Is it just me, or do you often find that the reality of life has a way of running over the religious doctrine that teaches that, if you’re a Christian, life will always be good or that even if it's not good, you need to pretend that it is? Oh, it’s not often stated that directly, but challenging times, times that make us wonder whether we really are alone in the world, doubts and despair, are often quickly dismissed by well-meaning Christians who interpret these feelings as a lack of faith or spiritual immaturity.
Here’s the truth of the matter, straight from Jesus: “In this world you will have trouble but take heart, I have overcome the world."
You and I need to know that. There’s power in knowing that. Why? Because often when we have trouble the enemy starts to work on us. Are we in sin? Where did we mess up? What did we do that we shouldn’t have done or not do that we should have done? Yes, sometimes, we are in sin, or we have messed up, or we’ve been lazy or acted when we shouldn’t have. Sometimes we bring trouble on ourselves. But a lot of times, we just have trouble. It’s just a part of life. Things break. People fail us purely out of their own humanity. We get caught up in natural disasters or economic crashes completely not of our making. What then?
Not If, but When
I call these the “when” times, because it’s not a matter of if we will face difficulties but when. These “whens” are coming, so what do we need to know about them when they do?
“But now, this is what the LORD says—he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: ‘Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze. For I am the LORD, your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior …’” Isaiah 43:1–3 (NIV)
The Message paraphrase puts it this way: “But now, God's Message, the God who made you in the first place, Jacob, the One who got you started, Israel: ‘Don't be afraid, I've redeemed you. I've called your name. You're mine. When you're in over your head, I'll be there with you. When you're in rough waters, you will not go down. When you're between a rock and a hard place, it won't be a dead end—Because I am God, your personal God, The Holy of Israel, your Savior.’”
In the “when” times, you and I can know that God is with us as our savior, redeemer, provider, rescuer—anything we need. That’s where the “take heart, I’ve overcome the world” reminder comes into the picture.
You Are Not Alone
Joshua, Moses’ right-hand man, was in a “when” time. Lots of them as a matter of fact. But this particular “when” came with a huge amount of responsibility, pressure, and risk. After wandering around the wilderness for 40 years with Moses and millions of doubting, recently freed Israelites, Moses died.
The figurehead of the nation, the man who sat with God and came back with the Ten Commandments—not once but twice—was gone. The leader through whom God had worked countless miracles of deliverance and provision died, and they didn’t even have his bones to bury, because the Lord took him and buried him in an unknown place.
The Israelites grieved for 30 days, and Scripture records: “Since then, no prophet has risen in Israel like Moses, whom the LORD knew face to face, who did all those miraculous signs and wonders the LORD sent him to do in Egypt—to Pharaoh and to all his officials and to his whole land. For no one has ever shown the mighty power or performed the awesome deeds that Moses did in the sight of all Israel” Deuteronomy 34:10–12 (NIV).
So here’s Joshua. His leader—the nation’s leader, unsurpassed prophet and miracle worker—is dead. And who gets to lead the millions who’ve been doubting, murmuring, and complaining, and are now grieving, into the Promised Land? Joshua. Thanks for that, God. No pressure there. This is the same land that was filled with giants in the spies’ report 40 years ago. That’s not changed. It’s still occupied territory. This is an exponentially challenging “when” time.
God understood this. He knew that Joshua was facing a difficult—impossible in his own strength and wisdom—proposition. God knew that Joshua was afraid and doubtful of their chances for success. How do I know this? Because God took the time, not once but three times, to build him up and assure him that God was right in the middle of this “when” and they were guaranteed the victory.
The third time, God said, “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).
If you’re in a “when” time that seems overwhelming and unsalvageable, I encourage you to read the book of Joshua and all of the ways that God showed out during the “whens.” I promise, you’ll be inspired. But for now, here’s what you need to know about this story:
“So the LORD gave Israel all the land he had sworn to give their forefathers, and they took possession of it and settled there. The LORD gave them rest on every side, just as he had sworn to their forefathers. Not one of their enemies withstood them; the LORD handed all their enemies over to them. Not one of all the LORD's good promises to the house of Israel failed; every one was fulfilled,” Joshua 21:43–45 NIV.
Oh, yeah, the people of Israel experienced some “when” times. They met dirt, grime, war, hardships, and defeats along the way to the Promised Land, but when it was all said and done, they had complete victory.
Know This
You, too, will endure some "when" times, but with God—who goes with you anywhere you go—you are empowered with everything you need to handle them: You are more than a conqueror. The one who is in you (God’s Spirit) is greater than anything you may face in the world. No weapon formed against you will prevail. God will never leave you or forsake you.
Because of your faith in Jesus, you are God’s child. And if you and I, who are human, know how to give good gifts to our kids, how much more does God know how to give good things to us when we ask?
Lastly, maybe you’re not the one in a “when” time, but someone you love is. In addition to your prayers for them, what do they need from you? “Be happy with those who are happy, and weep with those who weep.” Romans 12:15 (NLT). Be there for them through their doubts and fears. Laugh with them and cry with them. Encourage them about the victory that will come through God’s faithfulness and power despite the “when.”
“In this world you will have trouble but take heart, I have overcome the world." That victory is not a matter of if but when!
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Girl's Got Some Issues
It was three o'clock in the morning, and I remember it like it was yesterday. Sitting in his mother's den, I was frantic that Rob (my then-boyfriend, now ex-husband) was not home and had not called. As I cried to his mother and wondered aloud whether we should call the highway patrol and the emergency rooms, she seemed surprisingly noncommittal. Did I really think that something had happened to Rob? She supposed that he was just out having a good time with friends.
"No," I fervently protested. "That's just not like him not to call." I was only 19 or 20 at the time and didn't realize then all of the scared, lonely nights that lay before me. The reality was that he was out with friends having a good time that night and had not thought to call. In the years to come, it became "my" issue. Didn't I know better than to think he was dead in a ditch somewhere?
Over time, the problem escalated to the point that despite my worry for him, I did believe that it was more likely than not that he would make it home sometime late into the night, extremely intoxicated and not in the least sorry for the concern that he had caused. As the years went by, my fear was slowly replaced by anger and bitterness that were kept at bay on all but the worst nights when he'd come home drunk and amorous and not wanting to accept no for an answer.
This came to an abrupt end three years into our marriage with a phone call I received in the middle of a sunny, hot Texas afternoon. "Ask your husband about Diane," was the first thing the anonymous caller said.
"What?"
"Ask your husband who he was with last night."
"Who are you and why are you calling here?"
"Because I think you should know that your husband was out with Diane all night."
I stood there shocked and appalled as the caller hung up. In the midst of all my previous feelings of fear and anger, it had never occurred to me that Rob would actually be out with another woman. I know that sounds naive, but despite any other issues, we were really good friends who enjoyed each other's company and an active, adventurous sex life. What reason would he possibly have for stepping out with someone else?
When Rob returned home that evening, he answered my questions with, "Don't be ridiculous. I may have been dancing with girls at the club last night, but I wasn't out with anyone." Pressed further, my fears were deemed "crazy," and I was warned not to become one of "those controlling, obsessive wives."
To my credit, the latest escalation was enough to make me demand we go to marriage counseling. It was a grueling, weekly process with each session ending in a near-migraine headache. Rob stood his ground. He was not having, nor had he ever had, an affair.
Life-Changing Phone Call
After nearly six months in marriage counseling and sober, responsible, repentant behavior on Rob's part, I came to the conclusion that we were ready to phase out of the counseling. There hadn't been any more anonymous calls, unexplained debit charges, or late nights out. Rob was as attentive as he had been when we first started dating.
And then the break-through bleeding started. At first, I chalked it up to the stress of graduate school, but when the issues continued, I made an appointment to see my gynecologist. Dr. Casanova's office (yes, that was his real name) called me at work with the news that I had Chlamydia. Thankfully, Chlamydia is a curable STD. Let me qualify: The physical symptoms are curable. The emotional after-effects of being infected with an STD by your husband last years after the antibiotics have killed any bacteria.
I sat in my office, mouth agape, as I asked the doctor's office to explain again my diagnosis. Was it possible that I had been infected prior to my marriage, more than three years ago? No. Was it possible that I could have contracted it from some public place, like a restroom? No. The facts were these: I had been in what I thought was a committed relationship for more than seven years (three of those married), and during that time, the man I was committed to had exposed me to an STD.
We've Got Something We Need to Talk About
Rob arrived home from work to find me waiting at the kitchen table that evening. "We've got something we need to talk about," I said quietly.
"What?" the abrupt response.
As I told him the news from the doctor's office that day, he looked at me without flinching and said, "So who have you been screwing around with, because I don't have any disease!"
I'm quite sure it would have stung less to have him punch me in the face than to hear those words. Rob was the only man with whom I'd ever had sexual intercourse. Within a matter of hours, I'd been forced to face the fact that not only was that not true for him during the course of our marriage, but that he was going to try to blame me for this.
For once, I got angry. Furious. When he realized that I was not about to accept that, he made his way back to our bedroom. Still sitting at the kitchen table, crying quietly now, I heard a distinct noise. Sprinting back to the bedroom, I found him sitting on the side of the bed with a gun, cocked, against his temple. Tearfully, Rob admitted that he was the one who'd had the affair but swore that it had been a one-night stand. (I've never understood how that was supposed to make it better, even if I'd believed—even then—that it was the truth.)
Within a matter of weeks, he was battling an issue that appeared to be cancer of the lymph nodes, and I retreated fully into co-dependent, nursing role. Following surgery, recovery, and a good prognosis, we decided to reconcile. We traveled to Las Vegas on our wedding anniversary and renewed our vows at Graceland Wedding Chapel with an officiant who was dressed as Elvis. (Yes, really...) Life leveled out and stayed on what seemed to be a pretty even keel until I became pregnant with our son.
The Reader's Digest version of the story is this: With Austin's birth came Rob's jealousies for my time and attention and the old drinking behaviors. Within two years, he was staying out again, and all of the red flags were back about extramarital flings. This time, however, things were worse. He now became obsessed with the idea that I was having affairs, that men were hitting on me, that I was looking for a reason to leave him. After 12 years of marriage, and another failed attempt at marriage counseling and reconciliation, I came to the conclusion that the only thing I could do was divorce. The terror and difficulty of those times have been discussed in other blog posts, but the last straw came one night when he broke into the house, and I thought he would kill us both.
The Ghost of Terror Past
Flash forward seven years and an emotional and spiritual lifetime. Here's why I'm sharing this ancient history with you. Because, to my dismay, the feelings of those memories are not quite so ancient. Surprise (and not a good one)!
"John" and I have been developing a friendship for a little over a month now. I really like him and respect him. He's kind, brilliant, and gentlemanly with a dry wit. I enjoy time spent with him, and I can imagine us developing a lifelong friendship—or more.
We've now been out as friends on several occasions, and we often text late into the night just sharing life with each other. In all regards, physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual, it would be impossible for him to be any more different from Rob.
Last week, I was on a family vacation to Mexico for the week. I returned Sunday afternoon, and that evening and the next, we resumed our routine of texting late into the night. Tuesday was my first day back to work, and celebrating the end of the day, I sent him a text to proclaim that I'd survived and to inquire about his day. No response.
As the evening progressed, I started to feel a spiritual heaviness for him (not relating to the two of us but to him particularly). I've been given the gift of intercessory prayer so it's not unusual for me to begin to feel a real burden for someone. By nine that evening, I was so concerned that I sent him an encouraging email and pasted in one of my blog posts (about God bringing life to the dead areas in our lives) as a pick-me-up. No response.
By the next afternoon, the old panic was back. I sent another text—with a funny, light tone—asking him to let me know that he was okay. No response. Thirty minutes later, I called and left a short voice mail, expressing the same concern and request. No response. The fear that began to grip me was distracting. "John" lives by himself. While he's in good general health, he does have high blood pressure. What if something had happened? What if he was hurt or injured and there was no one there to help?
Suddenly all of the old scripts began to play in my head. He's off with another woman. He's drunk somewhere or in trouble with the law. (Rob had three DUIs in an 8-year span.) I had absolutely no reason to think any of these things. He's not had any behaviors to indicate that he would do these sorts of things. The reality was, here were old hurts for which I still need to receive healing. Ouch!
Let's Get Real
Around six o-clock that evening, "John" texted to let me know that he was out of town working in Pensacola. He had received my Facebook message and "had no time to process and respond." He apologized and wished me well for the day. Of course, he had mentioned to me on Monday that he was trying to pull a work trip together to the Panhandle. This was not his issue. It was mine.
As I related this to a Christian girlfriend of mine, she reminded me of one of the passages that God keeps bringing to mind in this process: "Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things" (Phillipians 4:8, NIV).
As this relationship develops, time and again, I've had to remember these two things:
(1) Satan is a liar, the father of all lies, and there is no truth in him. Of course, he'd like nothing better than to destroy a beautiful friendship with fear and doubt.
(2) God is faithful. I don't trust myself to make relationship decisions yet, and I don't know "John" well enough to trust him. But I do trust God to lead me where I should go in this, to speak to me about His will for me, and to work all things together for my good.
Who would have thought that receiving the very thing you've been waiting on for seven years might demand more faith than the wait itself. Thankfully, God is with me—and you—every step of the way!
"No," I fervently protested. "That's just not like him not to call." I was only 19 or 20 at the time and didn't realize then all of the scared, lonely nights that lay before me. The reality was that he was out with friends having a good time that night and had not thought to call. In the years to come, it became "my" issue. Didn't I know better than to think he was dead in a ditch somewhere?
Over time, the problem escalated to the point that despite my worry for him, I did believe that it was more likely than not that he would make it home sometime late into the night, extremely intoxicated and not in the least sorry for the concern that he had caused. As the years went by, my fear was slowly replaced by anger and bitterness that were kept at bay on all but the worst nights when he'd come home drunk and amorous and not wanting to accept no for an answer.
This came to an abrupt end three years into our marriage with a phone call I received in the middle of a sunny, hot Texas afternoon. "Ask your husband about Diane," was the first thing the anonymous caller said.
"What?"
"Ask your husband who he was with last night."
"Who are you and why are you calling here?"
"Because I think you should know that your husband was out with Diane all night."
I stood there shocked and appalled as the caller hung up. In the midst of all my previous feelings of fear and anger, it had never occurred to me that Rob would actually be out with another woman. I know that sounds naive, but despite any other issues, we were really good friends who enjoyed each other's company and an active, adventurous sex life. What reason would he possibly have for stepping out with someone else?
When Rob returned home that evening, he answered my questions with, "Don't be ridiculous. I may have been dancing with girls at the club last night, but I wasn't out with anyone." Pressed further, my fears were deemed "crazy," and I was warned not to become one of "those controlling, obsessive wives."
To my credit, the latest escalation was enough to make me demand we go to marriage counseling. It was a grueling, weekly process with each session ending in a near-migraine headache. Rob stood his ground. He was not having, nor had he ever had, an affair.
Life-Changing Phone Call
After nearly six months in marriage counseling and sober, responsible, repentant behavior on Rob's part, I came to the conclusion that we were ready to phase out of the counseling. There hadn't been any more anonymous calls, unexplained debit charges, or late nights out. Rob was as attentive as he had been when we first started dating.
And then the break-through bleeding started. At first, I chalked it up to the stress of graduate school, but when the issues continued, I made an appointment to see my gynecologist. Dr. Casanova's office (yes, that was his real name) called me at work with the news that I had Chlamydia. Thankfully, Chlamydia is a curable STD. Let me qualify: The physical symptoms are curable. The emotional after-effects of being infected with an STD by your husband last years after the antibiotics have killed any bacteria.
I sat in my office, mouth agape, as I asked the doctor's office to explain again my diagnosis. Was it possible that I had been infected prior to my marriage, more than three years ago? No. Was it possible that I could have contracted it from some public place, like a restroom? No. The facts were these: I had been in what I thought was a committed relationship for more than seven years (three of those married), and during that time, the man I was committed to had exposed me to an STD.
We've Got Something We Need to Talk About
Rob arrived home from work to find me waiting at the kitchen table that evening. "We've got something we need to talk about," I said quietly.
"What?" the abrupt response.
As I told him the news from the doctor's office that day, he looked at me without flinching and said, "So who have you been screwing around with, because I don't have any disease!"
I'm quite sure it would have stung less to have him punch me in the face than to hear those words. Rob was the only man with whom I'd ever had sexual intercourse. Within a matter of hours, I'd been forced to face the fact that not only was that not true for him during the course of our marriage, but that he was going to try to blame me for this.
For once, I got angry. Furious. When he realized that I was not about to accept that, he made his way back to our bedroom. Still sitting at the kitchen table, crying quietly now, I heard a distinct noise. Sprinting back to the bedroom, I found him sitting on the side of the bed with a gun, cocked, against his temple. Tearfully, Rob admitted that he was the one who'd had the affair but swore that it had been a one-night stand. (I've never understood how that was supposed to make it better, even if I'd believed—even then—that it was the truth.)
Within a matter of weeks, he was battling an issue that appeared to be cancer of the lymph nodes, and I retreated fully into co-dependent, nursing role. Following surgery, recovery, and a good prognosis, we decided to reconcile. We traveled to Las Vegas on our wedding anniversary and renewed our vows at Graceland Wedding Chapel with an officiant who was dressed as Elvis. (Yes, really...) Life leveled out and stayed on what seemed to be a pretty even keel until I became pregnant with our son.
The Reader's Digest version of the story is this: With Austin's birth came Rob's jealousies for my time and attention and the old drinking behaviors. Within two years, he was staying out again, and all of the red flags were back about extramarital flings. This time, however, things were worse. He now became obsessed with the idea that I was having affairs, that men were hitting on me, that I was looking for a reason to leave him. After 12 years of marriage, and another failed attempt at marriage counseling and reconciliation, I came to the conclusion that the only thing I could do was divorce. The terror and difficulty of those times have been discussed in other blog posts, but the last straw came one night when he broke into the house, and I thought he would kill us both.
The Ghost of Terror Past
Flash forward seven years and an emotional and spiritual lifetime. Here's why I'm sharing this ancient history with you. Because, to my dismay, the feelings of those memories are not quite so ancient. Surprise (and not a good one)!
"John" and I have been developing a friendship for a little over a month now. I really like him and respect him. He's kind, brilliant, and gentlemanly with a dry wit. I enjoy time spent with him, and I can imagine us developing a lifelong friendship—or more.
We've now been out as friends on several occasions, and we often text late into the night just sharing life with each other. In all regards, physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual, it would be impossible for him to be any more different from Rob.
Last week, I was on a family vacation to Mexico for the week. I returned Sunday afternoon, and that evening and the next, we resumed our routine of texting late into the night. Tuesday was my first day back to work, and celebrating the end of the day, I sent him a text to proclaim that I'd survived and to inquire about his day. No response.
As the evening progressed, I started to feel a spiritual heaviness for him (not relating to the two of us but to him particularly). I've been given the gift of intercessory prayer so it's not unusual for me to begin to feel a real burden for someone. By nine that evening, I was so concerned that I sent him an encouraging email and pasted in one of my blog posts (about God bringing life to the dead areas in our lives) as a pick-me-up. No response.
By the next afternoon, the old panic was back. I sent another text—with a funny, light tone—asking him to let me know that he was okay. No response. Thirty minutes later, I called and left a short voice mail, expressing the same concern and request. No response. The fear that began to grip me was distracting. "John" lives by himself. While he's in good general health, he does have high blood pressure. What if something had happened? What if he was hurt or injured and there was no one there to help?
Suddenly all of the old scripts began to play in my head. He's off with another woman. He's drunk somewhere or in trouble with the law. (Rob had three DUIs in an 8-year span.) I had absolutely no reason to think any of these things. He's not had any behaviors to indicate that he would do these sorts of things. The reality was, here were old hurts for which I still need to receive healing. Ouch!
Let's Get Real
Around six o-clock that evening, "John" texted to let me know that he was out of town working in Pensacola. He had received my Facebook message and "had no time to process and respond." He apologized and wished me well for the day. Of course, he had mentioned to me on Monday that he was trying to pull a work trip together to the Panhandle. This was not his issue. It was mine.
As I related this to a Christian girlfriend of mine, she reminded me of one of the passages that God keeps bringing to mind in this process: "Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things" (Phillipians 4:8, NIV).
As this relationship develops, time and again, I've had to remember these two things:
(1) Satan is a liar, the father of all lies, and there is no truth in him. Of course, he'd like nothing better than to destroy a beautiful friendship with fear and doubt.
(2) God is faithful. I don't trust myself to make relationship decisions yet, and I don't know "John" well enough to trust him. But I do trust God to lead me where I should go in this, to speak to me about His will for me, and to work all things together for my good.
Who would have thought that receiving the very thing you've been waiting on for seven years might demand more faith than the wait itself. Thankfully, God is with me—and you—every step of the way!
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