Destination Discipline

“For because he himself has suffered when tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted.” Hebrews 2:18

Have you ever stood before the billowing clouds of a stormfront? Did you watch the undulating swirl with awe as as the wind swept over your face and the first drops of rain hit your cheeks? Did you rush for cover when the wind picked up and the branches on the trees began to wave like white flags before a battalion of the enemy? Did you watch from the safety of your living room window as limbs broke and lightening raged across the sky?

I like to read the comments on social media much more than I like to respond. It interests me what people think and write–often with more time spent on the latter. Therefore, I took an interest in a a post from the St. Charles County police department on a crime that had been committed recently and how it impacted the community.

A hunter was shooting for turkey when he accidentally hit a hiker on a trail I frequent in Weldon Springs. How he did that surprises me as I often see people walking and running that trail. With scenic views over the Missouri River, I wondered why any hunter would be pointing a gun in any direction in that area. One of my neighbors wrote, “I’m sure he didn’t do it on purpose and I am praying for the hunter and the victim.” Someone responded, “Whether he did it on purpose is beside the point–the result is the same. And if you want to waste your time praying, go for it.”

This set off a rapid succession of discourse and no end of nastiness.

The thing is, I have often felt like prayer is a waste of time–but no one has ever said that to my face. The internet provides a barrier between acquaintances where they can say what they might never say to ones face with no shame. The thing that struck me about that conversation was how often I had prayed for the individual who wrote “prayer is a waste of time.”

Is this what faith in God looks like from outside? Like I am a muttering fool? For an instant, I regretted ever lifting them up. Why did I spend precious moments of my life meditating on them?

These little “emotional storms” occur with such frequency on social media that last year I started to delete people from my feed who engaged in such behavior. Especially those who identify as Christians. It’s one thing to watch the storm approach–but once the wind and rain touch me personally, I’m out. To the safety of the house, I run.

“Whoever belittles his neighbor lacks sense, but a man of understanding remains silent.” Proverbs 11:12

But as I am learning–even silence speaks volumes. Just ask someone whether or not they got the vaccine.

The temptation to “speak your mind” is as enticing as chocolate buttercream icing. Worse, the temptation to berate and judge those with opposing views is like molten lava cake. I am coming to understand the reason we are all clashing is because we have lost the ability to see we are not always right. We form opinions based on our life experiences and then project them onto others as if our view was the only one. We are not objective; we are subjective. But rather than try to understand the perspective of someone else, we project onto them. Unfortunately, this creates misunderstanding and the inevitable hurt feelings.

What if we started asking questions to seek to understand before we “sounded off?” What if we sought to see the cracks of pain in our neighbors and friends before we applied the brand of medicine we deem best? Some of them need mercurochrome but others need stitches. And none of us know how deep or how infected their wound may be. If we apply wisdom, we remain silent, but if we apply courage–we ask questions. More importantly, if we exemplify love–we heal a wound–even if we walk away choosing to disagree.

I would suggest we are all exposed to the elements–waiting for a storm front to blow in. I have a lot of experience getting wet and ducking for cover, but I’d like to practice being the shelter for my neighbor instead. From their perspective, I may be “wasting my time in prayer” but that doesn’t mean I can’t seek to understand why they feel that way. And it especially doesn’t mean I should stop praying for them.

Standing put in the storm and not becoming the lightening is a discipline. It may take some time to practice being an umbrella instead, but if God is still listening–and answering prayers–I know His promise to “give us more grace” will help.

It’s been raining again. But it’s not a little “drip, drip, drop, little April showers” that happens in Bambi. It’s a cold and fussy, snot-like moisture that finds the crevices in rooves and basement corners and creeps in. It’s the nasty drivel that spits and leaves a brown stain on the ceiling where things were once crisp and white. It’s a “Where the mop?” kind of moment.

I’ve been working on a building a retaining wall. A few weeks ago I started to build the steps. I had the foundation all laid before I realized I didn’t know what I was doing. So there are piles of dirt and limestone gravel waiting to be moved and I haven’t the brain power to finish the puzzle. I’ve been watching Youtube videos and looking at pictures but I haven’t the confidence to do what they do. So when the rain started washing away my dirt, I just sighed. What I really need is for an expert to come in and just finish it for me, but I can’t afford that. So I decided maybe I don’t need stairs. I’ll just build up the wall and fill it in with dirt and finish it off with creeping flowers to cover my ineptitude.

But there’s a level of disappointment I can’t articulate in that approach. I really want to “finish well.” I’ve spent a few years building this thing now and it seems like giving up is well, really lame. But I’m in the messy middle of the project and I can’t see my way out of it so matter which angle I stare from. And believe me, I’ve analyzed them all.

A friend of mine is going through a pretty tough time with one of her children. She’s tried any number of therapies and none of them are working. His behavior is off the charts bad. He’s rebellious, hot-tempered, and defiant. He’s also wickedly compulsive. This past year he’s been out of school more than he’s been in and she’s out-of-her mind worried about him. She’s reached a stage of hopelessness unbeknownst to people who never had a child with behavioral disorders.

“Some hearts are built on a floodplain.” – Sara Groves

The other day she felt the waves of despair lapping at the edge of her feet. So she chucked all her plans for the day and fled to the river to pray. She grabbed her bible and a cup of coffee and followed the two-lane road until it ended at the Marina. There she sat–reading Hebrews and weeping.

Hebrews 11 describes the faith of people who lived long ago; Noah, Abraham, and Moses. The narrator tells us of the many wonderful things God did for them; saving one from a flood, giving one back the life of his son, delivering the last (and all the Israelites) from certain death near the Red Sea. But then he says something curious:

“These all died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth.” Hebrews 11:13

So what exactly were they promised that they didn’t receive?

“For people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. If they had been thinking of that land from which they had gone out, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city.” Hebrews 11:14-16

My friend called me from the edge of hope and asked me to walk her back. She was staring at homes on stilts–built right up next to the banks of the mighty Mississippi. There was even a little community playground with a swing set and a slide. No one was playing on them in the rain, of course, but there they were–just waiting for the river to rise and wash them all away.

My friend said, “How do people live like that? Right there on the edge of insanity?”

“I don’t know.” I said.

“I see a deck built 20 feet off the ground and on top of it are 3 gazebos. Why would somebody build like that? I mean, I’m looking at a pavilion and a bevy of boats at their docks and all I can think about are floods and tornados. It’s not safe.”

“Safety is an illusion,” I said. “None of us are safe. I suppose some people prefer to live by the water. I bet it’s beautiful when the weather is nice.”

“I guess.” She said.

We were silent for a few minutes and I said, “You are going to get through this. It’s going to be okay.”

“How do you know that?” I could hear the urgency in her voice, and the disbelief.

I told her the truth. I said, “because God has promised. Hebrews 10:23 says, Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful.”

My friend cried for a while and then dried her eyes and went home. And I believe she will be okay. She trusts the Lord–even when life is messy and painful.

As for me, it finally stopped raining. I’m sitting here staring out at the mud and the unfinished wall, and the silly, greedy squirrels who are waiting for me to put out more walnuts. Because of the rain, the birdbath is full and the sparrows are taking turns splashing around. They seem so joyful and optimistic. And since their happiness is contagious, I decide to go outside and enjoy the sunshine with them.

I’ll finish my wall eventually–stairs or no stairs. And my friend will get through this difficult time in her journey. Because the thing is, earth is not our home. We are looking forward to a heavenly home whose foundation is built by God. And that is nothing if not grounds for filling the heart with gladness.

“The saying is trustworthy and deserving of full acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the foremost.” 1 Timothy 1:15

I was proud of my new helmet. It had a sun visor and a face shield that shaded my eyes. I pulled on layer after of layer of “performance wear” and inserted the new heated insoles into my shoes. It was a cool 28 degrees but I was ready to burn some rubber–bicycle tire rubber that is.

I quickly discovered that two pairs of gloves wasn’t enough. I would tuck a hand in a pocket for a mile and then switch hands. The wind was against me but I pushed through. I’m very stubborn and have a head as hard as an anvil. I wasn’t going to let a little cold weather and wind stop me. Mind over the elements, I said.

About halfway through my ride I got tired. I decided to “phone a friend”. The friend talked to me for about 10 miles, until I got within a mile from my house said goodbye. The steep incline to my street makes talking prohibitive. So I hung up and “bucked up” for the final stretch of my 27 mile trek around St. Charles County.

But then my tire caught on uneven pavement and I crashed into the road–right into oncoming traffic. I smacked my face and chest and tried to get up but I couldn’t. So I skootched my butt and tried to drag my bike out of harm’s way. Several people jumped out of vehicles to help me. A woman (whose name I don’t remember) grabbed my bike and handed me a paper towel. Blood was dripping from my left eye(which later bruised nicely but was not seriously damaged due to my new helmet). A young man in a white truck stopped traffic until I was out of the way. He then took my bike and me—home.

Between cracked ribs, a sprained wrist, and miscellaneous bruises, I was pretty miserable for a few weeks. I was also thankful. It could have been so much worse. I tried not to focus on the pain and instead on recovery. Finally, a month after the accident, I climbed back on my bike and set out.

What I discovered was nerve shattering–I had completely lost my confidence. Every patch of gravel, every uneven space, every blast of wind caused me to tense up with anxiety. I cut the ride short and aimed for home–feeling certain I would fall at any moment. I put the bike away and wondered how I would ever ride again.

I have faced many dilemma’s in my efforts to live a healthy lifestyle. Refined sugars clearly affect my neural pathways and need to be avoided at all costs. I haven’t done a good job of forsaking them this winter and have gained some weight. Therefore exercise is as important as ever. I am cultivating a mindset that if I “fall off the food wagon” I have to get back on again. And thus I am taking that approach with my bike. Fall off? Get back on. Crash into traffic? Recover and re-animate! But my confidence is still affected.

Back in the saddle again!

I set out today for a 30 mile ride. I plugged into a sermon series and tried to get my “footing” on the bike. The wind was fierce at times and I stopped on the side of the road several times to take a deep breath, adjust my saddle, and wait for traffic. But I made it 29 miles! And I was super proud that I was able to climb the steep hill back to my home without walking the bike. This is more than a “fake it until you make it” philosophy. The truth is, I HAVE to face my fear and conquer it if I ever want to enjoy riding my bike again.

There are a couple other areas of my life that I need to apply this mentality. I am really struggling to trust people after being hurt. It’s so difficult to forgive and to love people who have been so unkind. But this is the path Jesus walked and so must I.

I wonder what my dear readers are struggling with these days? Whatever it is, you can conquer it with Christ’s help. Just keep getting on the bike. Just keep trying to ride. He goes before us and He will deliver us.