). And while I did my best to get him to do his school work for the next 2 days while we were stuck at home, it was more 10% completing work and 90% screaming and telling me what a butthole I am.

I have never felt more lonely in my life, nor more tempted to flip God the bird.

I called two trusted friends because I just wanted someone to comfort me. But no one knows what to say. Not a lot of people have experience with this kind of thing. We already met with the doctor, did more bloodwork and listened to him recommend a child psychologist (been there, done that). It’s just that, there is no “easy button” for my kid and the roller coaster ride of emotions is making me nauseous again.

So when I found the package in my carport with the book I pre-ordered months ago, “Where is God in all the Suffering” by Amy Orr-Ewing, I wept. Then I sat down to read and remember why I believe the way I do.

“Love seems to be at the absolute core of why suffering feels like it does. Suffering feels so wrong to us because of our love for another person who is in distress. We instinctively rage against injustice because we feel that people deserve love and dignity. And when I suffer, the question I am struggling with at the deepest level is this: Am I loved? And if I am truly loved, how could this be happening to me?” – Amy Orr-Ewing.

Amy helped me to understand my suffering–the pain of incredible loneliness I feel when my child is in distress–is deep because I am tempted to believe God has abandoned me. Deep down I wonder, “Does he still love me? If he loves me, why is he allowing this to happen? Why can’t my child be ‘normal’? Why did God make him so ineffably broken?”

I pray and I weep and I wait.

Then I get on my bicycle to ride out all my nervous energy. Because I’m having panic attacks again. And my thoughts are as dark as the tires on my car and spinning like I’m driving 80 on the highway.

I plug in an audio book by Derek Thomas called, “Strength for the Weary.” I pedal and weep. Because the book is written from the final chapters of Isaiah and recounts the promises of God. They comfort me. Thus I began to find my way out of this terrible place–this Land of Lonely.

“The essence of sin is to curve in on ourselves and fail to reflect the glory of God, the image given to us at creation. Like all of Adam’s progeny by nature, Israel was created to give praise to God, yet Israel flouted God’s law and failed to give him the glory due His name. What is shocking is that Isaiah is describing God’s covenant people. Despite all the privileges that grace affords, there was still abject failure and betrayal. It was a wonder that the Lord did not abandon them. He did not abandon them, but he did chastise them. It is vital that we appreciate the difference between abandonment and chastisement. There are consequences to behavior–especially Christian behavior. These consequences follow because we are Christians. ‘My son, do not regard lightly the discipline of the Lord nor be weary when reproved by him. For the Lord disciplines the one he loves and chastises every son whom he receives.’ Hebrews 12:5-6” – Derek Thomas

The truth is, I’m no better at following Jesus than the Israelites were at following the pillar of clouds in the wilderness. Like them, I complain. Like them, I’m sick of manna. Like them, I want a golden cow. Today, my “golden cow” is the notion of a well-behaved son. I worship that idea. I cling to it as if it could save me. And since I don’t have it, I’m frustrated and upset. Worse, the world wants me to have a well-behaved son too. So when I’m upset, they try to tell me how to get one. But when I read my bible I’m reminded just how deep the sin problem goes. He’s got it and so do I. We are rotten to the core and we need God to save us. Without the redeeming blood of Jesus, we would be lost forever.

I was standing in line at the bank yesterday behind a man with tattoos. His whole body was covered with them and they were horrible. His legs and arms were designed to look like demons peering out from tendons and trees. They were screeching and vomiting all manner of stuff. It was disturbing. But I was drawn to him. I started to pray for him and to hope for a way to speak to him. Then he turned and looked at me.

I said, “I was just admiring your artwork.” Which is what I normally say to heavily tattooed people–since I have a large tattoo on my back.

He said, “Thanks, but I haven’t gotten a new tattoo since 2012.”

I said, “Why not?”

He said, “Because of Christ. He saved me. I spent 12 years in the penitentiary and that is where I got all of these. Then one day I found a bible and started reading. I read about Paul in Acts 7 and how he did all of these terrible things and Jesus stopped him and redeemed him. I used to be a heroin addict. I have been clean for 3 years. When God saved me, he healed me from that addiction.”

Someone in line shouted, “AMEN!”

I shook his hand and we talked until the line moved forward. And I told him I hope he tells everybody about Jesus. And he said, “I do!”

That encounter was such an encouragement to me. He was not abandoned in the penitentiary and I am not abandoned in my circumstances.

Today, if you are feeling lost in the land of lonely, keep walking. God is with you. You may not feel that He is, but He is. His promises still hold true: if you belong to him, he will never leave or forsake you.

So while my child may not be writing a paper about Jesus, I’m writing one instead. Because He is my hero. Always and forever. He is the light that guides my path. And because of him, I am no longer lost, but FOUND!

“As soon as we are fully conscious we discover loneliness.” – C.S. Lewis “The Four Loves”

When the phone rang, I was thrilled to hear from my friend. I had reached out to him several times since the onset of the virus last Spring and his voice warmed my heart. But his tone caused my heart to quake. He had called to take issue with some words I had written to my church family. He said, “I want to understand your point of view,” but his tone implied otherwise. What followed was an hour of concerted torture. It was both question and lecture session by he and his wife. I apologized for several misunderstandings they had about me due to him not knowing me as well as I thought he did. We also agreed to disagree on several topics. But the daggers were in my heart. Someone I admired and cherished had thrust unkind words at me and the wounds were deep.

I later asked a church elder, “What happens when you don’t agree ideologically with someone? “And how do we remain friends with someone for whom we have lost respect?”

He said, “You don’t.”

The message the church people sent was clear: I don’t know you well and I don’t care to know you well. I would rather misunderstand and lecture you. And either you do what I think is right or you are sinning.

I confided the situation to a friend and she said, “You need to acquiesce to the “weaker brother”. But I had trouble wrapping my mind around the “weaker brother” being a seminary graduate with decades of experience in the pulpit. Therefore, the problem must be me.

And so… I quit going to church. I quit online church. And while I had been regularly praying for my church family, I stopped that too. Sure, I would squeak out a few lines here and there, but for the most part I withdrew. I turned to online ministries and trusted relationships with other believers. I joined a ladies prayer group. I spent time mentoring with other women of the faith. And I waited. I waited for people at my church to reach out to me in concern. And sadly, they didn’t. And I began to see my church as a hollow shell for superficial people posing as Christians but not willing to do real relational work.

Love is intricately complex. We long to be loved but reject loving others by the same standard we hold them to. Christians are particularly guilty because we have a whole guidebook on how to love people well and still screw it up.

After a while, my pastor reached out and we had a productive conversation. I explained to him the problem of the lack of real relationships in the church. He told me I just needed to join a house group. Thus began the earnest campaign to get me to join a house group. Just what I needed. Another condition from the “church club”.

Meanwhile, the days have turned into months as I try to process my role in this situation. In the Spring, I fought hard to establish relationships. I wrote letters to people I didn’t know well. I made phone calls. The net result was one new friend. And she confided in me that I was the first person in decades to try to form a real relationship with her. Somehow, I don’t think this is the vision the Apostle Paul had for the church.

The world is littered with people who have been hurt by the church. We give up. We fade out. Is it because the church is a sham? Is it because church people are judgmental? I mean, why else do professing Christians treat each other so abominably?

Could it be because they too are sinners?

We have this idea that we get “saved” and stop sinning. After all, that’s why the world accuses us regularly of hypocrisy. But we forget what the bible says about sin.

“If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.” 1 John 1:8

“If we say we have not sinned, we make him a liar, and his word is not in us.” 1 John 1:10

Let me be clear, the book of 1 John makes me uncomfortable.

I like to sit down to read my bible and consider how “holy” I am and what a good little Christian girl I am. But that book won’t let me off the hook so easily. Chapter 2 begins, “My little children, I am writing these things to you so that you may not sin.” But I already know from the Apostle Paul that I cannot stop sinning.

Romans 7:15-19 says, “For I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate. Now if I do what I do not want, I agree with the law, that it is good. So now it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me. For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh. For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want, it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me. So I find it to be a law that when I want to do right, evil lies close at hand.” 

This makes it very difficult for me to sit back and point fingers at “church people” while resting on my “laurels of holiness.” Because the truth is, I’m just as much of a sinner as they are. And my love is just as conditional as theirs. Real love forgives. So, I have to ask myself, “Do I love (forgive) them or not?”

And finally I have come to the crux of what I want to say. The church people hurt my feelings but that in itself was not particularly sinful.

They wanted me to follow rules that I did not agree with. From my perspective, those rules have no basis in scripture, but are rather rooted in the cultural narratives at work in society today. And since we have failed to cultivate the muscle of respectful debate that is rooted and grounded in love, people (like me!) are leaving the church. They are hiding in their homes with hurt feelings. Because our “love” is conditional too. We don’t want to be friends with people who differ along ideological lines.

I want to be in the club where everyone agrees. I want everyone to agree on mask usage and social justice issues. I want people to stop saying hateful things to each other because they are more concerned about control than love. Whether we like it or not, truth has become relative. We have a million talking heads telling us what to think, do or say, and every one has a different life experience and perspective from which to arrive at their conclusion. Far too few are willing to sort out the issue and have a rational conversation that ends kindly and respectfully. Instead, we pop up with our thought or opinion, spout off at someone who thinks differently, and then crawl back in our hole. We are also proud and unwilling to acknowledge we could be wrong. This is a two way street. As Christians, we should form our relationships around the gospel message and then actually live it out.

I feel vulnerable writing all of this. I have been weeping this morning. I miss my church family. I miss the people I thought they were as much as they probably miss who they thought I was. Fear and doubt have come seeping in like a toxic poison. Because that’s what happens when illusions are shattered and things are said that can’t be unsaid. And the truth is, I’m a coward. I’m afraid to face them. And the enemy told me they don’t want me anymore and I’m inclined to believe him.

Maybe it’s time to build a bridge of love that is unconditional. You know, the kind Jesus came to earth to build between us and the Father. He sees all of our sin and loves us unconditionally.

“For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. For one will scarcely die for a righteous person–though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die–but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” Romans 5:5-7

This kind of irrational love should motivate us to set hurt feelings aside and press forward in love. And while much can be said about “maintaining healthy boundaries” and “loving the weaker brother” etc., the truth is, real love sacrifices self. Re-read 1 Corinthians 13 if you’re confused. And then ask the Holy Spirit to give you the courage to step forward in faith. I know I am.

And yes, it is messy. And uncomfortable. And terribly awkward.

But we have to do it anyway.

It’s funny how adulthood sneaks up on you. Birthdays as a child are so exciting and magical. One never knows what exciting thing will happen. We wait with impatience for the clown to jump out of the cake or for the trip to the circus or for the plush animal we wanted “all our life”. But adulthood is waking up on your birthday with a pinched nerve in your back and numbness in your legs. Adulthood is arguing with a panic attack (also at 4am) to go away and “don’t come back another day!” Adulthood is grumbling out of bed and scolding the dogs so they don’t wake up the other people in the house and not even realizing it is a noteworthy day. Wait, what? It’s my birthday?

Grandma Margaret

I fully realize I have officially been an adult for a few years now, but this year it feels real. Like, even my breath smells old. I have a streak of silver in my hair. I regret my digestive tract. A co-worker asked me if I have a black eye on Zoom. No, that’s just the circles that tell me I’m not 25 anymore. And it’s true; I am a grandmother. But that’s no excuse!

Annabelle–my boxer–who thinks it’s her birthday every day wants to play with the “evil monkey” I got at the thrift store but I have to work. There are too many competing priorities to play “throw the soggy monkey”! And right about the time time I finish one project, I realize I have 17 more. And while I want to throw a pity party, I simply don’t have capacity at the moment!

But on a quick bathroom break I realize something awful. I have forgotten how to have fun. This realization frightens me. I don’t eat cake. I don’t eat ice cream. This sugar-free lifestyle suddenly feels very restrictive and weird. But then I realize something more powerful: I don’t have to buy into the cultural narrative of what birthday fun is. Fun is what I want it to be. After all, it’s my birthday! Not anyone elses!

So after I finished my workday, I put on a nice pair of jeans and a leather jacket and took my dog, Tank, for a walk. We looked at the blue sky and fluffy white clouds. We waved at cars. We took deep, cleansing breaths. It was wonderful. Then, I had my son take my picture for posterity. This is what my birthday in 2020 looks like. I am happy—pinched nerve and all! And I am really happy I have a good chiropractor (who I visited at lunch) to adjust my vertebrae so I could go on that short walk. Dr. Amy is amazing!

And now, for my last bit of fun. I want to do something bold! Something CRAZY! I took some pictures a month ago to mark my 10 years of living a healthy lifestyle. I have managed to lose a few pounds during the pandemic and am officially 150 pounds lighter than I was in May of 2010. That figure astounds me. And while I do not have a perfect body and I don’t know how to “airbrush” or “photoshop”, I took a few pictures so I could remember what it feels like to be “not quite a super model but supremely satisfied with my physique”. And I am going to post one of those pictures here. Don’t zoom in or you’ll see the stretch marks! But seriously, Praise God from whom all blessings flow. He has helped me to be victorious over my battle with food addiction and I am so, so happy for his friendship.

I can’t believe that’s me!

And now, I think I shall retire to a nice, soothing Epsom salt bath that involves listening to classical music. After all, that sounds better than 10 chocolate cupcakes! Happy birthday to me!

PS: Mom, I love my birthday gift. Bunny salt and pepper shakers are not lame at all!