Thursday Thoughts: The Back Door

I haven't been much in the mood to talk these past weeks. As I wrote to one of my best friends in an e-mail, "I've been exceptionally brooding and contemplative lately." It's not necessarily such a bad thing to be there - but it can be to stay there, and so I am attempting to lift a silence that has been partially self-imposed and partially imposed by the requests of others. But, because of this, I've been a bit lapsed and unfaithful in my blogging, and for that I ask your forgiveness.

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For almost a year now, we have been praying for some very specific and practical things: a) that God would provide us a way to honor our creditors by repaying our debts, and b) that God would provide me a job, preferably related to my field, so that I could contribute and use what I felt He led me back to school to study with my master's program.

And we have waited, sometimes patiently and sometimes not-so-patiently, for answers to these requests - mostly expecting them to come through the "front door," or to be obvious solutions to such problems.

But, by the grace of God, the answers to these requests have not come in obvious ways. He has shown Himself to be infinitely more gracious and loving in granting answers to these prayers, as well as His complete control over this world, in how He has dealt with us these last 6-8 weeks.

The answer to our first prayer (concerning our debts) came through an unexpected and freak car accident that resulted in our Subaru being totaled. Christopher's interpretation of the whole thing is that God looked at our situation, heard our prayers, recognized that we were too stubborn to sell the car ourselves to get out of debt, and decided to do it for us. In the accident's wake, we have been able to pay off two sources of debt entirely, pay down a third, put aside money for a down payment, and learned that we can live with one car (though it can be a bit tricky, since I work in town and Chris works half an hour south of our home).

Not at all what we would have picked on our own, but incredibly demonstrative of God's grace toward us in our foolishness.

The answer to the second has been a bit more slow to develop. I have been praying specifically that God would have a place for me where I could use my talents and gifting to further the Kingdom or help the little guy (since that's what I felt Him lead me to go back to school for). What's more is that I was hoping to find a part-time job (like, four days a week instead of five), so that I could build in time to work on and complete my thesis (and, consequently, my master's degree).

But all I found when I started looking were full time positions that were not in any way related to what I ultimately wanted to do, so I shifted back toward admin and office work (which has kind of always been a foolproof fallback for me). I was blessed with four weeks' worth of work in September and October and was scheduled to go back after a two-week break, but the project stalled out - in fact, every job I was put up for between then and the recent past stalled out because no decision was ever reached on who to hire. In January, with my gobs of spare time, I decided I wanted to make my time count and serve the body if at all possible, so I started spending my time with a family that is part of our teen family ministry (their oldest kids are teens - they have seven, and their youngest is 3). It turned into a job that lasted, conveniently enough, through last Thursday, when the family left for a vacation.

I say "conveniently" because God has finally found a place for me, and I started a new position with our church on Tuesday.

And while that is a long story filled with prayers, conversations, and seeking counsel, it boils down to this: At every turn, I kept hearing God speak softly and firmly to my heart to "Move forward in faith."

God may not fulfill all of my dreams, but He continues to fulfill some of them and to satisfy my heart at the greatest of its depths. I may not ever be a biological mother to a baby girl or boy, but that doesn't mean I stall out in the bitterness of that reality. At some point this spring, I realized that I want my life to count. I want to be fruitful. I want to further the Kingdom of God.

I want to march onward, to move forward in faith, in all of the things that God calls us to - regardless of what dreams He may or may not fulfill along the way.

It is certainly a back door. After months of waiting for any position to keep me busy, I am humbled and overwhelmed by God's orchestration of events for my life at this time. When I interviewed for a different position with our church, the one that I'm walking into didn't exist. God didn't just find me a place, He made me one where none existed. And it will require faith, as a lot of it is experimental and filled with transition and unknown - but I'm walking forward in the faith that He has called me to walk in, and I'm looking forward to what He does with our body of believers.

And might I mention that I work four days a week? How 'bout them apples?

So there you have it. Back doors all over the place. Hidden blessings.

How beautiful to be reminded that He has not abandoned us, and He never will.

Thursday Thoughts: Rain is No Measure

[[Because this post will reference several seasons of life, I've decided to add links to some older posts concerning things referenced in the past (where applicable) for those who may not be as familiar with my life and growth in Christ over the past 13 years.]]

It is rare that enough is swirling around in my head late at night that it causes me to lie restless, compelled to write and compelled to seek the depths of my heart - these days, at least.

I have struggled to find a normal routine in recent years (see "A Night Owl's Growing Convictions on the Importance of Daylight"), migrating from night owl to functioning daylight person, and I have yet to strike a proper balance. I'm still often too exhausted in daylight hours to function well, perhaps reinforcing my theory from college that I actually sleep best when I start in the early hours of the morning rather than the later hours of the evening... but I digress.

As I laid in bed this evening attempting (or maybe not attempting so much) to find the sleep my body so desperately craves, several things swirled in my head as I mulled over things that have accumulated over the past few months of our lives. I apologize in advance that this might come across as an incredible and random mixture of thoughts, and put forth that they do coalesce.

The first is perhaps that this last week has seemed a lifetime. Chris shared a verse tonight with the youth kids from James: "So whoever knows the right thing to do and fails to do it, for him it is sin" (4:17).

And that might be where my self-evaluation is driven from tonight, casting my own actions and reactions in a fresh glow of saving light.

I know that I can trust God to have the best for me, and I know that it is good to do so - that I should do so. But I fail to, and that is sinful.

As I've mentioned before, my first listens of Sara Groves' albums seem to be ordained for the moments and seasons I need their truths the most (see "Christmas" and "Peace, Peace"). Her latest, "Invisible Empires" is no exception. A few weeks ago, I learned that she had a new album (that I somehow missed) and I purchased it with an iTunes card (a Christmas gift from my parents) the next day. I somehow wound up driving around town for a while trying to find a friend's apartment, which was probably a good thing because I was in tears by the end of the second song.

In the little more than a year since my grandmother died and I woke from my second major bout with depression since being married (see "A different kind of happy"), our lives have certainly been incredible messes. We have seen everything from freak accidents and rehabilitation to friends moving away and substantial delays in what we thought life would be. We have also seen incredible blessings (see "God is not a cashier at a fast food restaurant") and have been shown that God is still gracious toward us in every way.

But in the midst of all of the chaos (that continues), I'm beginning to realize that I have replaced some of my depression with a strong desire to control my life - and I'm finally realizing, more than a year later, that I truly hold no control over anything that I desire to hold firmly in the palm of my hand.

I cannot force someone to hire me. I cannot keep the sins of others from breaking my heart. I cannot control hurtful words others might say. I cannot prevent others from growing up and moving forward in their lives in ways that I feel incapable of doing. I cannot control whether or not we ever have children. I cannot keep others from moving away or falling away.

But I am finding that the things I do have quite a bit of say in are possibly the things that actually matter, which is a strangely liberating thing for me tonight. For the first time in more than a year, I feel I can take God at His word that He is not only good but has good planned for our lives - even if it doesn't turn out as we may have wanted it.

And this is where Sara Groves song, "Open My Hands," comes into the picture and is so incredibly poignant as it pierces my soul at its deepest points:

I believe in a blessing I don't understand -

I've seen rain fall on the wicked and the just.

Rain is no measure of His faithfulness -

He withholds no good thing from us.

I believe in a peace that flows deeper than pain - 

The broken find healing in love.

Pain is no measure of His faithfulness - 

He withholds no good thing from us.

I will open my hands, will open my heart.

I am nodding my head, an emphatic "yes,"

for all that You have for me.

Certainly, this idea of common and special grace has been settling in my head for almost a year now (see "How He loves us..."). One of the most deep-reaching areas of struggle for me has been our desire to have children, with this month marking more than a year and a half since we began this painful adventure. It is something that we have held close and not heavily publicized.

And, no, I am still not pregnant. But God is still good, and I believe that more and more whole-heartedly the longer this waiting continues. The crazy thing is that I'm finally beginning to let go of the need to do all of this in my own timing. My desire is still there, and it sits with me daily, but some of the urgency is receding a bit as I realize it is good to trust the plan God has - and perhaps, for the first time, that to do otherwise is sinful.

Perhaps it is the unfortunate events of the past few weeks that have finally placed everything in the proper perspective, as I haven't had the opportunity to grieve as I typically do. It's amazing how, month after month, one can still have the slightest sliver of hope that things might finally be different than every month that has come before.

I may not be able to control my life, but I can be useful. I can do the good I have been entrusted with (Ephesians 2:10). I can enjoy my dear husband, whom I love and admire more than I did the day I walked to meet him in a church in Aurora, Colorado. I can enjoy the blessing of his friendship, his desire to know my heart, his desire to continue to lead us in the direction of the Kingdom - remaining faithful to the vows we took unto God and unto each other (see "Four Years and It is Lovelier (Still)").

I can choose joy. I can choose to continue my pursuit of the Kingdom. I can choose to be healthy. There is no sin in the pursuit of these things.

It has been interesting since the beginning of the year, when I resolved I was going to finally take control of my body and lose the 20 pounds that make me overweight. To that point, I had hoped they would just be taken over if I were to become pregnant, and had used that as an excuse to avoid being healthy as I ought to be. The strangest piece is that, as I've lost little by little and seen myself become a little smaller, I'm finding that there's life in that.

God has blessed this past year with an incredible and building desperation for Him in my heart. In my weakness and in my emerging into the light of sanity, He has been faithful to restore my awe of the love and grace He has given to me.

I have never longed for heaven more and have fallen in love with the promise of Revelation 21:5 - "And he who was seated on the throne said, 'Behold, I am making all things new.' Also he said, 'Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.'"

All things new! Do we even dare to begin to think we know the implications of that thought? The world is broken, but the God I serve - the God who sent His only Son to redeem this wretch - is not broken, and is the same today as He has always been and always will be. How glorious!

And so I find myself desiring to embrace all that God has for me tonight, for the first time in a long time. The rain of the past year is no measure of His faithfulness or His love for me. He is good, and I want to open my heart to that truth daily - to see His infinite graces toward me in every star placed in the sky, every time of laughter with Christopher, every impatient pawing from a pup who just wants to be loved, every melody and lyric that resonates deep within, and every opportunity of sweet friendship, fellowship and worship. I am blessed in each and every moment, where there is at the least a hint of grace. 

Common grace, specifically for me.

Listening to: Invisible Empires, Sara Groves
Reading: Emily's Quest, L.M. Montgomery

God is not a cashier at a fast food restaurant... (Though I have been waiting here for a while and I'm still waiting for my order)

The other night, Chris went to his high school's homecoming football game and I stayed home to recuperate a bit from some difficult things that I had taken in over the course of the day/week/month/year (it's been a little rough recently).

Thinking that taking some time to think included not making my own dinner, I ventured the mile up the street to a fast food restaurant, went inside, and placed my order at the counter.

Now, there were definitely other customers, but it's not like the place was swarmed. After placing my order, I filled up my drink cup at the beverage station and settled in to wait for my food.

About 5 minutes went by, which was fine (I'm willing to wait a bit if need be), and I noticed that one or two of the customers who had placed orders before mine were still waiting.

Another 5 minutes went by, so I went and re-filled my drink cup (because I'd been drinking my fizzy beverage since I started waiting). Still no food.

By now, though, I'm starting to realize that customers who ordered after me have gotten their food and moved out of the ordering/receiving area. But I still wait, thinking that maybe there was just an issue with that particular food and maybe they ran out of chicken temporarily or whatever.

And then another 5 minutes went by (we're up to 15 minutes now) and I realized that all but the two or three most recent customers had all received their food orders. Then the kid next to me (maybe he was in college) asked me how long I'd been waiting.

When other customers begin to notice that you've been there a while, there's a good chance that something went awry, so I went to the counter and politely told the cashier that I'd been waiting 15 minutes for my order and had yet to see or receive it.

Upon hearing this, she promptly went and grabbed my food order from the kitchen and handed it to me in a paper bag, and I returned home and ate it.

And as I ate my now not-so-satisfying bag filled with lard, I realized that what I had experienced in the fast food restaurant was a pretty acute metaphor for my life as of late - starting with the fact that I felt forgotten.

It struck me because I had been trying to explain to both Christopher and one of my friends earlier in the week (and in the day) how I felt, and I came up with a word (abandoned) that I knew didn't quite convey my feelings accurately, but for which I didn't possess a better alternative.

It's a weird concept, especially when you throw in the words "feel" and "by God." Because, let's face it - God's plans are not up for grabs at a fast food counter. You don't just go up and place your order, wait the prescribed amount of time for your next life season to fry in a tub of oil, and then take it home with you. It doesn't work like that. God doesn't work like that.

Nonetheless, I'm trying to root out this mentality when it comes to my expectations of God and His interest in and interaction with my life.

I feel like I placed my order 15 minutes ago, and I've seen people get theirs ahead of me and understood that they got here first and waited their allotments of time, but now people who arrived after me are getting theirs, too - punk kids, the geriatric crowd getting their milkshakes (I actually happen to love that older people go to get milkshakes together - I totally want to be like that, but that's not at all my point here), and others who are pretty similar to myself.

But the thing is, I'm still waiting. Sipping my fizzy beverage from my drink cup.

And, you know, I've started to get a little impatient. I'm eager to get my hands on that nice hot slice of deep-fried life. It just never comes.

And then I go ask again.

Of course, this is where the analogy breaks down, because God is not the cashier at a fast food restaurant, where the customer is always right and helpings are served up almost instantaneously if only you let them know that something didn't happen quite as it should have.

God is always right. Huge difference.

The thing that I'm really trying to work into my head, though, is that in the waiting for this big portion of life, I too easily skip over the blessing of the fizzy beverage sitting in my hand. It's easy to complain when it's there for too long and your hand starts to be incredibly cold, and you forget that you've already received part of your order - even if it's not the piece that you think you need.

I too easily forget the many blessings that God has given to Christopher and me over the past year. It has not been easy, and the fight to keep my life out of the prison of depression has been incredibly difficult in ways it has never been, and the fight against my flesh more intense and more acknowledged. I've been wearied by our circumstances. I miss people who have passed into the glorious presence of our God and who have moved out-of-state. I'm even back at work hoping to pay off some things that accumulated in the wake of Christopher's accident and buying a house (and those pesky student loan repayments that start up in February or whenever).

But God has greatly blessed us and been faithful. We might still be waiting for our order, but He's given us drink cups to fill and be refreshed in while we wait:

• Christopher's surgery and rehabilitation went well, with no permanent nerve damage, and he's already back to doing most of the things he loves best
• We are happily settled into our home, which was impossible from the start, but for which God cleared every hurdle and answered every prayer for help with finances and remodeling after Christopher's injury, and in allowing it to be a place where we can welcome others
• I finished my coursework for my grad program (though that thesis is still pending)
• Our summer with Mpact was incredible, and included a great conference, encouraging meetings with the youth, and a study of Galatians that was challenging
• Christopher's job and coaching have continued, despite budget cuts statewide to educators
• We have gotten to spend quite a bit of time with both of our families
• When life finally settled down in September and I realized I was bored for the first time in months, I set out to find a job - and had three offers within a week

My spiritual drink cup is overflowing with gloriously sweet and fizzy beverage. I'm just struggling to see it for what it is because it's really cold and kind of sticky on my fingers, and it's not exactly what I wanted most out of the order I placed. I know I'm still waiting for what I ordered, and it might feel like things got lost back there behind the counter, but I'm trying to trust that it isn't the case. The God I know and love doesn't forget people - sins, of course, because Scripture tells us that, but not people.

And so, when you see me sitting around still waiting for my order, could you encourage me to just enjoy the unlimited refills on my fizzy beverage?

Because it's one thing to feel forgotten by God and another entirely to believe it.

Reading: Anna Karenina, Leo Tolstoy
Listening to: Odd Soul, Mutemath; Vice Verses, Switchfoot