Pages

Saturday, July 30, 2016

Left Justified



Forgiveness. 

It's a tough thing. Perhaps the toughest thing I've walked through. 

Life is difficult; painful, tragic. It's true. But when you take that and mix in pain that is directly caused by someone else - particularly someone you have loved or someone that you would logically think would have an obligation to love you (like a parent) - it subsequently makes life even more difficult. Difficult multiplied. It is one thing to deal with pain and tragedy in this life. It's an entirely separate beast when you are confronted with the pain and tragedy of INFLICTED pain (however intentional). Complexly compounded. 

For years, I struggled with this layered pain, alongside the importance of forgiveness. I was well-aware of the toxicity of un-forgiveness. Well....at least in my head. Within the space between my ears, I could share with you the reasons and importance for forgiveness. It was clear to me. Logical, even. But by the time it traveled to my heart, it wasn't so clear. Muddy. Messy. It became something else. Something I struggled to understand. Something I struggled to remedy. 

Forgive. 

It was on my moral "to-do" list that was largely formulated by my faith. [Side Note: the "to-do" list could easily be another blog post. As hard as it is for me not to take this rabbit trail, I'm leaving this here. For now.] Forgiveness was something I "knew" I needed to do. In light of scripture, this might seem like a healthy statement.

It really isn't. 

The charge to simply forgive was overwhelming. I tried. Believe you me, I tried. I'd get a step forward...thinking that I had made ample progress...only to be enlightened of how little I had actually moved. Here's the thing...I was missing the most important piece. 

Personally, I believe forgiveness is part of our commandment to love. Not the kind of love that we use it to describe how we feel about something tangible, like an item of food, clothing, or even an amazing scenic view. Not that love. The kind of love that - outside of God - is humanly impossible. The same is true for forgiveness. The level of love - or forgiveness - that God calls us to, requires something that we do not have apart from Him. 

You see...something happens when our perspective shifts. When we begin to grab ahold of who God is (and, subsequently, who we are and how he moves through us), the "to-do" list becomes a "done" list. It takes what we "need" to do and turns it into what has been "given" to us. And here's the thing...coming to terms with who God TRULY is - not our perception of who He is - CAUSES us to forgive in a way that appears illogical to those on the outside. (I specifically chose to use the word "cause" instead of the word "allows"). It can even appear foolish.

Justification.

If you looked around, it wouldn't take you very long to find someone who believes they are justified in being angry with someone who caused them great pain. Forgiveness withheld. Justifiably so. When looking at justification this way, it would be logical to come to the conclusion that justification, in fact, leads to un-forgiveness...but in fact, the opposite is true.

Let me explain my thoughts...

My daughter was recently featured in a blog post that touched on just a few issues of brokenness, abandonment, and difficulty she's experienced in her 22 years of life on this earth. Reading her heart is difficult for this mama. [Side note: Pain afflicted by me, personally, is tough. But as a parent, there is no greater pain than pain afflicted on and by my children (possible secondary side note here, but I'll leave it aside for now)]. It surpasses what would typically be considered to be my personal pain tolerance and branches out to a universe that stirs a mama bear to think and react in un-restricted, irrational ways.

Her story has enough material suitable to justify resentment, clinch on to anger, and withhold forgiveness, for several lifetimes...and then some.

Justified.

It's what she is. And subsequently, as a mom, It's what I am. Justified to hold a grudge. Justified to be angry (with myself included...I'm not innocent here). Justified to block people from my life. Justified to never look back. Justified to close off a part of my heart and not release it to anyone.

No one would blame me. No one would think twice.

Justified.

It's the way of this world. You can't step out of your bed without experiencing it. Step outside...it's all around you. Pick up a paper...forget about it. Get on social media...don't get me started. It's everywhere.

The first two definitions of the word 'justified' are this; "To show and act, claim, statement to be just or right" and "To defend or uphold as warranted or well-grounded".

Here's the next definition: "To declare innocent or guiltless; absolve; acquit"

Same word. Two very different meanings.

It's not the first word I've come across that fits on both sides of the spectrum. I'm convinced God does this on purpose.

While the article only touches on a few of the things my daughter has encountered...it would be enough. Enough - in and of itself - to justify holding love. To justify resentment. To justify un-forgiveness. To justify closing off our heart. Then, you add in the other elements that are too numerous to add in one article....done. Baked. Toast. Forget about it. No question. Case closed.

Have I made my point?

Here's the thing...the more I come to a better understanding of who God is...and, subsequently who WE are TO Him and how He works things IN and THROUGH us...the less I'm able to hold on to those things. The less I am able to "justify" un-forgiveness. The more I see (and seek) God, the less justified I become in my resentment, anger, and heart-protection.

Unlike something that I work towards, this is something that has happens TO me, over time. In spite of my desire for it to be a switch...a clean "off" and "on"(it's not, trust me!)...I've learned that it can often be a process. A process of God tending to me.

Over the years, God has slowly and methodically worked on my heart...by opening my eyes...by giving me tastes of wisdom...a glimpse of HIS picture. It's a process. One that becomes impossible for me to achieve on my own (believe you me, I've tried!).  In fact, the harder I try, the less it works. It's only when I release my part...my grasp (and essentially my "credit" in all of it)...and open my hands to receive what He has for me, that it happens. It just happens. It is CAUSED. By God.

God changes our heart.

He justifies.

But in a different way than we are used to.  

You see, the mere act of acknowledging God's goodness - His unchanging mercy, His never-ending grace - frees me from the inclination to blame. Why? Because in those things....in the broken, messy, painful...God is still good. His plan is better than anything I could come up with on my own. He works those things into a beauty that I could not have, apart from Him, even have fathomed. He causes me to embrace the broken, messy pieces of my life and gives me hope that He will provide the same peace to my daughter...and anyone else who needs the reconciliation God offers. That through all of this, we come out on top. Better. Healthier. More whole. Closer to Him than we ever would have been, apart from the broken things we would logically want removed from our life. Not in spite, but because.

And within all of this, is the understanding that I am forgiven. Declared innocent. Guiltless. Absolved. Acquitted.

Left justified.

It's who we are in Christ (what freedom!). And once we grasp this, it's what we - subsequently - get to extend to those around us, by the way of the Holy Spirit.

Forgiveness. It'a messy, dangerous, beautiful thing. And it happens when justification gets flipped on its head.

Jesus was all about turning things upside down.

Friday, July 29, 2016

Blessed by association.


Photo credit: Marilyn Diaz @ marilyndays.com 


So, I have this daughter. She's kind of wrecked my world.

Two weeks ago, her brothers and I attended a week-long church camp where she is employed for the summer, nestled beautifully in the Santa Cruz mountains. The first encounter I had with one of her co-workers was her looking at me, taking a moment, and then saying (excitedly), "You must be Patch's mom!!!" (Patch is Emily's summer camp name)

This sentiment isn't new to Emily. She started hearing it in High School, along with the comment that we could be sisters (which isn't a bad thing for her mom, mind you!). She would role her eyes every time someone would make any reference to us looking alike. Someone once tried to bridge the gap by saying, "It's a compliment, Emily. Your mom is beautiful." Her response..."I want to be my own kind of beautiful."

I get it. I respect it. I even admire it.

Over the course of our week at Mount Hermon, she heard it multiple times, by multiple people. "Wow! You guys look so much alike!" "Are you Emily's sister?!" Perhaps she would share with you that it doesn't bother her anymore...that it's starting to grow on her....and that, perhaps, she even likes it. A mom could only hope.

Here's the thing....her mama LOVES it.

But not for the reasons you might think.

Sure...the older you get, the nicer it is to have people think I'm younger than I really am (side note: it has not always been a nice thing!), but the real reason I love it is because it swells my heart to have people know me as HER MAMA. To have people look at me and KNOW that she is mine.

I am blessed by association. <3

I can't begin to express how proud I am of her. Of who she is...Of whose she is...Of who she is going to be...Of the journey she is on...And that I was given the glorious privilege of being her mom. It's often overwhelming...to the core.

This isn't to say that things are perfect. Quite the contrary. We've struggled. I made mistakes. She took on more than any child/teen should have had to. She watched me collapse on the floor in panic when life seemed to be falling apart. We butted heads for many years. She was my 'saving grace' for many years, when I had hope in nothing else. She is responsible for bringing me back to church.

She is brave. She is fragile. She is gracious. She is talented. She is a learner. She is vulnerable. She yearns to live...and live large. I could go on.

So here it is....

With every, "You look alike", I bask in the knowledge that God - for whatever glorious reason- gave her to me (temporarily).

With every "You could be sisters", I bask in the understanding that God has worked through our relationship to bring us back to Him.

And no matter how far she travels from home, I will rest in the assurance that people see HER when they see ME. That is a precious thought. <3

Thursday, July 28, 2016

On being replanted




This is a cyclamen plant, similar to one I received as a Christmas gift from one of my piano students in 2009. After bringing it home from my studio, I sat it next to my kitchen sink and enjoyed it's precious flowers as I washed dishes. I loved the way the blossoms branched up and away from the base of leaves, as if reaching for the sky. It was fragile, yet strong. Noble, yet delicate.

And there it sat. 

Every once in a while I would water it...expecting that it would continue to bring life to my kitchen along with the pleasure that I had something to remind me of my precious students. 

Then...day by day...it started to wither and die. Until there was nothing left. No sign of life.

I was sure I killed it.

Did I water it too much?! Not enough?!

I was devastated.

In spite of seeing no sign of life and for whatever reason,  I was given hope...when all signs pointed a different direction...and so I continued to water it. For months. And months. I still don't understand why I didn't give up. Visually, there was no sign of change. Rationally, it was gone. And yet, I kept watering.

Then one day...finally...a sprout appeared. Then another. And another. Pretty soon, my plant was back to the size it was when it was gifted to me. What I had failed to realize is that it was a perennial. It's what they do, evidently. Who knew?! (I'm sure there are a lot of you that did!) How excited and relieved I was to see it sprout little tendril legs and start to grow again!

Although I could bring the story to an end right here and have it be a charming story about hope in times when there seems to be no sign of life... that isn't where this story ends. There's more.

There always is with God. 

So...I had this plant sitting next to my sink on my kitchen counter and was showing it off to a friend. I brought her to the plant in the kitchen and shared the story...rounding it out with my excitement about how it was "thriving" (yes...that is the EXACT word I used!)...and sharing with her how tickled I was that I didn't kill the thing.

That is when my dear friend - full if grace - gave me a healthy dose of reality.

"The plant would be MUCH bigger - and happier - if it was in larger pot and exposed to some morning sun" she said, full of wisdom. "It's not thriving. It's surviving." Surviving. I instantly knew she was right (I had witnessed, first hand, the proof that she knew more about gardening than me!).   

Surviving? Yes!

Thriving?...That's a bit of a stretch.

This has since become my life metaphor. For many years 'survival mode' was my normal. So normal, that I could not acknowledge or accept that there were wonderful possibilities beyond where I was. Hoping was scary. Dreaming was dangerous. Anticipation simply led to disappointment. I wanted to thrive, but survival is where I sat. Even years after I had identified my state.

Better was better...right?! After all, I wasn't struggling the way I used to. I (we) had made progress. We had moved forward...some. We weren't as bad off as we were five years ago. I should be content...right?...Isn't content where God wants us? 

Here's what I have since come to terms with...

Survival mode is purposeful. It has its place. It's meant to keep us alive. It's meant to give us just what we need in order to not give up completely on this broken world (and the Lord knows how close I came to this point!). Survival mode is meant to be temporary. It's a season. 

But we aren't supposed to stay there. There is a big difference between stagnant water and flowing water (expounding on this will have to involve a future post). 

We have metaphors for this all around us and this plant just happens to be one of them. In order for the plant to "thrive", it needed to be moved. To a pot with more space for roots. To a place where sun was more available (I'm claiming this literally and figuratively). To a place with room to grow. Sure, it was beautiful in the pot next to the sink...but is that what it was truly created to be? 

What IF?...

What IF I allow myself to release my grip on the limit I had placed on my life...and - ultimately - God? What IF I allow myself to be re-planted...rooted...somewhere different...somewhere that gave me room to grow? What IF I release control of how I grow (how big and how fast) to God, while simply cooperating and trusting Him with the process? What IF?

I have witnessed too much to take it lightly.

I have been shown too much to turn my back.

I can't un-see what it is I've seen.

I  realize that there are some who just don't get it. It's ok. A year ago, I might have been more concerned with this. More apprehensive to move unless others around me saw what I saw. Needing confirmation and approval before taking a step. Asking for permission from others before placing my trust in Him.

But here's what I've learned...This process is between me and God (don't get me wrong...every one around me is part of the journey, but the only one I'm accountable to is HIM). It is in HIS hands that I place my trust. With HIM I place my hope. To HIM I release my expectations.

Is it scary? Yep. Am I nervous? Sure. But the hope I've been given surpasses any fear. And the peace surpasses understanding.

There is nothing...I mean nothing...like being inside the will of God. Conversely, the same is true.

When God makes it clear, my job is to listen...and move. The moving part is usually where we get stuck (and when I say "we", I mean "I"). Thankfully, I've reached a point where moving is the only option.

So with that...a handful of faith, along with some intentional 'positioning'...I am stepping out. Leaving my survival mode where it belongs. I'm looking forward, in hopeful anticipation, to the growth that lies ahead. This blog is one of several pieces to this intricate step of faith.

And if you happen to see me and think for one minute that there aren't any blossoms to show for the move...

Please be patient with me.

God may still be watering.