Archive for the The Journey Category

I seem to be attracting a lot of these unsightly creatures lately. Candidly, I have been searching the recesses of my irritated soul for the appropriate way to respond. These monumental turds, whose rank behavior echoes the odious squelching sounds from “Bog of Eternal Stench” (of “Labyrinth” fame) require a concise comeback.

King Jerk

While jogging with my dog, Annabelle, this morning, we encountered dense foliage that covered the sidewalk. Since we were not equipped with a machete or jungle-resistant attire, we were forced to step into the street. The time was just shy of 7:00am and there was very little traffic. Still, one of the ickiest creatures known to mankind crawled out of the primordial soup, slithered into his car, and decided to putrefy the neighborhood with his stinky attitude. His highness—King Jerk—honked at me and swerved close enough to us to ensure we knew he meant business. Namely—that he was willing to kill us for invading a tiny portion of his road space. And since my mood was already in the toilet and I was not feeling overly charitable—I called him out for what he was—using hand gestures and loud gesticulations.

Truck Driving Trolls

Even worse, just a few nights ago I encountered a similiar reptile, two redneck-reminiscent, truck-driving Trolls nearly ran over two children in my subdivision. The lizard people honked and swerved, nearly toppling the wee (not older than 7 or 8) ones who were merely trying to enjoy a nice evening bike ride. The insipid behavior of the gutter trolls cannot be excused since we literally have no sidewalks. I was not alone in wondering if their impatience was worth the terrified looks of the little people. A nearby pedestrian and father gently guided his bike-riding son(not older than 5) onto a nearby driveway to avoid collision. Hollering once again proved ineffective. Terrible trolls are cowardly creatures who retreat the moment you raise your voice. They are instantly adept at scurrying back under the bridges from whence they crawled.

Unbearable Bog People

But this behavior is not limited to impatient drivers who would rather murder someone than take five seconds to ensure the safety of their neighbor. The workplace is filled with unbearable bog people who squish and squelch with the best of them. A friend recently told me a story about a stupendously despicable organism who plays the part of boss in real life. This boss makes increasingly unreasonable demands, requires work be completed in an impossible time-period, and then declares the work Wrong. When the employee respectfully asks for feedback (so they can correct mistakes) the boss promises to provide edits but then delegates that work to another unfortunate soul who is so overburdened with his own responsibilities that it never gets done. Even worse, this horrifically smelly smog boss wants instant feedback on its own work. It presents the unfortunate employee with reports and expects an immediate response. If the employee delays, he or she can expect bad-breath-down-the-back behavior—since there is no hope of escape shy of quitting.

Jerk Free Zone

Unfortunately, no segment of society is free from these smelly slugs. Be it the grocery cart cretin who shoves their battering ram into unsuspecting shoppers, or the grody advice-giving-know-it-all, we are constantly inundated with jerks and jerkish behavior. I hereby declare that society needs a “Jerk Free Zone”. We need citizens to be aware they live in community, not on the glorious “Guilt Free Island of Self”. When words are sharper than weapons, we need human beings who are willing to abstain from speaking unless they have something nice to say. We need kind-hearted givers who hug instead of shove. We need holistic hearers who help not harm. We need tender-hearted hand-ups instead of hard-hearted slaps across the face. When every day is precious—and very well may be our last—we need humans who are willing to take lessons in kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. And then we need them to teach others to do the same.

The Age of Road Rage

We are on a collision course with jerks every single day of our lives. Like a bicycle accident, it is not a matter of “if” it is only a matter of “when”. So please consider, if you find yourself reading this and your blood pressure begins to rise at the mere thought of children pressing the button to cross in the crosswalk and how it might impact your commute, well, you just might be a Jerk! And if you see someone moving towards a parking spot and you zip in front of them really fast and steal it, you might be a Jerk. And if your child asks you to make them lunch and you tell them to shut up and go away because you would rather read about what President Trump did today, you might be a Jerk. And if your friend trusts you with a secret and you tell everyone that secret behind her back—you are definitely a Jerk! We wonder why civilization is so uncivilized and I think at least part of the answer is the proliferation of Jerks.

So, until that day when the Mighty Jerk Healer comes and gives us Jerk-free bodies to live in perpetual joy and communion with Him for all eternity, I entreat the dear reader to perpetuate a Jerk-Free zone in your community today. Start with your own home, the street you live on or maybe even your whole neighborhood. Help little old ladies across the street. Bake cookies for the new neighbor moving in. turn down your rap music so it doesn’t vibrate through every house on your street when you drive by. And live in peace and harmony with all of humanity to the best of your ability.

And when you can’t…stay in the Bog of Stench where you belong!

I thought I was safe. My heart was beating with the throbs of shattered hopes when my friend asked me what was wrong. I hesitated for a moment. It takes a lot of energy to expose a wound. There is a certain amount of trust involved. That is because we never really know how someone will respond to our pain. Will they blow us off with a pat solution to our problem? Or will they become uncomfortable and quickly excuse themselves?

But this was a good friend—a praying friend! Surely, they would say the right thing.

After all, I was in church. The sun was shining through the cross-shaped stained-glass window and the crowd was slowly retreating from the cavernous sanctuary. Yes, the service was over, but I was afraid to leave. I didn’t want to go back out into the world. The world can be such a horrible place. I just wanted to stay in that place of safety.

So I took a risk. I exposed my heart. I told of the disappointment and horrors of living in a broken/fallen world. The tears were like battering rams against my eyelids and I was ready for them to fall as I told my friend my troubles in halting sentences. I suppose they may have seemed small in the grand scheme of life, but at that moment they felt like giants lined up on the horizon. I suppose I simply needed a hug, a gesture of peace. Instead, I got a rebuke.

My friend told me I was going about things all wrong. I should have done this; not that. They asked me why my expectations were so high. Didn’t I know better?

I stood there dumbfounded while they admonished me. They went so far as to grab my shoulders and press their words into my body. Then they gave me a label I was not prepared for. They knew I had been hurt, and worse, they said the hurt was my fault.

I was shell shocked. Suddenly I went from being safe to absorbing the devastating impact of a wrecking ball.

Have you ever experienced this? Have you taken a risk and found rebuke? How did you respond? More importantly, did you ever recover?

The halls of friendship are littered with the bleached bones of broken relationships. One reaches a certain age and realizes how many have come and gone over the years. We linger over the memories. We console ourselves with the knowledge that we protected ourselves by walking away. But the pain lingers. Like a ghost or ghoul, they haunt us in our dreams. Sometimes with howls of regret.

The worst kind of scorn is silence.

But that is often how I choose to walk away. I do not say a word. I simply cease to speak. Because words are what caused the problem in the first place. I just want the pain to stop. So, I choose the door marked “Exit” because it’s easier.

My friend doesn’t even know what they did wrong. They think it was all a misunderstanding. But I know the truth.

But if I’m being honest, I know one cannot possibly understand the pain of another. One who has never struggled in marriage cannot understand one who has. Just as one who has never struggled with addiction can know the agonies of one who is addicted.

If I dig deeper, I can at least acknowledge how frustrating it is to watch a hurting friend suffer. My personal experience tells me humans are restless. We hurl “words of wisdom” at them because we don’t want to take the time to participate in their suffering. We don’t want to weep with those who weep. Weeping takes time and we are busy. We are pulled away by our own responsibilities and obligations. So we toss a few thoughts at them and hope they land well. Then we console ourselves at having been a “good friend”. We told them what they needed to hear. Sure, it may have landed wrong, but it was still the right thing to say. Wasn’t it?

We quote bible verses like Proverbs 27:6, “Faithful are the wounds of a friend, but the kisses of an enemy are deceitful.” So there!

Friendship over. No takebacks.

Years ago I had a treasured friend who walked out of my life without a word. We had plans for the weekend and she decided she had something more interesting to do so she bailed on me. I was sorely disappointed and told her she was rude. She never spoke to me again. She evaporated like morning mist. There’s a word for it now: Ghosting. I console myself with the knowledge that this is the true test of friendship. A real friend forgives. So how come I struggle to hold myself to the same standard?

I have judged my church friend through the lens of pain. I don’t trust her anymore. But why do I hold her to such a high standard? She is only human. Haven’t I done the same? Haven’t I offered advice to someone who didn’t want it or wasn’t prepared to receive what I had to say? Wasn’t I too in a hurry or unwilling to take time to weep with those who weep?

I don’t want to think about that. I want to believe I am the hero of this story. I am the perfect friend! But I am guilty too. We all are.

There is a cost when we forgive someone.

We have to set aside our pain and say, “I choose to love you anyway.” Sometimes this feels like a little death. After all, we want justification for the wrong done. We want our friend to “pay a price” for hurting us. We want to exact our “pound of flesh.”

And this is when the gospel makes me really uncomfortable. I hurt God when I sin. Sometimes I am so twisted up in my sin that I can’t see the right side up. And that is why God intervened. He sent his son Jesus to bear the punishment—the full wrath of God—for the sin of world—including my sin. I hurt God and he took my punishment. He became the extracted “pound of flesh” that should have been my penance to give. This humbles me. He tells me that if I love him, I need to also love my neighbor as myself. That means I need to forgive my neighbor. This makes me very uncomfortable.

Grace often feels extremely unnatural. But somehow, we must accept it, and then give it as well.

Jesus said, “Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy.”

Come, come, whoever you are. Wonderer, worshipper, lover of leaving. It doesn’t matter. Ours is not a caravan of despair. Come, even if you have broken your vow. A thousand times. Come, yet again, come, come. -Rumi

It takes tremendous courage to forgive someone who has wounded us. Today my simple prayer is, “God, help me to forgive!”

“Our circumstances are not the window through which we understand His love, but rather we must view our circumstances through His love.” – Janet Linton (after the death of her baby 3 weeks before she was due to give birth)

Have you ever been crushed beneath the weight of your circumstances? Did you pray to God for help only to experience the brick wall of silence? Did you finally decide faith was a foolhardy enterprise for simpletons, and throw yours away like an old security blanket you had outgrown?

I recently learned the story of Leon Terblanche via a movie called, “Born to Win”. This semi-autobiographical account of his life details his earnest question: Where was God when terrible circumstances happened in his life?

As a young white boy living in South Africa, Leon was subjected to verbal and physical abuse by his family and then abandoned by his mother. A dark-skinned, African woman he called Mama, took Leon home and cared for him for a time and taught him about Jesus—even though caring for a white boy was inherently dangerous. Leon loved Mama and her son very much and was crushed when he was ripped away from them and returned to his real mother where the abuse continued. He cried to God to help him, but God did not answer. So, he grew up feeling disappointed and cynical about anything faith related.

As an adult, Leon became a teacher who worked with children with special needs. He married and had a daughter, but bitterness and resentment festered like an unhealed wound in his heart. He drank to mask the awful pain and his marriage suffered because of it.

I have often wondered why God allows evil and suffering. I am not alone. Leon’s gut-wrenching cry to God at a pivotal point in the movie caused my husband to say, “Do people really talk to God like that?”

I said, “Yep. It’s called ugly prayer.”

Have you ever ugly prayed? This usually involves clenches fists, sobs, and screaming. Did you know God hears and cares about your pain?

I have a several women friends who have been sexually assaulted. When they share their stories, I silently ask God, “Where were you? Why didn’t you stop it? Why didn’t you break down the door—like Superman—and throw those guys on their ear?” I have other friends who were betrayed and abandoned by their spouses. I know children of alcoholic parents, sisters and brothers of murdered family members, cancer survivors who watch friends with cancer die horrible deaths while they live with survivor’s guilt. If you hadn’t noticed, this world is seriously screwed up! And if you haven’t experienced excruciating pain yet, just wait—you will!

In the heat of human emotion, I tend to look at my present circumstance and think whatever bad thing happened was probably the worst thing that could happen. Conversely, I tend to think every good thing that happened was probably the best thing that could happen. I find as I age that these extremes are seriously short-sighted. Feelings—like circumstances—come and go. There is a whole world that exists outside of my experience, especially when I consider my neighbor who has MS, is on disability, and struggles to pay her bills.

My narrow perspective widens when I read the bible. This important historical narrative tells me human beings are immortal and created in the image of an immortal God. But while immortality holds a specific charm for some, it holds a notion of horror for others.

No one captures the themes of eternal life better than Peter Beagle (of “The Last Unicorn” fame). I recently picked up a book of short stories titled, “Immortal Unicorn” because it had his name on the cover. This collection of short stories addresses the beauty and terror of immortality. One such story titled, “Gilgamesh Recidivus” (P.D. Cacek) tells the tale of a man who tracks a unicorn through the barrens of Siberia to beg for death because—as it turns out—he is immortal. He has grown weary of the pain of watching the people he loves grow old and die.

Death is a significant part of the human experience, but the bible makes clear that human death is not the end of the story. The choices we make this side of death determine how we live on the other side of the door. God gives us the choice; life with Him in Heaven or an eternity of separation from Him. Some people relish the idea of an eternity without God. They think “no God” is a great thing. But “no God” also means none of the good gifts he gives to us. If God is the creator of everything “good”, what does eternity without Him look like? The bible is clear. It says when we choose to reject God we will live in a place of “weeping and gnashing of teeth.” Forever. And in that story, there is no unicorn to set us free.

God is the lover of our souls.

The thing that intrigues me about the gospel message is that not only is God present during our painful circumstances, He participates in them with us through the personhood of Jesus. He is not a monster! He is our savior! God recognizes that the most horrible thing that has happened to humankind is the curse of sin and the possibility of permanent separation from Him. His son, Jesus, extends his hands in hope that we will surrender our lives to Him and be saved from eternal death. He proved this way was true by allowing God to heap on Himself the sin of all humanity. Jesus took our punishment and died in our place on the cross. Three days later God raised him from the dead. The second half of the bible is eye-witness testimony to this fact.

The bible is a real “guts and glory” kind of book. From start to finish it explains the inception of humanity, where everything went sideways, and what God is doing to fix it for the best possible outcome—promoting His glory! One thing it is not, is boring.

Eventually Leon Terblanche’s daughter convinced him to go to church with her and he learned God was present during the worst moments of his life. Leon is now a pastor who offers this message of hope to people from Sedgefield, Western Cape, South Africa. When I reached out to him on Facebook to tell him thank you for sharing this message of hope, he asked me to make sure to share it with all of you.

Today, if the painful circumstances in your life make you question God’s character, I encourage you to read the bible. God is not defined by us. He is infinitely more than we can think or imagine. And incredibly, Dear Reader, He condescends to love you!

You can stream the movie, “Born to Win” online and I wholeheartedly encourage you to do so.

In conclusion, I want to share the words of Maltbie Babcock from the beautiful hymn.

“This is my Father’s world. Let me never forget. That though the wrong seems often so strong, God is the ruler yet. This is my Father’s world. The battle is not done. Jesus who died will be satisfied and earth and Heaven will be won.”