If It Doesn't Hurt, It Isn't Real - Part 1

Heidi can be a real pain in the (insert appropriate body part here).  About once each week Heidi listens to my excruciating emotional diarrhea and then rapid-fires gut-wrenching questions at me until my confused and exhausted brain vomits the real truth behind my freakishly ridiculous belief system.  And I pay her to do this to me.

A couple of weeks ago this oh-so-fun process resulted in me blurting out this mind-blowing statement:

If it doesn't hurt, it isn't real.

Originally, this was in response to her automatic-weapon-line of questions about how I know I've given enough.  I've been living under the belief that "sacrifice," as described by pastors and church folk I know (and, thus, I assumed, Scripture) doesn't count if it doesn't make me suffer some kind of pain or loss.  So, Heidi assigned me the homework of "exploring that some more."

Here's what I discovered during this "exploration":

1. The word sacrifice comes to the English language via Old French from the Latin word sacrificium, from sacer which means "holy" and facere which means "to make."  Thus, sacrifice actually means "to make holy," not "give until it hurts."
2. In the Old Testament, God required sacrifices from His people, BUT He had different requirements from different classes of people, i.e., the rich gave cows, the middle-class gave goats, the poor gave birds.  He didn't ask for something they just couldn't afford.  
3. Also, sacrifices resulted in a delicious meal.  After the animal was burned, it was eaten, so it wasn't just thrown away.  It was enjoyed.
4. God ultimately sacrificed His Son.  They did suffer the pain of separation, of a humble human life, and of a torturous death.  However, they did this knowing all along that it was temporary and that the Son would live again.  His resurrection would bring joy.
5. Christ's sacrifice was not only enough, but all throughout Scripture God makes it crystal clear that He doesn't want our stuff.  He wants our broken and contrite heart.  He wants our obedience.  He loves a cheerful giver.  His yoke is easy and His burden is light.

"But what about the old lady who gave two coins and Jesus said that she was better than the Jewish leaders who gave a lot of money.  He liked her sacrifice."

Go spelunking through that section of the Gospels.  I discovered it was couched in a lot of stories about how much Jesus hated the burden that the Jewish leaders had placed on His people by adding to His Father's laws but that the leaders didn't really observe themselves.  He got so peeved about it that He went ballistic in the temple courtyard and knocked over the "get your sacrifice here" stands that folks were using to take advantage these burdened, weary souls.  Jesus didn't want that poor old lady to give away all her money and then go home to die.  He pitied her.  He loved her, and He ultimately died to free her from that tyranny.

So it all comes down to this:  I don't have to sacrifice.  

I'm A-OK in God's eyes if I never give or do one single thing.  Jesus' blood was all it takes for me to be accepted and adopted into the Father's family.  I can run right into that throne room and hop up on Daddy's lap any time I want. He's not the host of some Heavenly home where I'm obligated to bring a polite gift for the privilege of dining at His table.  He's my DAD.  There's no sacrifice, regardless of how painful it is to offer, that can make Him love me more than He already does.  

But just like my kids are giving me a gift this Christmas and telling me how much I'm going to like it, and just like the way I enjoy knowing that I have chosen a gift that will touch my earthly father's heart, I WANT to give my best to God.  I WANT to show Him I love Him.  I WANT to make Him smile...but watching His little girl suffer to do so isn't what He wants.  Knowing that my kids are going to suffer if they give me a gift would break my heart, and my Heavenly Daddy is no different.

Jesus' sacrifice made me holy, and all I have to do to make our Daddy happy is live like I believe that.

Minorities, Majorities and Legalities

I grew up in the rural south, my hometown is divided by railroad tracks, and the white kids all went to the private school specifically established as a way to keep the races separated.  You would be hard-pressed to find a more stereotypical setting for racial prejudices to be fostered, and this was only 30 years ago.

My parents, for all their quirks and faults, did an excellent job of teaching me that skin color is simply a physical feature.  It has nothing to do with the value of a human being, and I was told that if I had to describe someone's physical appearance I should do just that, i.e., "She is tall with black, curly hair and medium brown skin," or "She is short, with red hair, pale skin and freckles."  Because I had never seen a person with actual black or white skin, I never used those terms. I was also taught to never assume I knew someone's heritage.  If I wanted to label someone according to ethnicity, I should ask the person first. My parents did a great job with the whole race thing, and I am very grateful for that.

My parents also defied the scholastic separation in our little town and sent me to the public school.  I started out as one of about eight "pale-skinned," "European-Americans" in my grade, but I finished as the only "white" student in my class.  I'm not really sure what happened to the other students who shared my lower level of melanin.  They may have moved, dropped-out, or switched to the private school, but I never really worried about it.  I had friends.  I liked my teachers.  It was all good.

That is the background I bring to this whole Ferguson debacle.  Everything in me wants to just ignore it all and pretend it doesn't affect me.  That would render me an ostrich, however, and I am definitely NOT a large bird.

I want to believe things are better now than they were 30 years ago.  I want to believe that we have grown in our understanding of racial divides and fears.  I want to believe that these events are anomalies, and that our nation is overcoming these base instincts to fear that which is different and to lash out at those whom we fear.  Is it naive to choose to believe this?  Is it foolish to dream of a more enlightened and understanding world?  I would rather be a fool for Christ...

I currently live in a home with students from eight different countries.  Our skin covers the spectrum of pigment hues.  It is beautiful here in our little sub-culture.  We are a family drawn together by a common bond; friendship.  All of these students worked diligently to qualify for scholarships and grants and various fundings to study in the United States.  They jumped through every hoop required to come here legally,  and they obey the rules set forth in their visas.  They appreciate the opportunity they have worked so hard to obtain, and they are grateful to God for His goodness.

I wonder, and will one day work up the courage to ask, what they think about all of the squabbles we have as a nation, about police brutality and prejudicially motivated riots, about our granting the rights of citizens to those who fled their impoverished and/or violent homelands and came to the U.S. illegally in search of a better life, about how we look at each other and judge each other and convict each other and punish each other without even meeting each other, about how we are a nation based on Judeo-Christian beliefs yet can't muster even the smallest measure of grace or mercy for our fellow countrymen.

I will continue to pray, not for Ferguson, not for justice, nor for immigration reform.  I will continue to pray that our country will believe and live these words...Oh, if we could only live this out:

1Therefore if you have any encouragement from being united with Christ, if any comfort from his love, if any common sharing in the Spirit, if any tenderness and compassion, 2then make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and of one mind. 3Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, 4not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others.

5In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus:

6Who, being in very nature^a God,

did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage;

7rather, he made himself nothing

by taking the very nature^b of a servant,

being made in human likeness.

8And being found in appearance as a man,

he humbled himself

by becoming obedient to death—

even death on a cross!

9Therefore God exalted him to the highest place

and gave him the name that is above every name,

10that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow,

in heaven and on earth and under the earth,

11and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord,

to the glory of God the Father.

12Therefore, my dear friends, as you have always obeyed—not only in my presence, but now much more in my absence—continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling, 13for it is God who works in you to will and to act in order to fulfill his good purpose.

14Do everything without grumbling or arguing, 15so that you may become blameless and pure, “children of God without fault in a warped and crooked generation.”^c Then you will shine among them like stars in the sky 16as you hold firmly to the word of life. And then I will be able to boast on the day of Christ that I did not run or labor in vain. 17But even if I am being poured out like a drink offering on the sacrifice and service coming from your faith, I am glad and rejoice with all of you. 18So you too should be glad and rejoice with me.

Lessons From the Trail

Last week I had the privilege of being a main character in a friend's dream.  Well...actually, I was the heroine in a dream I didn't even know I had, but it definitely all started in my friend's head, for sure.  Hiking on the Appalachian Trail never even entered my sphere of consciousness, except perhaps when binge-watching Criminal Minds on Netflix, yet there I was...backpacking in northern Georgia.

I learned many things on this road trip, most of which I will address in another much-more-serious blog post.  Today, however, I will apply the wise words of my sage, old grandmother, "Learn to laugh at yourself, Monica.  Everybody else is!"

1.  When determining whether or not to set out on your hike, look at the sky.  If the sky is a dark shade of gray or if there is water falling from said, dark sky, stay inside your warm, cozy lodge room and enjoy the view of the mountains from behind insulated glass.

2.  Should you choose to ignore lesson #1 or somehow fail to realize there is water falling from the darkened sky, do not, under any circumstances, buy your rain gear from the world's largest retailer.  That big yellow smiley face is actually laughing his bright, shiny a$$ off at the thought of you getting soaked to the skin in your crappy rain coat and pants that inspired these words from my friend, "You know, you kinda look like a miniature sasquatch from the back."

3.  When wearing said rain gear, you will get wet.  As I learned on this excursion, "wet" is the state of having your clothing saturated with water that fell from the sky.

4.  Even though I have a fairly working knowledge of this "wet" concept, when the temperature is at or below freezing it can be extremely difficult to recognize the difference between "frozen" and "wet."

5.  Upon reaching your desired stopping point on the trail and setting up your microscopic tent, if your friend touches you and says, "You are wet.  Take off your clothes," she is not, in fact, attempting to take your relationship to a new and uncomfortable level.

6.  While it seems to fly in the face of all things reasonable, getting naked in a tent in the woods after wearing wet clothing for six hours can only be compared to a state of complete and utter ecstasy...unicorns and fairies float through the air as rainbows fill the tent with psychedelic light. (Your friend is, in fact, a freaking GENIUS!)

7.  While your friend is a backpacking genius, you will still be trying to thaw out your brain.  Do not attempt to make any life-altering decisions during this time of complete nirvana, such as, "Where should I place these nalgene bottles full of boiling water that my friend is telling me to put in my sleeping bag with me?"  (Hint:  next to your bare skin is the wrong answer.)

8.  "Next to your bare skin" is ALSO the wrong answer regarding where to place the "Hot Hands" warming pads your friend remembered to bring.  Actually, "Next to your bare skin" seems to be the wrong answer to a LOT of life's more difficult questions...

9.  Backpacking "food," and I do use that term loosely, begins in a freeze-dried state and is, thus, quite light and easy to carry.  By adding boiling water to the air-tight, zipper-sealed packet, the "food" is returned to its pre-freeze-dried state,and although it will smell and taste remarkably like cardboard and conjure images of  abandoned puppies and unhappy children, it will provide calories for your body to burn.

10.  Should you have the brilliant decision to use said packet of food as yet another warming device in your sleeping bag, do not, I shall repeat that: DO NOT sit on this packet regardless of how wonderful a warm bum sounds at the time.

11.  After exercising your right to be an idiot, rather than using your extending-handle, camping spork to scoop the "Pineapple, Orange Chicken and Rice" back into the surprisingly sharp-edged, metal, zipper pouch, it is much easier and more efficient to simply use your spork to eat the "food" directly from your sleeping bag, regardless of the convulsive laughing emanating from the sleeping bag next to you.

12.  Tremendous benefits actually result from squirting your entire meal into your sleeping bag.  Hanging your food supply to protect it from bears is rendered unnecessary, as you have now transformed yourself into a living, breathing, food sack and will, thereby, attract all wildlife within a 200 mile radius.  All other food supplies are now completely safe from any unwanted attention.

13.  And finally, make sure your hiking buddy has a cell phone, so she can text the local trail shuttle service to get you the HE!! off that mountain at the butt-crack of dawn the next morning!!!!!!

This has been, "Lessons From the Trail."  I pray these lessons serve you well on all your future backpacking adventures.

90 days, 9 months....Whatever

I wish I had a dollar for every time I've tried to read the Bible from start to finish.  I'd have like...okay, maybe 15 bucks.  The truth is, I've probably read most of the Bible multiple times, but I had never done that thing that makes you a truly committed Christian; you know, a dyed in the wool, Jesus-freaky, card-carrying Believer.  That one elusive check-mark on my list of "How to be a Spiritually Superior Being" left a big gaping hole in my soul.

Oh, I had the very best of intentions.  I have purchased several "Through the Bible" 365-day versions of the Good Book, as well as accompanying devo's and journals in which to record all of my inspired insights.  In my heart and mind, this has been the most epic failure of my entire eternal life, and not being able to cross this item off my list left me feeling like a Grade-A LOSER.

Somewhere around the book of Numbers, I just fall apart.  For whatever reason, be it boredom or rebellion, around the 5th chapter of eight-syllable names, my brain goes numb, and I find myself mentally redecorating every room of my home...as well as my friends' homes, too!

Which bring me to this portion of my Health Journey; my spiritual health.

Back in February of this year (2014), I decided, once again, to take up this gauntlet and trudge through God's Holy Word.  I even chose a truly righteous challenge and began a 90-day (that's right NINETY day...THREE month) reading plan on my oh-so-handy YouVersion Bible App (droid, not iphone, for those who care).  I sat down with my coffee and 5.whatever screen and read, "In the beginning..." aaaaaaaaand 15 chapters later, my mental living room was absolutely gorgeous!  WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?!

That's when I noticed the little megaphone at the bottom of my screen.  Tapping on that tiny icon, I discovered the secret to my perplexing dilemma and was introduced to "mellow voice man," the answer to my spiritual brain fog,  With knitting in hand and Mr. Mellow on my phone, I was able to keep my hands busy and my mind focused.  I have always considered myself a visual person, but gosh darnit if I'm not an auditory/kinesthetic learner.  Who knew?  (Okay, probably God and anyone who has ever tried to teach me anything...but it was brand-new info to me!)

Yesterday, November 9, 2014, I finally completed my long-coveted title of "Bible Reader" (or Listener, as the case may be).  No, I didn't do it in 90 days.  In fact I hit the "reset" button so many times my phone started laughing at me, but I did finish and in less than a year.

...Well...except for Numbers.  Even mellow-voice-man couldn't get me through it.  Sorry God.  I married an accountant for a reason, you know : )

Give me back my burden!

Last week I went for a very ambitious hike.  In retrospect, it was beyond me.  Being super stubborn with the very hardest of heads, I did it, though.  Truthfully, I am pretty stinkin' proud of my accomplishment, and am very grateful to my friend for encouraging me to hike 10 miles over the rivers and through the woods, and over the mountains and under the fallen trees, and through the boulders and under the stars...then reversing the 10 mile trek the next day.  Even though I injured my knee and have hobbled for a few days, it was still a great adventure, and I can't wait to do it again...well, maybe a slightly more moderate version at least!

Since I started this health journey I've been learning so much about myself.  A lot of these lessons are painful...much like my class on recognizing my hiking limitations...ha!  There are times when I'd just as soon pack up my school books and go home, back to the comfort of the familiar, listening to the lies I've told myself for years, and accepting that I'm never going to change...basically, surrendering to the enemy.

Picking up a 30 lb. pack filled with life's basic necessities was a very tangible reminder of two vitally important realities, and one of the reasons I want to keep strapping that pack on and trekking through the woods is to be sure I won't forget them.

The first object lesson from that pack is quite physical.  Since beginning my effort to get on with living or get on with dying, I have lost @ 30 lbs.  Strapping on that back pack reminded me of the extra weight I carried around on a daily basis for many years.  Those extra 30 lbs. suddenly felt like a boulder on my shoulders.  I adjusted the weight, shifted my straps, tightened and loosened buckles and zippers trying to make the extra burden feel less cumbersome, but my knees knew the difference regardless of any relief my shoulders or back experienced.

It would be so easy to go back to my old way of eating and sitting.  I love food.  It tastes good.  It feels good.  Everything about it is warm and fuzzy...everything except the extra poundage.  I have a choice about picking up that back pack, and I have a choice about picking up that donut, muffin, cookie, ice cream... My joints and organs, tendons and ligaments are worth the effort it takes to only pick up those thirty pounds when I'm heading down the trail to see more of God's beautiful creation.

But this journey isn't just about making my butt smaller or my muscles firmer.  Its about my overall health...physical, mental, emotional and spiritual.  Each week I not only exercise and watch what I eat, I also see a counselor, spend time in God's Word, and am now part of a support group for women who are carrying around the same "weight" I have been all these years.

Going through my gear after that hike, trying to figure out what is absolutely necessary and what I could get rid of, was such a vivid reminder of what I'm doing with my emotional and spiritual baggage as well.  Some of what I carry with me is, in fact, necessary, but thanks to Jesus, it isn't heavy.  If it wasn't for these earthly burdens, I wouldn't be the person I am today.  I wouldn't know how to empathize with other hurting souls.  I would be able to look the other way and....well, I just wouldn't care.  But that yoke is easy, and that burden is light.

I choose to keep those items, the ones I need to be the person Jesus created me to be.  The rest, I'm learning to take out and to leave them on the side of the trail.  I suppose at any point, I can turn around and pick them back up, stuff them into my pack and trudge through life with the weight of the world on my back.

I don't want to do that.  Its time to get on with living.

You Don't Get a 20 Year Husband Without 20 Years of Work

Yesterday I was having a lovely conversation with an international student.  She is a wonderful young woman; brilliant, kind, gentle and honest.

She was telling me about her father, and I was quite struck by how similar he is to my husband.  They are both men who work tirelessly for their families.  Her father worked an overnight job for many years, and would, upon returning home in the morning, escort his children to school.  He is strict, but loving, and she knows he would do anything for his family.  Her description of her father included this phrase, "His family is the most important thing in his life."  I was so pleased to be able to say in response, without any hesitation, and in complete sincerity, "My husband is so like your father.  Faith and family are the most important things to him."

Later, I was reading a few social media posts and articles shared by young women I know.  These post were all about finding the right man or tips on relationships.  As often happens, I found myself reminiscing about my own marriage, and how it has blossomed through the years.

The truth is, I have a highly coveted thing: a great marriage; however, it hasn't been an easy journey.  If I could give young women one piece of relationship advice it would be this, "You don't get a 20 year husband without 20 years of work."

I know a LOT of young ladies who admire their fathers.  (I do know just as many who don't, but that's another blog post!)  These women know what a good man is supposed to look like.  They know because they've watched their daddy for years, and now that they're ready to commit their hearts to another man, they expect him to be like their Dad.  What they don't realize is, they didn't know their father when he was a 22 year-old kid just starting down his grown-up pathway.  They are comparing the young men they know to a man who has spent a lifetime making mistakes, climbing mountains, conquering demons, and loving one woman and their children.

That's just not a fair comparison.

Next time you see your mom, ask her what your dad was like when they first met.  Ask her about some of those times when she wished he would be the spiritual leader she pictured in their dreams or read about in the plethora of Christian relationship books on the shelves these days.  Ask her about those times when she thought he would never grow up, but she'd be stuck with a 12-year-old trapped inside a man's body forever.

Then talk to the moms of 20-something sons.  Ask her about the changes and growth she's seen in her boys.  Ask her about the prayers she's prayed through the years; prayers that her children would grow closer to the Lord and more responsible in their lives.  Ask her about the answers to those prayers through the years.

If you're feeling truly brave, talk to some young men about their moms.  Ask them about how good they cook, or how tender, loving and nurturing they are.  Ask them about how adept she is at taking care of her family and balancing all the various aspects of her very busy life.

How do you measure up?

One day, you will have a 20-year husband and father...One day... in about 20 years.  It is SO worth the time.  It is SO worth the effort.  It really is.

Another V-8 Moment

Another beautiful part of my health journey is a dear woman, Hilary, who teaches Holy Yoga two mornings per week.  After spending a few weeks in a traditional yoga class, complete with buddhas and chanting, I discovered this sweet lady teaching yoga with a slightly different mind-set.  With a back-drop of intensity appropriate worship music, Hilary guides us through yoga poses that require focused breathing, balance, and strength, interspersed with Scripture and prayer.  It is an amazing time of full-body worship, and I LOVE it!

Today, on a Monday no less, I woke up at 6:14 with just 16 minutes to dress and fly to yoga class.  I ran in quite flustered, but Hilary quickly quieted us all and led us through a wonderfully intense, sweaty series of moves that left me feeling fully alive and powerful.  During the cool-down time of relaxation at the end of the teaching, Hilary read the story (see below) in John 5 about the healing at the pool, when Jesus saw a disabled man who couldn't make it into the healing waters on his own.  Jesus simply said to him, "You're healed.  Take up your mat and walk."

As I lay there, eyes closed, feeling my tired body relax into my own mat, I had a vision of the man jumping up and pushing his way to the pool to get in and be healed.  Crazy, right?  Jesus had just healed him.  He was fully, totally, completely, utterly healed.  How nuts would he have been to then use that power he'd been given to push past all those people to immerse himself in that pool?  

Yet, I realized that is what I constantly find myself doing.  Rather than simply accepting that I am completely healed, totally forgiven, fully accepted, utterly loved, I continue to believe I have to use God's power to heal myself.  Seeing that now in writing, I can't believe how ridiculous it sounds.  

How different would my life be if I chose to believe I am already 100% healed rather than begging God for the strength to heal myself?  What if I chose to live out of God's strength instead of my own?  What if I saw everyone else the same way...fully healed?  Hmmmmm?

The Healing at the Pool

5 Some time later, Jesus went up to Jerusalem for one of the Jewish festivals. 2 Now there is in Jerusalem near the Sheep Gate a pool, which in Aramaic is called Bethesda[a]and which is surrounded by five covered colonnades. 3 Here a great number of disabled people used to lie—the blind, the lame, the paralyzed. [4] [b] 5 One who was there had been an invalid for thirty-eight years. 6 When Jesus saw him lying there and learned that he had been in this condition for a long time, he asked him, “Do you want to get well?”

7 “Sir,” the invalid replied, “I have no one to help me into the pool when the water is stirred. While I am trying to get in, someone else goes down ahead of me.”

8 Then Jesus said to him, “Get up! Pick up your mat and walk.” 9 At once the man was cured; he picked up his mat and walked.