Broad place

I recently got rid of an old stereo system. I'm still shopping around for a new one, and as you can see, I've reserved a spot for the new one (where my old one used to be). I was expecting my cats to adopt the empty spot, but they have completely respected the vacant area. I took this photo a month ago, and they still haven't touched the empty spot. Maybe they know it's off-limits because Mama has something special planned for it.

"My foot stands in an even place; in the congregations I will bless the Lord." (Psalm 126:12)

"He also brought me out into a broad place; He delivered me because He delighted in me." (Psalm 18:19)

This time of year (Christmas and New Year's Eve) is always a natural time for reflection. 2016 will be the year that I turn 40. That will be a monumental occasion indeed.

For me personally, I felt like God told me that this past year (2015) would be like a blank canvas (which gave me hope) and a year of surprises (which made me excited on one hand and apprehensive on the other). I thought 2015 turned out to be a year of surprises indeed:

1) I grew to hate my job (bad surprise)

2) I got a new job which I love (good surprise)

3) my cat got dangerously sick (very bad surprise)

4) my car got pummeled with marble- and pea-size hail out of nowhere (what the heck), but it wasn't damaged at all (thank You, Father!), and all that was just today (seriously)

And the above was just a tiny list of highlights.

For 2016, again for me personally, I feel like God has told me that the coming year will be like a kaleidoscope. There will be a variety of things going on (I think in my heart and also externally with my circumstances), and God will be churning some things around and letting some things come into place in a very cool way. I am definitely looking forward to it.

But in the meantime, I am here in a broad place, kind of like what the psalmists talked about in the Bible, and kind of like that open, vacant spot in my home that is reserved for something special. Here in this broad place, I've been enjoying some rest from (spiritual) war, I'm digging the peace, I'm reflecting on the things that God has done in my life, and I'm more than likely being sharpened in preparation for the upcoming battles. Not that I'm looking for a fight. It's just that, as Eugene Peterson would say, I belong to the God of angel armies. He's got some stuff for me to do.

So, while I've been here reflecting in my broad place, I've noticed some important things:

1) I'm a LOT tougher than I was about 20 years ago. When God changes people, He tends to make them softer and gentler. I think He did that with me, PLUS He made me scary enough to spit nails simultaneously. Check out a photo of me from 1997 when I was a senior in college:

 

Aw, look at that innocent face, that friendly smile, those eyes that say, "Hi, everybody! I love you! Can you please walk all over me today?" Poor kid. Never knew what hit her. Contrast that with a selfie that I took of myself recently.

 

Wow, look at that hardened brow, that absent-yet-present scowl, those eyes that appear to be saying, "Hey, kid, give me all your lunch money," or "I hate everybody in the universe" or "Hey, demon, get your scummy fallen-angel paws away from my sheep whom I love, before I break your twerpy little neck." I hope my eyes are really saying just that last one. (I think perhaps that Goth wannabe/curly-haired Trinity from The Matrix/Mexican-gangster way that I do my hair now adds to the intensity.)

For the record, I get that intense look in my eyes pretty often, and for many different reasons, most of which are harmless; most of the time it's just because I'm thinking too hard. But I do get greeted with a lot of fist bumps instead of handshakes or side-hugs.

If you've followed my blog for the past few years, perhaps you've seen me go through some pretty hard stuff. I think God has been using it to turn me into a dangerously fierce warrior. I'm still learning how to use the weapons He's given me.

For example, a couple of weeks ago one morning, I was eating breakfast, reading the Bible, and minding my own business when a demon manifested itself in my living room. I barely flinched. I was like, "Well, well, well. Who have we here?" The demon was like, "Strife." I rebuked it, but it didn't go away right away. So, I stood to my feet and cornered it properly with some spiritual warfare until it went away. (It's a good thing it did, because strife was the last thing I needed around me that particular day.) Bullying demons is fun, but what's most effective is siccing Jesus and His name at them. My instinct is to charge at them with my human brawn, but what tortures them horrifically is being reminded that Jesus shed His blood on the cross, died in my place, and rose again on the third day. Heh. That'll make 'em scream.

2) I'm a leader. I kind of knew this already (especially since technically every Christian is a leader, whether they want to be or not), but this is something in my life that God has highlighted for me recently. For example, before I sang in the choir at my church last weekend, I prayed and asked God what was on His heart for me that weekend. If I remember correctly, He said, "You're a leader. Just show up and be yourself. If you show up and be yourself, everyone else will show up and be themselves. I need everyone to be themselves." Indeed.

I'm a shepherd. I think that's one reason why God has been toughening me up these past couple of decades. Shepherds in the Bible lived their lives alone while they guarded and took care of their sheep, and they needed to be crazy enough to do things like kill anything (e.g., lions, bears) that attacked their sheep. They laid down their lives for their sheep (like what Jesus said in John 10:15).

That's the part about the Christmas story that touched me this year: When God's Son was born as a baby on this earth, He announced it to the shepherds first. I'm sure I've heard pastors talk about this before, but this year it hit home for me the deepest: God my Shepherd announced His Son's birth to His peeps first.

So, as a leader/shepherd, I need to be careful. People follow my lead when I don't even realize that I'm leading. They copy me. They take their cues from me. They desire my affirmation.

And they challenge me. One thing about being scary enough to spit nails is that, well, I can accidentally scare people. I can be very abrasive very unintentionally. So, I've been learning how to walk in "grace under pressure." I think sometimes people think I'm Google, because they sometimes ask me questions (that I don't know the answer to) that can easily be answered by doing some quick research online. One time somebody asked me a question about something that was completely out of my realm of authority, and then they yelled at me when I told them that I didn't know: "But you're a leader! You're supposed to know!" Um, sorry. All I know is the notes we're supposed to be singing. If you have an administrative question, please allow me to direct you to an administrator who can assist you.

I think I understand why Jesus kept trying to get away from the crowds so that He could be by Himself and pray. Maybe He was like, "Hey, I love you, but I really need to work some stuff out with My Father before I go crazy."

"Therefore be imitators of God as dear children." (Ephesians 5:1)

3) I'm God's child. I've noticed recently that God calls us His children, not His adults. (Even though technically many of us are adults.) Children need an incredible amount of attention and supervision, even if they're old enough to take care of themselves. They think they know everything, when in reality they still have SO much to learn. They're usually either in a hurry to grow up, or they're afraid to mature. If they throw a tantrum, they will make life embarrassingly miserable for everyone around them. And yet they are incredibly endearing, impeccably honest, infinitely precious, and completely vulnerable. They need adults to protect them from all kinds of harm. They have the potential for lightning-speed growth, so you need to give them a steady stream of nurturing. They genuinely want to learn how to live life, so they need someone around them pretty much all the time to guide them, direct them, and teach them how to live life the right way.

And that's how God my Father sees me.

When I'm wandering around His house doing foolish things, throwing tantrums, and strutting around like I own the place, I need to let Him patiently correct me, discipline me, and reroute me to where I need to be. He does it for His name's sake, and He does it because He loves me. I'm infinitely precious to Him, and I need Him to protect me, or I'll be toast.

"For which of you, intending to build a tower, does not sit down first and count the cost, whether he has enough to finish it...?" (Luke 14:28)

4) Towers are expensive. I heard a friend say once that there's a difference between "family" and "relatives." He was completely right. "Family" knows you. "Relatives" only share a gene pool with you.

Years ago, when God told me to leave my parents, and when I finally went through with it, I didn't fully realize to what degree I would truly be leaving my family. Interacting with relatives isn't scary anymore, but it's incredibly awkward. I can't be completely myself, or I will get judged, criticized, and/or stifled. Just like I did with my birth parents, I have to water down my personality anytime I interact with my relatives. I can't talk openly about God with most of them, so I have to kind of speak in Pharisee/religious code. (For example, "At church last weekend where I was worship-shepherding in the choir, I cried while I watched hundreds of people take communion" would translate into something like "At church last weekend, I sang in the choir.") I hate it.

I think I've gotten to the point where I'm used to people thinking the subject of "family" is a safe subject for small talk, so I'm prepared for it. And I think I've become an expert at changing the subject. Have I told you lately how much I love my kitties? Also, honestly, people are so willing to talk about themselves that they'll let me ask them about their "family," and they'll be quite eager to reply and completely forget about my vague answer to their "family" question. Sneaky chuckle.

I'm not quite sure that God would have expected me to count this much detail along with my tower-building cost. But it's worth it. Oh, my gosh, it's so worth it.

5) I've decided to not get a tattoo after all. Perhaps you remember reading this post from last year where I explained why I was seriously considering getting a Psalm-91-inspired tattoo. The lion and the cobra in verse 13 would have symbolized depression and lust -- two things that I have or will have battled and won (depression beaten, lust still fighting). It would have been an awesome 40th birthday present to myself.

But now I have an awesome job (truly the classiest gig I've ever had) that has a dress code that might not mesh well with that harsh of a tatt. Also, frankly, I'm quite nerdy and potentially allergic to almost anything, and I wouldn't want to take a chance of having some kind of bad reaction to getting my first tattoo. (Maybe I've been watching too many episodes of The People's Court?)

And I was thinking about the tattoo idea recently and talking to God about it, and I was like, "But the lion and the cobra would symbolize me beating those two things." And God was like, "Why stop at two?"

I know, right?

So, no tattoo. I think I look scary enough without one. And I would eventually need to cover myself in ink to tell everybody about everything that God has done with me.

You hear that, 2016? You have endless possibilities, because you're in the infinitely capable hands of my Father who loves me, has a plan for me, and is guiding me every step of the way. I'm ready. Bring it!

Goodbye, dream; hello, dream

I need to warn you about this post. I'm going to write about the menstrual cycle. If you feel the need to skip reading this post, I won't be offended. (However, if you feel the need to lecture me about talking about this type of thing in mixed company, I'll be pretty darn offended.) I'll try to not get too personal or too graphic, and I definitely won't include any photos. (Sorry.) Also, I'm not a medical professional or an ordained minister. But I am a woman. And I'm going to gush-ramble for a little bit.

About once a month, I spend a little time hating Eve (the first woman, the one who influenced Adam to sin, the one who ruined everything for every woman who came after her and for all of humanity). This may sound terrible, but I hope Eve isn't in heaven, because if she is, I think I'm going to kick her butt when I meet her. Really hard. Or maybe Jesus will host field trips to hell so that every female citizen of heaven can take turns punching Eve in the jaw. Really hard.

The menstrual cycle is a really, really, really big deal to a woman. It ends up controlling many of her everyday decisions. Her entire month could end up revolving around it. I myself need to keep ibuprofen and chocolate handy for the week leading up to it, and I need to keep feminine napkins and lots of toilet paper handy for the week during my period.

Because eventually, it's going to happen.

If a woman doesn't get her period every month, she's either pregnant or something is wrong with her health. Any young woman who has never had a period by a certain age might need surgery to correct the problem. Any woman (like the one in Matthew 9:20-22) who gets a period that never stops will either need surgery or a miracle to correct the problem. I once knew a girl who was anorexic in junior high, and she stopped getting her period while she had her eating disorder. After she came to her senses and started eating again, her period didn't come back again on its own until she was in college. I've heard stories of some women who have very painful, irregular periods; in these cases, doctors often prescribe birth control pills because they cause women's bodies to have light, regular periods.

Speaking for myself, if I am very stressed out, I will skip my period that month. That is actually what happened to me last month... so this month's period is particularly heavy. (Hence the inspiration for the writing of this post.) Yay, I get to skip a period, right? Wrong. Try having PMS for a month. Yeah, I know.

In cases like that, finally getting my period is a relief... and yet simultaneously, it's like an unwelcomed guest in my life. To me, having a period is the most disgusting thing about being a woman (which is an otherwise wonderful thing to be). Once a month, blood very gradually gushes out of a major body cavity and threatens to stain everything you wear and/or sit on unless you take the proper precautions. It takes some serious skill and finesse to live with your period and even to hide it from other people. It's a slimy, sweaty, stinky, gross process. There's no stopping it once it starts; you just need to wait 5-10 days and let nature take its course. Thanks a lot, Eve.

Actually, when I attempted suicide 15 years ago, I was on my period, but it stopped suddenly while I was in the psych hospital. I guess a traumatic experience will do the trick.

As if having your period weren't already traumatic enough. In my 26 years of having periods, the worst experience I ever had was when I was about 16 years old. I was with my family at a Baptist camp, and I was inadequately prepared for my monthly visitor. I had an accident, and my birth mother drove me back to our motel room for a change of clothes, etc. During the process, I accidentally locked us out of our room; while I was getting a spare key from the motel office, my mother threw her back out while she was lugging our ice chest out of our car. She was bedridden for pretty much the rest of the week at camp, and she blamed me for it. (There is so much wrong with this story... because I was being shamed on top of being embarrassed... and I didn't force her to retrieve the ice chest which we didn't have an immediate need for... while we were being total snobs who didn't sleep in tents or dorms like everybody else at camp. Yes, I was pretty much raised by wolves.)

But if you're a woman, unless you have extenuating circumstances, you're going to get a period every month.

I don't think it's an accident that God created the menstrual process to be a weeklong, very gradual process. It would be enormously inconvenient and embarrassing if my body were to suddenly eject a never-born infant's blood supply in one huge gush. Now that I think about it, I'm kind of glad God makes it last several days. (I mean, my body isn't a computer. I don't get like a pop-up flash across my eyeballs or anything like that: "Countdown to monthly ejection in 10... 9... 8...")

God knew this. The menstrual cycle shows up in random places in the Bible, from the woman with the issue of blood to Rachel lying about being on her period while she was hiding some idols (see Genesis 31:34-35). God gave Old Testament laws about what to do and not to do during and after a menstrual cycle. I read an article online once that was written by a Jewish woman who, from what I understand, still does the ceremonial cleansing that God ordained in the Bible. If I remember correctly, she said that the ceremony is a beautiful thing that represents the loss of the baby that will never be born -- of a life that will never be.

And that leads me to the point of this entire post. God showed me recently that the menstrual cycle is basically the monthly death of a dream.

This totally makes sense. The death of a dream can be a very gradual, messy process as well. (Some dreams can die very suddenly, but the grieving process can be gradual and messy.)

"Trust in Him at all times, you people; pour out your heart before Him; God is a refuge for us. Selah." (Psalm 62:8)

"Keep your heart with all diligence, for out of it spring the issues of life." (Proverbs 4:23)

"Most assuredly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it produces much grain." (John 12:24)

All of us have something that God designed for our future -- a purpose, a calling, a destiny. Oftentimes that something (or somethings) starts out as a dream. That dream germinates, is cultivated, and grows -- sometimes for a very long time -- until it is finally realized.

But other times, a dream will die permanently.

Sometimes you know it's coming; sometimes you can brace yourself for the gory process. But other times, the death of your dream will take you by surprise, and you feel very ill-prepared, disoriented, and humiliated. Still other times, the people around you who were supposed to support you during your grieving process end up hurting you during your crisis.

There isn't anything gentlemanly or discreet about grief at all. By its very nature, grief is an unavoidable monster that is best handled by allowing it to take its course. If the process makes you uncomfortable or if you do anything to try to stifle it, you could severely harm yourself.

But the best way to let grief take its course is by crying into the bosom of your Creator. When your dream dies, you'll have a giant hole in your heart; what was once alive will be gushing out of you in ways that you might not be able to control. The entire process will be messy and terrible, but it will be beautiful.

You think it doesn't hurt when your dream dies? Heh. Let me share just a couple of my personal examples with you.

I used to want to be a novelist. This dream of mine has died twice, and it was God's idea both times. The first time, He told me to just lay it down; that was 16 years ago, and I was dangerously mad at Him. Then He rekindled the dream inside me about 5 years ago. Then about 3 years ago, He told me to let it die so that I could learn how to cultivate a dream; thankfully I'm not mad at Him anymore, and the new dream is way cooler (now I want to be a worship pastor, which is a calling that He hadn't told me anything about until a few years ago).

But while I had been cultivating my novelist dream, and while I had been watching it gradually die, I encountered all kinds of heartache related to it. I started a novel a couple of times, but it never got off the ground. I wrote several short stories, but none of them sold to any magazines I had submitted them to. I even wrote a play, but nobody bought it (and it stank). Meanwhile, I had moved back in with my birth parents (wolves), and I tried to write, but I was constantly distracted (no, thank you, I don't want to watch another useless made-for-TV movie), and then they wondered why I wasn't writing.

Years after I permanently ventured out on my own, I can see how God's vision for my writing skills reached far beyond what any stupid novels could accomplish. I hope Windowbrawl has helped people connect with Him (in addition to being therapy for me).

But the process of letting that dream die (both times) was rather painful. You think it's easy to get fired from a writing job? You think it's easy feeling like a screw-up? You think it's easy to earn a college degree in writing, only to watch people with terrible grammar, language, and communication skills get their work published instead? Yeah, I know.

Here's another dead dream: I used to want to get married. This dream took a really, really, really long time to die, because getting married is a really big deal (especially to a woman). Actually, I think this particular dream is still in the gradual, gory, gross process of dying. I have felt little painful squirts here and there from time to time, sometimes with little warning or preparation. Letting it run its course has downright stunk.

You think it's been a picnic to go 21 years without a date? You think it's been wonderful to allow your heart to develop feelings for somebody, only to watch him pursue other women instead? You think it's been easy to watch your friends marry guys who you used to have a crush on? (That's happened to me at least twice.) You think it's been flattering to practically throw yourself at men who end up registering on match.com instead, or who end up whining on Facebook about their singlehood, or who end up just ignoring you altogether? Yeah, I know. Sometimes I feel like a useless container for ovaries. (And I'm very surprised that I haven't punched every member of the male species in the jaw. Really hard.)

You think it's easy to pray for a husband and for God to be silent? You think it's easy to hear Him finally start talking to you, when He tells you that you're not going to have a husband? You think it's easy to hear people preach at you about God giving you the desires of your heart?

Of course it isn't easy. They have no idea what kind of storms have raged inside your heart. They have no idea that something has already been in the process of dying inside your heart and that it's about to gradually flow out of your heart forever. They have no idea how painful it will be for you to let that death run its course. They have no idea how God wants to use your pain to make you stronger, help other people, draw you closer to Himself, and hopefully earn you some sweet rewards in heaven someday. (Not counting getting to kick the crap out of Eve.)

Only God knows.

He is the best Person to grieve with. His bosom is the best place to express the angst that builds up right before, during, and after the death of another dream. Sometimes He's the only One capable of saying anything that actually encourages you while you're hurting. And He's definitely the Expert at rebuilding old dreams and creating new dreams.

"The Lord builds up Jerusalem; He gathers together the outcasts of Israel. He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds." (Psalm 147:2-3)

Living alone with two cats isn't the kind of life that I would have chosen for myself when I was fresh out of high school or college, but I'll take it. God told me a long time ago that my independence was a gift from Him, and I think I understand now what He meant by that. I don't think I would have time to cultivate my new dreams if I were too busy trying to rescue the old ones. I don't think I would have had time to spend 16-17 hours at church this past weekend if I had either 1) a novel to finish writing and/or 2) a husband and children to clean up after. Honestly, I'm very thankful that my teenage cats are still alive, and I'm glad they support my current life pursuits by just napping and being themselves.

I almost wonder if perhaps God planted the seeds of my current life inside me when I was a kid. I used to play/pretend that I lived all by myself in an apartment where I had everything I needed. And when I was even younger than that, I had a kitten whom I referred to as "my son."

But while I'm letting my dreams die, and while I'm learning how to cultivate new dreams, I'm going to hold on to God as tightly as I can, and I'm going to let Him hold on to me. I think in addition to being the Expert dream-builder, He Himself is also the ultimate Expert at letting dreams die. From what I understand, Adam and Eve were God's dream to populate the earth with little human expressions of Himself. But they royally messed up that dream for God and for us.

So, God created a new dream: to repopulate the earth with redeemed human expressions of Himself. That dream grew over the centuries, and it finally came true when His Son Jesus came to earth, died, and rose again. And God's new dream comes true every time somebody gives their heart to Him for the very first time.

For a woman, being on her period is a very awkward time of the month. But it's worth pushing through the awkwardness because she knows that without this natural process, she couldn't reproduce herself. Similarly, letting your dream die is a painfully terrible process that possibly only you and God will understand. But it's worth pushing through it because without this process, you might not be able to make room in your life for the tailor-made dream that God has for you. And you could get to know God at a deeper level than ever before.

Maybe someday, Jesus will host a field trip to hell where He'll let me punch the devil in the crotch. Really hard.

Hovering

Recently, several friends of mine got engaged. Sure, I might be just a tiny bit jealous. But I am happy for them. An engagement is a major reason for celebration. But to be completely honest, it can be pretty obnoxious if you're just on the outside looking in at somebody else's happiness. It isn't uncommon for me to unfollow someone on Facebook (hide them from my Newsfeed) while they are engaged. Usually they stop throwing every tiny little milestone in your face a few months after the wedding. OK, YOU'RE IN LOVE! I GET IT!!

Please understand that I really do rejoice with dating/engaged/newlywed people. I also hope that you can understand that anyone on social media has the right to see/not see or post/not post whatever they want. (I'm sure any readers who have hidden my ranting status updates from their Newsfeed (or unfriended me altogether) can vouch for the fact that I can be pretty obnoxious, too.)

Years ago, long before social media went mainstream, I knew an engaged couple that was pretty much joined at the hip before they got married. While they were dating/engaged, they were inseparable, and they held hands constantly. After they got married, they were all over each other, right? Wrong. After the wedding, they would walk a couple of feet apart from each other and wouldn't even hold hands. As far as I know, they are still married today, and I don't think they had any marital problems at the beginning of their marriage. But it was like... so, you two finally got a room, and now it's all out of your system? What was up with all that anti-climatic stuff?

The purpose of my rant is to build up to an analogy, of course.

"I know your works, that you are neither cold nor hot. I could wish you were cold or hot. So then, because you are lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will vomit you out of My mouth." (Revelation 3:15-16)

"I know your works, your labor, your patience, and that you cannot bear those who are evil. And you have tested those who say they are apostles and are not, and have found them liars; and you have persevered and have patience, and have labored for My name's sake and have not become weary. Nevertheless I have this against you, that you have left your first love." (Revelation 2:2-4)

Many years ago, I heard a guy preach a sermon about "first love." He said that when he was dating his wife, he was crazy about her. One time, he dropped to his knees in the middle of their high-school hallway, and he serenaded/belted out the song "You Are So Beautiful" to her, totally embarrassing her but totally expressing how he really felt. "That was first love!" he explained to us during his sermon. Years after they got married, he said that he would lazily lounge in their living room and groggily ask his wife to bring him something to drink. The romance was gone... perhaps very much in the same way that the "hot"ness is too quick to leave many of our relationships with Christ.

Speaking of preachers, I've noticed that many of them nowadays hate cats. I think this is unfortunate, because you can definitely learn a lot about God's character by observing felines. Anytime I hear a pastor or church teacher compare God to a feline, he/she has my attention. I mean, Jesus is the Lion of Judah, right?

I consider myself extremely blessed to own two extremely adorable cats who have taught me a lot about how God sees me, how He treats me, and how He wants me to treat Him.

For example, one thing that I've seen my cats do is hover. They don't just show up on your lap and neatly sit down like civilized humans. They hover. In fact, I decided to snap a computer photo of Choochie hovering over my arm while I was typing just now.

 

Why do felines do this? I'm not exactly sure, but I think -- as one observant pastor pointed out once -- it's because cats are territorial. I think perhaps felines hover as a way of claiming their territory before they finally settle into it...

...as Choochie did right before she finally settled in front of my computer.

This hovering characteristic of felines reminds me of Someone I know.

"In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. The earth was without form, and void; and darkness was on the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters." (Genesis 1:1-2)

"For the eyes of the Lord run to and fro throughout the whole earth, to show Himself strong on behalf of those whose heart is loyal to Him..." (2 Chronicles 16:9a)

And, of course, there is a copycat loser who also tries to act like God.

"Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil walks about like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour." (1 Peter 5:8)

While I was trying to write this post, my cats competed for the snuggle territory near my lap.

 

Choochie won, of course.

Macho may be twice her size, but you can't deny a feisty little puma that spot between her mama's shoulders.

Regarding our relationship with God, different things in this world and in our lives come between Him and us, and they compete for our affections all the time. Jesus knew all about this.

"When anyone hears the word of the kingdom, and does not understand it, then the wicked one comes and snatches away what was sown in his heart. This is he who received seed by the wayside. But he who received the seed on stony places, this is he who hears the word and immediately receives it with joy; yet he has no root in himself, but endures only for a while. For when tribulation or persecution arises because of the word, immediately he stumbles. Now he who received seed among the thorns is he who hears the word, and the cares of this world and the deceitfulness of riches choke the word, and he becomes unfruitful." (Matthew 13:19-22)

From what I understand, an engagement can be a very critical, delicate time in a couple's relationship. The relationship can break up permanently during the engagement period. I've seen people's hearts get terribly broken during an engagement.

And yet -- contrary to that strange joined-at-the-hip couple that I mentioned previously -- an engagement can be a precious precursor to a wonderful marriage. Thankfully, I've seen couples become joined at the hip AFTER the wedding, which makes more sense to me.

Anytime anyone walks away from God, He hurts. And anytime anyone grows closer to Him as they stick by Him through the years, well... they become more like family to Him than ever before.

As for me, my relationship with God doesn't get "hot" when I try to be as distant from Him or as polite to Him as I can. It gets "hot" when I plunge into everything He has for me, when I throw myself at Him, when I believe that He is who He says He is... when I try to treat Him the way He wants me to treat Him, and when I let Him treat me the way He wants to treat me. Even if nobody else understands our relationship.

Thanksgiving was just a few days ago. As you probably know, I don't cook. (At least, not anymore.) I hate cooking. I hate spending time in the kitchen preparing the food, and I despise having to clean up for myself afterwards. I find no joy in taking an hour or more to cook something that only takes a few minutes to eat.

But I'm not like everybody else. Many people love cooking. They tremendously respect the culinary arts, and they take great delight in preparing food and, especially, in serving it to others and letting them enjoy it. For these cooks, the joy is in the preparation.

Before Jesus left this earth, He told His disciples that He was going to prepare a place for us. I've heard pastors preach about how in many ways, we're engaged to Jesus. After all, we're the Bride of Christ, and one day in heaven, we the Bride will be presented to our Bridegroom. I think all of this stuff we've been going through on this earth has been preparation for living the rest of our lives with Jesus in heaven as His Bride. I think for Him, the joy is in the preparation.

But before the Lion of the tribe of Judah settles down with us in His rightful territory, I think He's going to hover. Which spot is rightfully His? Where are His affections wanted? Where is He welcome?

I think to a degree, we the Church need to fixate our affections on our First Love so obsessively and so thoroughly that the world will scream at us, OK, YOU'RE IN LOVE WITH GOD! WE GET IT!! Hopefully not in an obnoxious way -- hopefully in a way that the world will want what we have... that they will want to join us and let the King hover over them and settle with them as well.

Why stay on the outside looking in at somebody else's happiness? Come on. You know you want Him.

For His name's sake

I've had the idea for this post in my head for a while, but my pastor's sermon this weekend -- as well as my life's events today -- solidified it even further. And in case you're reading this and wondering, "Why is she making such a big deal about getting a flat tire?" that's just how I am. And I also wanted to glorify Somebody's name. Please allow me to explain...

In my life, anytime anyone mentions the concept of "family" or talks about praying for your "family," etc., etc., etc., I think about these two little felines who beg me to feed them several times a day. My two cats and that small spot on my couch where I have DVD marathons, watch YouTube videos, and play video games -- that is "family" to me.

And Somebody else considers me to be His "family" as well.

"When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take care of me." (Psalm 27:10)

I've known for a while that I need to buy new tires for my car, but I thought my current tires would last me for at least a couple more weeks. I think the road trip I took yesterday finally wore them out, because one of them got flat this morning while I was driving to the grocery store. At first, I thought the low-tire-pressure light on my car just meant that I needed to put some air in one of my tires, so I squeaked over to the gas-pump area of the store. But the tire in question had a nice little tear in it. I called a couple of trusted friends to ask for their help, but of course they didn't answer because it was 10:30 a.m. on a Sunday. I mean, that's church-and-family time all across America.

So, I whipped out the owner's manual for my car and located the section that explains how to change a flat tire. I had never done this before. (The only other time in my life when I had a flat tire was many years ago when I was driving a different car that happened to be hissing air when I happened to be meeting some friends who happened to take care of it for me.) I compared what I read in my owner's manual with what I saw on my wheel. It seemed way too complicated (as does anything that is over-intellectualized), so I went inside my car and regrouped.

This was one of those life-crises that turns an I-have-it-all-together woman into a freaked-out little girl. I prayed and told God I was scared. He told me to go for it, and He said we could bond over this situation.

So, I carefully drove my car to a wide-open empty section of the parking lot, honestly so that any passersby could easily identify me as a damsel in distress. My strategy worked. As soon as I had removed my spare tire and its accessories from my trunk and had set them on the ground, a vehicle pulled up beside me. A married couple (who I later gathered were empty-nesters) asked me if I needed help. I replied yes and, with my car's owner's manual in my hand, explained that I had never done this before. They laughed, and the man exited his vehicle. He said, "This is where I failed as a dad," and while he jacked up my car and removed my flat tire, he taught me how to do it myself if I ever needed to in the future.

Well, sir, where you perceive that you failed in your past, I believe you succeeded with me.

They cheerfully acted as if helping out a perfect stranger was a normal thing. It was as if they had done it before. After the man installed my spare tire, he asked his wife to drive their vehicle since his hands were greasy. As I re-parked my car, I thought about a quote from the Sense and Sensibility movie: "The unkindness of your family makes you astonished to find friendship elsewhere." I went inside the store and proceeded to shop for groceries, and I saw the Good Samaritan couple from across the building. I avoided them because I knew that if I were to talk to them again, I would bawl like a baby.

A short time later, I drove to a safe place to cry -- church. The parking-lot attendant picked me up on his golf cart and drove me straight to the front door. The worship team happened to be singing the song "Good Good Father" when I walked in, my church happened to serve communion that day, and my pastor happened to preach about God's Father-heart. I was so overwhelmed with the way that God took care of me today -- the way, place, and manner in which my tire became flat and temporarily replaced -- that I ugly-cried off and on. Actually, I'm still choking up as I type this.

"He restores my soul; He leads me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake." (Psalm 23:3)

"A good name is to be chosen rather than great riches, loving favor rather than silver and gold." (Proverbs 22:1)

When I was much younger, my birth mother would kinda give me a hard time about the way I looked, the way I would dress, and they way I would do my hair. She was a hair stylist, so she had a beauty-quality reputation to uphold. Anytime I would fail to live up to her standards of appearance, she would say that I was making her look bad. Well, excuse me for not inheriting your glamour genes, Miss America.

Speaking of glamorous -- in case you're a new reader to my blog -- growing up in a Pharisee's house was a terrible experience. Helping motorists in distress wasn't normal. Criticizing everybody for everything was normal. Putting down everybody else's family because you believed that your family-raising skills were superior was normal. Always wanting to be better than everybody else was normal. Patronizing people was normal. Pride was normal. Shame was normal. Fear was normal. Inviting God into every little detail of your life was unheard of.

So, the concept of having "a good name" is something that God has had to rewire, repair, and heal for me.

Sometimes if I'm feeling condemned or guilty about working through an issue, or if I'm apologizing to God about working through something, He reminds me that He leads me in paths of righteousness for HIS name's sake. He reminds me that working through my issues is more important to Him than it is to me, that my safety is more important to Him than it is to me... that my life is more important to Him than it is to me.

As for the people who I used to claim as my family, their opinions of me seem drastically different than God's opinion of me. "You're not polished," He told me recently. "You're rough around the edges. That's how I designed you."

So there. And that's worked for me.

You can say what you want about the institution of marriage and how it needs to be redefined by the demands of today's culture, but I say it doesn't need to be redefined at all because God knew exactly what He was doing when He designed it, and He knew that it would work. He knew that someday, a traditionally married couple would cross paths with a rough-around-the-edges frightened woman who needed them. He knew that their union was solid enough to temporarily support her through a mini life-crisis.

You can say what you want about the institution of church and how it is unnecessary to participate in an antiquated tradition in today's culture, but I say it's still relevant today because God knew exactly what He was doing when He designed it, and He knew that it would work. He knew that someday, an I-have-it-all-together woman who temporarily became a freaked-out little girl would need that institution to be there for her one afternoon like a trusty, well-oiled machine. He knew that its faithful weekly presence would be the exact safety net she would need for her Father to catch her in His arms and gently rock her to comfort her.

You can say what you want about me and how I might make you look bad, but I say I'm created in the image of my Father who knew exactly what He was doing when He designed me, and He knew what would work for me. He knew that someday, all those trials He allowed me to experience and all those metaphorical slaps in the face that He allowed me to endure would cause me to rise up and metaphorically scream, "GOD IS REAL!" to anyone who would listen. He knew that I would let Him lead me in paths of righteousness for His name's sake, and He knew that His name would be glorified in the process.

And He knew that I would enjoy bonding with Him in these types of situations. He knew that I would bear His name and be His family.

Knowing the Storm-stiller

"Therefore whoever hears these sayings of Mine, and does them, I will liken him to a wise man who built his house on the rock: and the rain descended, the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house; and it did not fall, for it was founded on the rock." (Jesus talking in Matthew 7:24-25)

"God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble... He makes wars cease to the end of the earth; He breaks the bow and cuts the spear in two; He burns the chariot in the fire." (Psalm 46:1, 9)

With all the crazy weather we've had in my area lately, I've been reminded of how the concept of "storms" is a nifty analogy indeed. (I snapped the above photo in my church's parking lot a few days ago.) Living through a weather storm can be a great way to learn how to survive a life storm.

For example, sometimes the best way to survive a (physical) storm is to just take shelter and stay there. Rainy downpours are merciless, sometimes dangerous, and they won't stop until they're good and ready. Why drench yourself running through the sky-waterfall or kill yourself driving through the floods? Just wait until it lets up a bit before proceeding with caution.

Similarly, if you know that a (life) storm is raging all around you, just find your Shelter (God) and stick with Him. Some circumstances just need time to run their course. Why kill yourself by leaving your Shelter and trying to conquer the trials all by yourself? You won't make it unless you cling to God and follow His directions as closely as possible.

"The prudent see danger and take refuge, but the simple keep going and pay the penalty." (Proverbs 22:3 AND 27:12, NIV)

You can tell a lot about a person by the way they handle a storm. Do they ignore the warning signs, trek through life as if nothing were wrong, and then wonder why their life is falling apart? Do they crumble during a crisis and disappoint the people around them? Or do they look for their Shelter, find help from people they trust, and surf through the storm like a pro? Or do they look for their Daddy's lap and snuggle into it and let Him hold them until the storm is over?

Several years ago, I was visiting my birth parents, and we all went out shopping. Dad was feeling ill, but he finally experienced excruciating pain that brought our excursion to a halt. Unfortunately, I discovered that day that Mom was useless during a crisis. While Mom was driving us home and Dad was literally writhing in pain, I urged her to find a hospital; just turn on the emergency lights and look for a sign with a blue "H." It turned out that Dad had a kidney stone that kept him in the hospital for a couple of days. They complained about not having taken him to a hospital that was closer to the house, but I think perhaps if someone had taken charge of the situation sooner, maybe they could have made a decision sooner in that regard. Why let your circumstances (or the people around you) make your decisions for you?

You can also tell who's close to you by the way they're there for you during your storm. Just as a silly example, I have a relative who lives several hundred miles away, and they always tell me when it's going to rain in Dallas. Uh, thank you, but I don't live in Dallas. They often text me and tell me to be careful because it will be stormy in Dallas... but a frickin' tornado touched down in my suburb earlier this week, and I didn't hear from them at all. I know they love me and have very good intentions, but... uh, thank you. Heh.

Lately, while God has continued to bust my paradigm about "quiet times," He's told me that if I won't hear Him when it's quiet, then I won't hear Him when it's noisy/fiery/stormy. He's my Shelter. He's my Life Source. He's my God. I have to hear Him at all times, especially during the storms, or I'm toast.

I used to have a coworker who visited my church once after I invited her. I had about one or two conversations with her about God, religion, etc. She had been to church in her past, and she said that now she would often experience an "inner peace" that she didn't need a church to help her with. But she told me that she would rather go to hell where all the fun people are. She wasn't joking; she was serious. The more I interacted with her, the more uncomfortable I felt around her. The way in which she conducted her life was ungodly, codependent/irresponsible, and very dishonest. I asked God if I should keep inviting her to church. He basically shrugged His shoulders and said, "She claims she already knows Me." OK, then. Shaking the dust off my feet and moving on.

All the fun people are in hell? What the heck was she talking about?

Until you've danced with God around your living room with an ABBA song on your phone and Psalm 76 on your Bible app, you haven't lived. That is my honest opinion. When I experienced this, Jesus was like, "Jews dance better than Gentiles." (Because Jesus is Jewish. And I'm a Gentile.) Oh, OK. I see how it is. You know the King of Kings is your Friend when He starts zinging you. (Kinda reminded me of all those times that God would dance the tango with me.) Heh.

"And suddenly a great tempest arose on the sea, so that the boat was covered with the waves. But He was asleep. Then His disciples came to Him and awoke Him, saying, 'Lord, save us! We are perishing!' But He said to them, 'Why are you fearful, O you of little faith?' Then He arose and rebuked the winds and the sea, and there was a great calm." (Jesus doing His thang in Matthew 8:24-26)

Sometimes life's "storms" can come at you really quickly, with little or no warning: Your boss is yelling at you, your cat is sick, your emotions are choking your insides to death, you're lonely and depressed, and all your friends are too busy to hang out with you, much less encourage you. Who are you going to turn to?

God my Storm-stiller, of course. He's the only One who's always going to be available to help. He's the only One who's always going to be powerful enough to stop the storm. He's the One who's most qualified to instruct me during the storm, whether He has to whisper or yell the instructions to me over the noise of the winds and the waves. If I don't bond with Him and get to know Him for who He really is (just by being myself and letting Him be Himself), my storms could possibly take me out for good.

God is not useless during a crisis. He is the most important Person you can cling to. And yes, He's fun.

All's fair in love and laundry

Disclaimer: I hope the reader understands that I am not pressuring anyone into embracing a certain theology or becoming exactly like me or anything like that. I mean, this is my blog. This is where I process stuff (the stuff that I'm comfortable sharing publicly on this particular forum). Meanwhile, if reading about my life helps you process what's happening in your life, then glory hallelujah, and mission accomplished. Regardless, thank you in advance for reading.

The title of this post ran through my head while I was at the beautiful coin laundromat this afternoon. For the past (nearly) 3 years, I've lived in a small apartment without a washer or dryer, on purpose, because the rent is cheaper, there isn't any dryer lint to clean, there isn't any electricity or water to use on laundry appliances, and it gets me "out of the house" once a week.

Since I've been doing this for (nearly) 3 years, I should know by now that this is the time of year when everybody comes out of the woodwork to wash their blankets. This wouldn't be a big deal, except that the people who do this usually use about 5 or 6 washers and dryers simultaneously. Sure, it's convenient for the seasonal blanket-washers. But it's inconvenient for us small-apartment people who show up at the beautiful coin laundromat every week just so that we can have clean clothes to wear. Today, I had to wait a fairly long while for some dryers to become available. There were about 5 or 6 dryers that had finished, but the owners of the blankets/clothes were taking their sweet time to claim their garments. (Whenever that would happen in the college laundromats, it was perfectly kosher to empty the finished dryers, set the clean clothes aside in a pile somewhere, and claim the dryer for yourself; however, I don't think that type of thing would fly at the laundromat in da hood.)

So, today, when the laundromat was very crowded, I had to do some sneaky and fancy footwork to wash and dry my clothes, barely beating other people to the open appliances. Next week, I'll try to get there earlier in the afternoon, but this week as I was hanging some of my nicer clothes on my hangers in the parking lot, the phrase "All's fair in love and laundry" ran through my head. I hope the people traveling on the adjacent highway appreciated the fact that I wasn't folding my underwear in the parking lot.

I think my brain got the idea for the abovementioned phrase from an episode of The Cosby Show where Heathcliff steals Rudy's orange juice and justifies his actions by saying, "All's fair in love and breakfast." (She vindicates herself by doing the same thing to him later in the episode.)

Of course, the original saying is "All's fair in love and war." If you were to look up the definition of this original saying, Google would tell you that it means that you do what you gotta do to reach a certain goal. In other words, if you see someone/something you want, go after him/her/it, and don't let anything or anyone stand in your way.

Well, sometimes life works that way, and sometimes it doesn't.

 

Lately, Choochie has developed the habit of staring at Macho while he eats. She finishes her meal (which I serve in another room), and then she trots over to Macho and stares at him while he finishes his meal. A few times, she has successfully reached around him and stolen some bites, and other times I'm afraid she's bullied him out of his spot. Perhaps she's finally paying him back for all those years that he bullied her nose out of her bowl and ate her food. But I try to come to Macho's defense whenever it seems feasible. I tell Choochie, "That's not yours." I already fed her the food that I purchased specifically for her. Her nose doesn't belong in Macho's bowl.

 

However, there are many places in my small apartment where Choochie is welcome. My multimedia library is just one example. See how roomy it is? I had originally planned to put a nice cat scratcher/playground there in the middle of the floor, but I changed my mind and opted for pillows instead. Choochie has a good view of the kitchen and the living room from her little perching spot there. And Macho is welcome to hang out in there as well.

For my cats, there are so many hangout options in my small apartment. There's no need for them to obsess over the areas that are forbidden to them.

Of course, it's the same way with me in God's house.

"Then Peter, turning around, saw the disciple... Peter, seeing him, said to Jesus, 'But Lord, what about this man?' Jesus said to him, 'If I will that he remain till I come, what is that to you? You follow Me.' " (John 21:20a, 21-22)

"But I want you to be without care. He who is unmarried cares for the things of the Lord -- how he may please the Lord. But he who is married cares about the things of the world -- how he may please his wife... A wife is bound by law as long as her husband lives; but if her husband dies, she is at liberty to be married to whom she wishes, only in the Lord. But she is happier if she remains as she is, according to my judgment -- and I think I also have the Spirit of God." (1 Corinthians 7:32-33, 39-40)

If you've followed my blog for the past several years, you know that I haven't had a date in more than 21 years, and that has NOT been voluntary. So, I've had to process it a lot over the years, and some of my posts on this subject have been pretty whiny. (Hey, when you grieve, that kind of comes with the territory. I think to a degree, grief-whining can be healthy.) But hopefully today's post will be the least whiny of them all.

Paul the Apostle was notorious in the Bible for being single and insisting that everybody else should be, too (unless they couldn't control their sexual desires). I've read the above passage in 1 Corinthians where he's like, "Eh, you don't need to get married; just stay single and be happy; it works for me, so it can work for you, too," and I'm like, "Look, buddy, that's easy for you to say; you don't have 39-year-old female hormones sprinting through your veins."

But now I think I understand what Paul was talking about.

Several nights ago, I had a surprise meltdown with God. I guess even when you spend 21+ years working through the rejection and bitterness of being involuntarily single, you still have huge Old-Faithful geysers of pain that spew out every once in a while. Well, the other night, I had had enough. I drew a line in the sand with God. I told Him that I don't want to spend any more of my heart dreaming about something that may never happen.

I'm done. I'm tired of dreaming about getting married someday -- about Prince Charming breezing into my life like a fairy tale, or stumbling into my life like a romantic comedy, or just calmly walking into my life like a regular guy, and doing all the right stuff to win my heart.

So, God talked me out of it, right? He rebuked my doubt and my unbelief, and He exhorted me to believe in His miraculous provision, right?

Wrong. He told me, "Why would you want a husband? You have Me."

I was reminded about the story in the Bible (1 Samuel 8) where the Israelites stubbornly wanted a king. But God didn't want Israel to have an earthly king; He wanted to reign over Israel Himself. Samuel the prophet tried to talk the Israelites out of demanding a king, because a king would tax them and impose all kinds of government stuff on them. But no, the Israelites wanted to have a king, just like all the other nations had. OK, fine. So, God gave them a king, who turned out to be a jerk (not God's fault). From then on, sometimes Israel had good kings that set excellent examples for worshiping God, and other times Israel had bad kings that set terrible examples and opened the door for Israel to get attacked by all kinds of enemies. Yeah, that's right. The type of authority you're under can make ALL the difference.

For me, the possibility of getting married someday has probably been THE vaguest area of my life -- in terms of hearing God's voice, in terms of knowing where to step, in terms of guarding my heart, etc. But lately while I've been embracing the possibility of remaining (involuntarily) single for the rest of my life, I feel like I've been able to hear God much more clearly in this area. He's impressed on my heart, "If I wanted to provide a husband for you, I would have done it by now." Indeed. Menopause is right around the corner. I'm about 80-90% sure that this marriage window of opportunity has closed for me.

And yet, it's the 10-20% chance that haunts me a little bit. There's always the possibility that God could change His mind and surprise me with a Prince Charming who wouldn't mind marrying a crazy cat lady whose idea of fun is playing video games on her phone on a Saturday night. If God were to make that happen, of course it would be awesome, and this entire blog post would be officially rendered as crap.

But meanwhile, there's work to do. Like Paul notoriously said in the Bible, we single ladies are free to focus on the things of God, rather than always having to worry about pleasing our husbands. Honestly, I can't imagine being able to do the things that I do in my life with a husband and/or children in the mix. I think if a husband were to suddenly fall out of the sky, I'd probably just treat the poor guy like arm candy -- some sort of trophy husband who looks good, stays at home, feeds my cats, and cleans house while I work 8 to 5 and spend gobs of time at church.

God recently spoke another clear thing to me while I was driving home from work one day. I was thinking about how this was a cool season for me, and God was like, "This isn't a season; this is your life."

This IS my life. Maybe years ago, God intended for me to get married, so maybe He placed that dream in my heart while I waited for Prince Charming to wake up and smell the coffee. But maybe the metaphorical coffee was never brewed, and Prince Charming either pursued other women, secretly became gay, or just never showed up for whatever reason. Why should God have to wait on some clueless guy? God designed a life for me to live, so He's going to help me live it, even if He's had to completely remodel my life and redesign His plans in the process. And why wouldn't He? All's fair in love and war. Perhaps at one point, God wanted me to fight this battle called life alongside a life-partner; but perhaps now, He's had to readjust His plans and reposition me on the battlefield. OK, world. Here we go. Give a warrior-princess some room to clutch her shield and swing her sword.

I repeat: I'm done.

When a dream dies, there's always some grieving involved, of course: the loss of something that will never be, the loss of someone who will never exist, the loss of lives that will never be touched. But sometimes when a dream dies, there's relief in releasing something that's already been in the process of dying for decades... especially if that something has been weighing heavily around your neck like a rotting albatross. Egad! Remove the putrid carcass from 'round my weary neck and allow me to run freely and fight valiantly without being weighed down in stench and death! I claim life!

No more "waiting for God's best." I'm already blessed with His best. No more wondering if I'm going to be domestic enough for a husband. I'm already plenty domestic for myself and my cats. No more feeling like I'm "going to waste" as an old maid. I'm already too busy "wasting" myself on Somebody who's already way more interested in me than any clueless boy could ever be.

"For whoever desires to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake will find it." (Matthew 16:25)

Speaking of my readjusted life, God has poked His head into my day a couple of times and asked me, "Do you like it?" I'll be like, "Do I like what?" And He'll be like, "Your life." Yes, Father, thank You. I like it very much.

I'm sure that there will continue to be well-meaning people who show up in my life -- just like the seasonal blanket-washers at the beautiful coin laundromat -- and unintentionally wreak havoc for me by saying things like, "When you get married" or "When you have kids" or even "You won't be able to spend an hour getting ready in the mornings when you have kids." But I don't live to please them. I'm sorry if my life doesn't live up to their particular standards, but if they have a problem with it, perhaps they should take it up with the One whose idea it was in the first place.

I'm done comparing my life to other people's in the same way that Peter compared his life to John's. I'm tired of staring into other people's lives in the same way that Choochie stares at Macho's bowl while he eats his own food. I'm going to enjoy the place that God has set up for me in His house. I'm going to enjoy the food that He especially designed for me, served to me, and intended for me. If I don't eat it, who will?

Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a banquet to chow down.