So, Here's the Thing, We're non-Begging Beggars

Thanks to all of you who have shared your stories of how you found Joy after a difficult season in your life. Keep sending them in; I love hearing them, and there is plenty of room for more!

Here's one of the things I and my walking buddy have been talking about recently.  See if you agree.  I mentioned in my blog while I was in India that what always strikes me when I'm there is how completely desperate the women there are for God.  When they ask you to pray for them, they prize those prayers as if they were the highest payment, the most valuable gem in the world.  When they pray together (something we often feel uncomfortable doing here, or at least don't typically practice regularly), there it sounds like stepping out of a soundproof booth into a sports arena.  It's deafening. 

We aren't desperate for God here.  We barely need him.  At least we act like we don't.  We certainly aren't without struggles, though.  We all face them.  Our lives seem to be about trying to get through the latest turmoil or trying to get ahead financially.  "If I can just hang in there until this is over, then I can rest."  Or "If we can make it til the end of the year bonus, we can pay off these debts."  But we always want more.  We're seldom satisfied.  Enough is never enough.  Too much is not even enough!  We aren't always the happiest people around either.  We are depressed, overworked, exhausted, angry whiners and complainers.  I mean we cover it well, of course.  We don't want people to KNOW we're depressed, angry whiners and complainers.  (Being overworked and exhausted seems to be OK for people to know.)  And we do pray about these things.  We go to therapy or a financial counselor.  We read books and go to Bible Studies and seminars.  And sometimes we find some help.  Mostly though, it seems we find new ways to cope.  New strategies to try.  New ways of looking at things.  And therapy can be good!  Financial counseling can be good!  Bible Studies and seminars and books can be good!  We actually need all the help we can get, right?

I am a trained as a Christian Counselor and I believe strongly in emotional and mental health, and I know that God uses many means for our help and healing. Absolutely He uses therapy and books and seminars and His word and nature and conversations with friends, and a host of other ways to speak to us and guide us. But why aren't there more endings to problems? Why aren't there more people being set free? Why aren't we experiencing more real and lasting change? Where in my life does God desire more for me than for me to just "feeling my feelings" when I am troubled and I automatically turn to other means of coping?

So here's the thing.  If the God we serve is the Healer and the Counselor, why do we continue to stay more wrapped up in our problems and our sicknesses than we are about what HE wants for our lives?  Or put another way; Where is the healing?  Where is the help?  Addictions are growing at a faster rate, affecting a greater and more diverse cross-section of our world than ever before.  More marriages are breaking up than ever before.  More children are left to bear the scars into adulthood of their unstable families of origin than ever before.  And we are Christians!  Where is God in our lives?  Where is His changing power?  How is He making a difference?  How are our lives any different than those who don't profess a relationship with God? 

I like the phrase "Christians aren't perfect, just forgiven."  It's so true.  We certainly are far from perfect.  But it can also be a cop-out that means, don't judge me me, don't hold me to any standard, don't watch my life, don't expect anything from me.   So my new favorite phrase is "Beggars showing other beggars where to find Bread" (differing opinions on sourcing that one,  often incorrectly attributed to Martin Luther, possibly D.T. Niles; so I'm going with Anonymous.) 

I love that I came to a place where I realized, although I was raised with an unspoken "Us" vs. "Them" mentality, that we are ALL "Them"!  We are all beggars!  We are all hopelessly lost in our sins, our struggles, our addictions, our pride, and ourselves, really.  Of course I have capitalized the B in 'Bread' to mean the Living Christ, the Bread of Life, the only true nourishment for our souls and our lives and our problems.  The only One out there who can actually SAVE us from ourselves and our messed up ways.  And I have changed the 'telling' to 'showing', because I like the idea of walking alongside someone and bringing them to the One who is the answer for all their problems.  I am, after all, a counselor, who should be walking alongside, not merely telling.  "Beggars showing other beggars where to find Bread".  Awesome.

But even with that being my favorite phrase and something to aspire to, it doesn't seem we are as desperate as beggars.  It doesn't seem the Bread is really filling and really nourishing us when we do find it.  Perhaps it is difficult for me to see it since I, and many of my friends, have been raised in the church, and our lives haven't been dramatically changed.  I've loved Jesus for as long as I can remember.  But shouldn't that be all the more reason to know how desperate I am for him?  How desperate my life would be without Him?  Wouldn't I be a pro by now at having Him help me with my struggles?  Shouldn't there BE a difference in my life? 



So I have begun praying for God to show me where I am desperate for Him.  "Where do I need you most, God, and don't even know it?"  Where is it that my soul hungers and thirsts for you?"  "Where am I filling myself with busyness or pride or folly or food or apathy instead of coming to you and letting you fill me?" 

I'll let you know what He says.  Maybe.

 

Good bye, Thanksgiving. Hello Christmas!

Such was the sentiment I wrote on my wipe-off plate the morning all our company left after the Thanksgiving holiday. I'm always exhausted the Monday after, and always sad to see our families drive away. The older we all get, the more I wish we lived closer to everyone. This year, however, I was especially pensive about the time we had just spent together.

So many different snapshots went through my mind of twenty of us living and/or floating in and out of this house for the past five days. Various shifts of help in the kitchen ranging from five to 85 years old made me smile... most of all, the robotic movements of all the cousins pitching in to clear tables and wash and dry dishes after the big Thanksigiving dinner! I couldn't have been more grateful. There was the traditional pool tournament downstairs, while boxing and bowling on the Wii upstairs was a new favorite this year. Old girl scout songs were spontaneously sung (with bouts of forgetfulness), for the pre-schoolers around the dining room table one night. Then there was a hilarious discussion in the upstairs sitting area by several generations about when and if you should ever be too old to enjoy sex. That's always a good food digestor!

When things got slow, we could always rev things back up by trying to get Simone to speak some new words or listening to tales told by kindergarteners... some true, some not. The cousins had a night out this year to themselves; no parents, no kids. My sister's family left early for good reason. The new baby born earlier in the week beckoned a new Grandma home to hold little Audrey Jane. We missed Sam and Carly, the parents, and others who stayed behind, but are thankful she arrived into this world healthy. At the same time, we celebrated my dad's 85th birthday, putting a new spin on the "something old, something new" phrase. Dad is just as fit as ever and looks better every year. Still, no one escapes the end of life, and we can't help wonder how many more Thanksgivings he and the "wiser" ones will be with us. For that reason, we presented Dad with all the military medals he earned during his service to our country as a U.S. Marine in World War II. What a special and memorable birthday it was!

We missed Doug's dad this year, but it was so good to have his mom come again, after several years of caring for her ailing husband. Reminding us again, however, that life begins and ends, two among the group this year are expecting new babies whose cries will hopefully be part of the backdrop next year.

One of the highlights for me was the Sunday brunch at the country club where the kids each made a gingerbread house to usher in the Christmas season. It turned the corner for me from fall to winter, from Thanksgiving to Christmas, as the snow gently fell outside the windows, as if on cue.

Not just another season was passing. Not merely another year. Rather something bigger, more cyclical. We're all getting older, and there are more children. My girls are not just becoming young women; they are young women. It was confirmed this morning when Lauren stopped by to copy some of our family's traditional recipes from the weekend spread. She wanted the recipe for Aunt Gloria's vegetable dip, who is sadly no longer here to make it herself. And she wanted my Mom's deviled egg recipe, which she got from my aunt. She grabbed a few others and I smiled as she drove away. I knew the sweet times and stories passed down through the generations, told around the family tables where those same foods were served would get a new twist and keep going.

No sooner had she left, did Shannah call for my holiday quiche recipe. She was making it for dinner tonight. And so the new twist begins.

I'm home alone tonight amidst the rubble left behind from another wildly successful family gathering. So grateful for a weekend set aside to actually be thankful together. So grateful for a family like ours. We may not be perfect. We may not always get along. There may be hard times and disappointments. But as we say good bye to Thanksgiving and hello to Christmas, I'm reminded of a saying in a silly children's book that was read too many times this weekend;

I don't care if you believe it,

it's the kind of [home] I live in,

and I hope I never leave it.