About a month ago on a Sunday, we decided to go to McDonalds for some sustenance, if you can call it that, after church. Ordinarily I use our debit card; I’ve gotten out of the habit of carrying that all too convenient cash. And of course, these days it is never a problem. There are no more merchants, however remote, that are cash only. That being the case, when someone tells you that they cannot accept debit cards for payment due to a faulty card scanner, it usually takes one by surprise. As quick as I am, I was no exception on this particular Sunday. After the drive thru operator told me that “The machine broke” I responded with the less than intelligent remark: “Oh. So you can’t take them at all?” Yes, it was a stupid question. If the machine is broken, he could not use it. At that moment in time all was well with the world. It was mildly frustrating because I was going to have to come up with an alternate plan, which is not my favorite thing to do, but I was handling this imposition pretty well considering. But then it happened. His response brought my peaceful and content attitude crashing down around me. He responded to my despondent question by saying “That’s what the machine broke mean.”
Despite having spent the last 2 hours absorbed in worship, prayer and learning about the things of God, and even more ironically, forgiveness, I snapped on the poor high school drop out. I responded to him as follows: “#$@% you! I don’t need the smart @#$# attitude #@#$$^&&$#% !@#% #$% ^& # !” Feeling only slightly better, I pressed down rather hard on the gas pedal of my 3000 pound tough guy mini-van and proceeded to the drive thru window with the full intention of accosting my disrespectful friend, and continuing to spew my expletives at him, and perhaps his manager as well. Unfortunately, there was another vehicle parked at the window waiting, unassumingly, for his order. Apparently he had cash. I made the decision to move on, mostly due to the fact that my wife was less than happy with my behavior, and also because my 3 year old son had apparently gotten upset with the man as well, and decided that he should perhaps use some of the same words that I had to express his discontent. Realizing that this exchange between he and I could take some time, and understanding that we were all tired and hungry, I moved on. I will mention here that the fact that the man standing in the drive thru window wearing the head set, was a very large, very muscular and very mean looking black man had nothing to do with my decision not to confront him. I only mention that to eliminate any possible confusion about my masculinity.
I am willing to bet that the very large, very muscular, black man did not think of me or our exchange again. But I did. Oh yes I did. In fact, I thought of nothing else for nearly 30 minutes. Through the course of finding a Jack’s restaurant nearby, who had a working credit card machine and were very friendly by the way, and ordering our food, I continued to steam. I considered my options. I could call the store and speak to his manager. I could call the national complaint hot line. I could write a letter to the owner of the franchise. I could file a complaint to the BBB. Oh yes, I would make him sorry. He would rue the day he came into contact with a behemoth like me! Rue it! I would make sure that he would lose his 7 dollar and hour, graveyard shift, miserable existence of a job, thereby forcing him to go down the street a block or two and get another 7 dollar an hour, graveyard shift, miserable existence of a job! I would ruin his life! At least for a few hours.
A little while later, while driving down the freeway, my anger started to ease a little bit, at least to the point that I was capable of briefly thinking about something else. Beth and I started talking about the service and what we had learned. As I mentioned, the entire message was about forgiveness and finally, after nearly 30 minutes of extreme rage, or perhaps 33+ years of existence, it occurred to me that I’m a complete moron. I realized that I didn’t know the first thing about the very large, very muscular black man. What would drive a very large, very muscular black man to work the graveyard shift at a McDonalds? It is certainly not unreasonable to think that a very large, very muscular black man could have been laid off from a much better job in this economy. Maybe the graveyard shift at McDonalds was the first, or only, source of income he could find to support his very large, very muscular family. Maybe not. Maybe he was lazy and just doing the absolute minimum necessary to support his drug habit. How would I know? Maybe it was his second or third job. Maybe he had been working for 20 hours straight to support his very large, very muscular sick mother and was completely exhausted. Maybe I was the 401st person to ask the same stupid question, and he just couldn’t take it anymore. If I were in his shoes, I would turn into the very same #@$@#$^ that I had called him.
The point is that I had let this exchange sour my previously good mood. I was consumed with a negative emotion for 30 minutes that I will never get back because someone I didn’t know was disrespectful to me. We’ve all been there, but what happens if we raise the stakes a little? What if someone you know, or someone you are close to hurts you? Once I realized what I was doing, it was pretty easy to let the very large, very muscular black man off the hook, but it’s not so easy when it’s someone you are close to.
I’ve been mired down in anger for an extended period of time before. I have been unwilling, or unable to forgive someone I was supposed to be close to. I’m not sure there are some magic words that will allow you to let things go just that easily. I am certain, however, that it is a whole lot more difficult if you are not in a close walk with the Lord. If you have accepted God’s forgiveness for yourself, knowing what you have done in your lifetime, it because much easier to forgive someone else for being human. You may not understand how someone else thinks, or what would make them do something hurtful to you, but it shouldn’t be so hard to see how it can happen to anyone. Just look in the mirror. None of us are blameless. There are people out there that you have hurt, and they have spent time wondering what would make you do it to them, and they are having just as much trouble understanding it as you are. We are all so individualistic, so different from head to toe, that it is impossible for each of us to understand everyone.
I have just recently understood the drawbacks of being so angry with someone that you should be close to that you take 1 or more steps back from that relationship. We all have, or will have at some point, something to offer. There may be periods in our lives where whatever positive things we have to offer others gets buried under circumstances and difficulty in our lives, but eventually we usually move past it. Sure, there are exceptions. There are people that never learn, that never grasp the importance of treating people well; but those people will end up alone anyway. If you harbor resentment toward them, despite it being impossible to have a relationship with the, who are you hurting? You’re not hurting them. They are doing that to themselves. But maybe one day, they will have a moment of clarity and realize what they have done to themselves, and if you have not forgiven them then you won’t be there for them when they come out of their funk. The only reason it’s important to forgive them, and to be there for them when, or if, they come out of it is that one day you might be the one in a funk. You might need a little bit of patience.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
God and a cup of coffee
I believe in God. In fact, I've believed in him for as long as I can remember. His existence has never come in to question. My mom was the most spiritual woman I've ever been in contact with. Her walk with God was unquestionable, and uncanny. There were many times growing up that I thought God told on me, because there was no way she could have known what I'd done if God hadn't ratted me out.
I knew he existed, but for quite a few years, I didn't care.
Everyone has problems; things that go wrong or are more difficult than they should be, and I am not so self absorbed as to pretend that mine are somehow worse. That being said, I feel like I've had more than my share of "bad luck". Foreclosures, repossessions, layoffs, firings, flat tires, you name it. My parents divorced, my dad hasn't put much effort into having a relationship with me, my daughter was still born and as a result suffers from severe cerebral palsy and my mom died way too young. I'm not looking for a pity party, saying all of that is to simply say that I justified a deep, severe anger at a God who allowed these things to happen to me constantly. I know that bad things happen, I realize that people die young, I know that Brynn is not the only child to go through an injury at birth and to suffer like she does. I also realize that a lot of the misfortunes in my life have been brought on by myself. I should have handled money better, or shouldn't have burned all of the tread off of the tires, but my thought process was that everyone is immature at some point, and yet all of my immaturity seemed to catch up with me every single time. In other words, life isn't fair.
At some points during all of this I made an active effort to get my life together. I knew that I wasn't living like I should and that it was I who had forsaken God, not the other way around. I got back in to church, I started reading the Bible and praying, I even sought counsel through the church, which was certainly not easy for me to do. It seemed like each time I sought him, things got a lot harder, fast. I felt like I had left His house to "sew my seed" and then when I came home, He started punishing me for the sins I had committed while I was away as soon as I had walked through the door.
God had given me this fantastic opportunity to be a great parent to a special needs child, then prevented me from being able to provide for her like I should at every turn. When I thought things started to improve financially, I would lose my job...again. I overhauled the way that I handled money, making enormous sacrifices for a long time, but I would still get buried under financial pressure. I cut a lot of sin out of my life, but I would still get hurt. My mother told me once that when Satan feels like he's got you under his thumb, he leaves you alone, but as soon as you make a step towards God, he starts throwing his darts again. It makes sense, and I believe that, but my circumstances didn't change whether I was living the way I wanted to or trying to live the way God wanted me to.
When most people accept Christ or seek out a relationship with Him that has been dormant, there is a defining moment; something catastrophic in their life that makes them realize that they need Him. In my case, catastrophe is the norm. What I have come to realize, however, is that when I would seek Him out previously it was nothing more than a bargaining chip for me. I was only doing the bare minimum for Him, and only to get something in return. I wanted a little peace; just a taste of victory rather than endless and perpetual defeat. But I wasn't willing to "sell out" to God. I couldn't see myself as the "Bible thumping holy roller". I have a problem with authority and being told what to do, and I didn't want to give myself up to that. I envisioned Christianity as a life of servitude and submission to someone superior to me, and that was too much for me to handle. I'm just not that person.
I thought that God was this monster that wanted to keep me under His thumb. I thought He wanted to dictate my every move and desire. He was a tyrant who wanted to control everyone and take all of the good things in life away from me. He convinced everyone that He only wanted the best for us and that if we did things for Him that He would take care of us, but the minute you make a decision for yourself, He would drop the anvil on your head. He made false promises and lied to me.
The truth is something completely different. I can not believe that for some many years I was so dense and deceived. He isn't asking for servitude from someone who isn't willing, like a slave that was bought, He's asking for a cup of coffee.
My wife and I are big coffee drinkers. We have regular in the morning and decaf every night. I love my wife immensely. She's the most important thing to me. But love is more than just an emotion, it's a verb. It's something you DO, not something you feel. We have this rule in our house, He who makes the pot, is not required to prepare the first cup of coffee. After the first cup of coffee is made, and brought to the pot-maker, the following cups are made on a rotation. But sometimes, Beth is exceptionally tired. Sometimes her back hurts. Sometimes she just doesn't want to get up off of the sofa after working. Every now and then, I break the coffee rule. I'll make the pot, then fix the first cup too, just so that she doesn't have to get up. She does it for me sometimes too, though I'd argue not near as often.
I have come to understand that what God is looking for is a relationship. It's no more complicated than that. Why else would He have created us? He wants to love us, as a verb. He wants us to love Him, as a verb. Sometimes He has to take things away from us, or allow things to happen that hurt, but it's not because He's vengeful, it is always for a purpose. If you believe that God knows all and sees all, and if you accept that He wants to have a relationship with us, then you have to believe that what He does is for us, not to us.
I don't know what the purpose is for a vast majority of the things that have happened to me. It's a little comforting to me that I don't have to. If He loves me, and wants a relationship with me, I don't have to worry about His purpose because I know it's something good. Maybe His purpose was for me to write this note. Maybe it will mean something to someone going through something similar. Maybe not; maybe I'm just writing this for me so that I can better understand the way I feel about it. The point is, I may never know, but if I'm going to retain my sanity, I have to believe there is a reason for it. And if God wants a relationship with someone as useless as me, I can do that. I have a lot of work to do. I'm not going to be a different person tomorrow, but I also think that life is a journey rather than a destination, and a walk with God can be no different. Besides, the only thing God wants me to change is the things that I do, not the person that I am.
I knew he existed, but for quite a few years, I didn't care.
Everyone has problems; things that go wrong or are more difficult than they should be, and I am not so self absorbed as to pretend that mine are somehow worse. That being said, I feel like I've had more than my share of "bad luck". Foreclosures, repossessions, layoffs, firings, flat tires, you name it. My parents divorced, my dad hasn't put much effort into having a relationship with me, my daughter was still born and as a result suffers from severe cerebral palsy and my mom died way too young. I'm not looking for a pity party, saying all of that is to simply say that I justified a deep, severe anger at a God who allowed these things to happen to me constantly. I know that bad things happen, I realize that people die young, I know that Brynn is not the only child to go through an injury at birth and to suffer like she does. I also realize that a lot of the misfortunes in my life have been brought on by myself. I should have handled money better, or shouldn't have burned all of the tread off of the tires, but my thought process was that everyone is immature at some point, and yet all of my immaturity seemed to catch up with me every single time. In other words, life isn't fair.
At some points during all of this I made an active effort to get my life together. I knew that I wasn't living like I should and that it was I who had forsaken God, not the other way around. I got back in to church, I started reading the Bible and praying, I even sought counsel through the church, which was certainly not easy for me to do. It seemed like each time I sought him, things got a lot harder, fast. I felt like I had left His house to "sew my seed" and then when I came home, He started punishing me for the sins I had committed while I was away as soon as I had walked through the door.
God had given me this fantastic opportunity to be a great parent to a special needs child, then prevented me from being able to provide for her like I should at every turn. When I thought things started to improve financially, I would lose my job...again. I overhauled the way that I handled money, making enormous sacrifices for a long time, but I would still get buried under financial pressure. I cut a lot of sin out of my life, but I would still get hurt. My mother told me once that when Satan feels like he's got you under his thumb, he leaves you alone, but as soon as you make a step towards God, he starts throwing his darts again. It makes sense, and I believe that, but my circumstances didn't change whether I was living the way I wanted to or trying to live the way God wanted me to.
When most people accept Christ or seek out a relationship with Him that has been dormant, there is a defining moment; something catastrophic in their life that makes them realize that they need Him. In my case, catastrophe is the norm. What I have come to realize, however, is that when I would seek Him out previously it was nothing more than a bargaining chip for me. I was only doing the bare minimum for Him, and only to get something in return. I wanted a little peace; just a taste of victory rather than endless and perpetual defeat. But I wasn't willing to "sell out" to God. I couldn't see myself as the "Bible thumping holy roller". I have a problem with authority and being told what to do, and I didn't want to give myself up to that. I envisioned Christianity as a life of servitude and submission to someone superior to me, and that was too much for me to handle. I'm just not that person.
I thought that God was this monster that wanted to keep me under His thumb. I thought He wanted to dictate my every move and desire. He was a tyrant who wanted to control everyone and take all of the good things in life away from me. He convinced everyone that He only wanted the best for us and that if we did things for Him that He would take care of us, but the minute you make a decision for yourself, He would drop the anvil on your head. He made false promises and lied to me.
The truth is something completely different. I can not believe that for some many years I was so dense and deceived. He isn't asking for servitude from someone who isn't willing, like a slave that was bought, He's asking for a cup of coffee.
My wife and I are big coffee drinkers. We have regular in the morning and decaf every night. I love my wife immensely. She's the most important thing to me. But love is more than just an emotion, it's a verb. It's something you DO, not something you feel. We have this rule in our house, He who makes the pot, is not required to prepare the first cup of coffee. After the first cup of coffee is made, and brought to the pot-maker, the following cups are made on a rotation. But sometimes, Beth is exceptionally tired. Sometimes her back hurts. Sometimes she just doesn't want to get up off of the sofa after working. Every now and then, I break the coffee rule. I'll make the pot, then fix the first cup too, just so that she doesn't have to get up. She does it for me sometimes too, though I'd argue not near as often.
I have come to understand that what God is looking for is a relationship. It's no more complicated than that. Why else would He have created us? He wants to love us, as a verb. He wants us to love Him, as a verb. Sometimes He has to take things away from us, or allow things to happen that hurt, but it's not because He's vengeful, it is always for a purpose. If you believe that God knows all and sees all, and if you accept that He wants to have a relationship with us, then you have to believe that what He does is for us, not to us.
I don't know what the purpose is for a vast majority of the things that have happened to me. It's a little comforting to me that I don't have to. If He loves me, and wants a relationship with me, I don't have to worry about His purpose because I know it's something good. Maybe His purpose was for me to write this note. Maybe it will mean something to someone going through something similar. Maybe not; maybe I'm just writing this for me so that I can better understand the way I feel about it. The point is, I may never know, but if I'm going to retain my sanity, I have to believe there is a reason for it. And if God wants a relationship with someone as useless as me, I can do that. I have a lot of work to do. I'm not going to be a different person tomorrow, but I also think that life is a journey rather than a destination, and a walk with God can be no different. Besides, the only thing God wants me to change is the things that I do, not the person that I am.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Why do bad things happen to good people?
It's a common question. I've asked myself why bad things happen to good people all the time. For that matter, it seems like good things happen to bad people too. It's just been recently that I've discovered the answer. I can't take credit for it unfortunately. As much as I'd like to inflate your perception of my level of wisdom, the answer was handed to me in church the other day. The truth is that there are no good people. There are just people.
The Bible says that all have sinned, but despite your religious beliefs, or lack thereof, if you were to objectively examine your life I think that everyone would realize that you have opened yourself up for whatever you are going through. The truth is that by nature humans are pretty despicable beings. We're selfish, judgmental, critical of others and no one can examine their life decisions throughout their existence and give themselves an A. We've all hurt someone, both intentionally, and unintentionally. We've all lied, and do so regularly. We've all put our needs before someone else. You can't use the adage that life isn't fair, and in the same breath expect Karma to be. Even if you are one of the better creations, who spends their whole life trying to serve other people, you have still had moments of weakness or anger.
Then there are the Christians. Why is it that we believe that just because we are forgiven it means that there are no consequences for the sin? If you jump off of a building, your going to hit the ground at some point. There may be a small window of time just after you've taken the leap where all is well. You get the adrenaline rush from falling, you get the cool breeze blowing through you hair and you could take the time to enjoy the great view, but eventually you're going to bite it. And it's going to hurt. A lot. In fact, and this may come as a shock, but I think it's probably worse for us. If you believe that God cares for us, and that He is trying to mold us into His image and make us better people, then you have to believe that He is going to allow bad things to happen to us as consequences out of discipline. It makes sense to me.
I refer to myself as a Nazi regularly. It has nothing to do with bigotry, it's just that I'm really (really, really) hard on my kids. Sometimes I think it's to a fault, but then Kenzi will do something extremely irritating, and I reconsider. The point is, I want them to be great kids, I enjoy having people tell me how well behaved they are. I like going to restaurants or grocery stores and not dealing with temper tantrums and bringing attention to myself. So I don't let them get away with anything. Everything comes with a consequence. It's gotten to the point that my kids don't even like to hear me call their name. They often jump or flinch when I walk into the room unexpectedly. How much more important is it for an adult?
Brynn, my oldest, has Cerebral Palsy and is confined to a wheel chair. She has suffered the worst case scenario for Karma or sin. She's also a near perfect kid. She's content, satisfied and always quick with a smile. But notice I said near perfect, not perfect. Obviously she can't paint the walls with a dirty diaper like her sister did. She can't put hot wheels down the toilet like her brother. But she can (and has) have a bad attitude. She gets impatient, regularly. She can be lazy and not do things that we knows she is capable of or work hard enough in therapy. Even she requires discipline, and I don't give her a pass either. In fact, we are probably harder on her than the other two, because it's important for her to be patient with us since she can't speak and it takes patience and time for her to get across to us what she wants or needs.
I've also figured out that God's discipline isn't handed down equally. Two people can make the same mistake, or commit the same sin, and the discipline can be grossly different. We've all seen the rich and famous person that can do no wrong, and yet they do wrong constantly. The person that has everything they could possibly want and continues to get more, and yet, they are horrible people. Even more frustrating is watching the saints get beaten down and abused by life.
You can never know how far reaching your actions can be. We've all seen the story of the weakling kid in grade school who was constantly picked on by the bully grow up to be a serial killer in an attempt to get revenge on the world. I can remember several incidents in my past that I have said something or done something that could have caused serious damage to someone else. One example was in junior high. I knew, and very much liked, a girl that was really short. She struggled with weight problems too, and of course I knew it. We were having a conversation about someone else one day though I can't remember who it was about or even what it was about, but some how height was brought up. She was commenting on how short someone was, and without even thinking, I said "Well, you're not exactly long and lanky yourself!". I wasn't referring to her weight. I hadn't even considered it; the only reason I tacked the word lanky in there was because it was part of the saying. You can imagine the backlash. She was instantly in tears, and her friends immediately berated me for saying it. It was completely innocent on my part, but it obviously crushed her. There have been people that sank into anorexia or bulimia for a lot less than that.
You may not think that particular occasion made me a bad person, but it did. It was bad for her. It could have been, and may have been, a pivotal moment in her life, and could easily have had a bad outcome. It would/could have been my fault. I don't think it unreasonable that I deserve some consequence for that, whether under the guise of Karma, or discipline. There was a lesson that I needed to learn from that situation whether the pain I caused was accidental or not.
Most of us live our lives, and do the best we can. The truth is that our best simply isn't good enough. It's not good enough for that customer service agent whose day I ruined by cussing her out over something that wasn't even her fault. It's not good enough for my kids when I get unreasonably impatient with them. It's not good enough for my wife when I don't provide for her like I should. Most importantly, it certainly isn't good enough for a perfect and flawless God.
My best, and your best, just hasn't been good enough since Adam and Eve ate the apple and introduced sin and the consequences thereof to the world. It doesn't make life any easier, it just makes life. The only thing we can do is adjust our attitude about it. We're not kids anymore. We should understand what the word consequence means, and be grateful for the opportunity to better ourselves and thereby better our influence during our time here. Trust me, I know it's not easy. Even as I write this, I am struggling with the concept and trying to fight off feelings of resentment. It's not easy to accept consequences as you suffer them, but you have to believe that some day the lessons we learn from it will help us make better decision, or help someone else make better decisions.
At least, that's the theory I'm going with to help me get through the day. Because I am realizing that if the world were truly just, I would suffer my entire life only to be followed by a very long trip to hell.
The Bible says that all have sinned, but despite your religious beliefs, or lack thereof, if you were to objectively examine your life I think that everyone would realize that you have opened yourself up for whatever you are going through. The truth is that by nature humans are pretty despicable beings. We're selfish, judgmental, critical of others and no one can examine their life decisions throughout their existence and give themselves an A. We've all hurt someone, both intentionally, and unintentionally. We've all lied, and do so regularly. We've all put our needs before someone else. You can't use the adage that life isn't fair, and in the same breath expect Karma to be. Even if you are one of the better creations, who spends their whole life trying to serve other people, you have still had moments of weakness or anger.
Then there are the Christians. Why is it that we believe that just because we are forgiven it means that there are no consequences for the sin? If you jump off of a building, your going to hit the ground at some point. There may be a small window of time just after you've taken the leap where all is well. You get the adrenaline rush from falling, you get the cool breeze blowing through you hair and you could take the time to enjoy the great view, but eventually you're going to bite it. And it's going to hurt. A lot. In fact, and this may come as a shock, but I think it's probably worse for us. If you believe that God cares for us, and that He is trying to mold us into His image and make us better people, then you have to believe that He is going to allow bad things to happen to us as consequences out of discipline. It makes sense to me.
I refer to myself as a Nazi regularly. It has nothing to do with bigotry, it's just that I'm really (really, really) hard on my kids. Sometimes I think it's to a fault, but then Kenzi will do something extremely irritating, and I reconsider. The point is, I want them to be great kids, I enjoy having people tell me how well behaved they are. I like going to restaurants or grocery stores and not dealing with temper tantrums and bringing attention to myself. So I don't let them get away with anything. Everything comes with a consequence. It's gotten to the point that my kids don't even like to hear me call their name. They often jump or flinch when I walk into the room unexpectedly. How much more important is it for an adult?
Brynn, my oldest, has Cerebral Palsy and is confined to a wheel chair. She has suffered the worst case scenario for Karma or sin. She's also a near perfect kid. She's content, satisfied and always quick with a smile. But notice I said near perfect, not perfect. Obviously she can't paint the walls with a dirty diaper like her sister did. She can't put hot wheels down the toilet like her brother. But she can (and has) have a bad attitude. She gets impatient, regularly. She can be lazy and not do things that we knows she is capable of or work hard enough in therapy. Even she requires discipline, and I don't give her a pass either. In fact, we are probably harder on her than the other two, because it's important for her to be patient with us since she can't speak and it takes patience and time for her to get across to us what she wants or needs.
I've also figured out that God's discipline isn't handed down equally. Two people can make the same mistake, or commit the same sin, and the discipline can be grossly different. We've all seen the rich and famous person that can do no wrong, and yet they do wrong constantly. The person that has everything they could possibly want and continues to get more, and yet, they are horrible people. Even more frustrating is watching the saints get beaten down and abused by life.
You can never know how far reaching your actions can be. We've all seen the story of the weakling kid in grade school who was constantly picked on by the bully grow up to be a serial killer in an attempt to get revenge on the world. I can remember several incidents in my past that I have said something or done something that could have caused serious damage to someone else. One example was in junior high. I knew, and very much liked, a girl that was really short. She struggled with weight problems too, and of course I knew it. We were having a conversation about someone else one day though I can't remember who it was about or even what it was about, but some how height was brought up. She was commenting on how short someone was, and without even thinking, I said "Well, you're not exactly long and lanky yourself!". I wasn't referring to her weight. I hadn't even considered it; the only reason I tacked the word lanky in there was because it was part of the saying. You can imagine the backlash. She was instantly in tears, and her friends immediately berated me for saying it. It was completely innocent on my part, but it obviously crushed her. There have been people that sank into anorexia or bulimia for a lot less than that.
You may not think that particular occasion made me a bad person, but it did. It was bad for her. It could have been, and may have been, a pivotal moment in her life, and could easily have had a bad outcome. It would/could have been my fault. I don't think it unreasonable that I deserve some consequence for that, whether under the guise of Karma, or discipline. There was a lesson that I needed to learn from that situation whether the pain I caused was accidental or not.
Most of us live our lives, and do the best we can. The truth is that our best simply isn't good enough. It's not good enough for that customer service agent whose day I ruined by cussing her out over something that wasn't even her fault. It's not good enough for my kids when I get unreasonably impatient with them. It's not good enough for my wife when I don't provide for her like I should. Most importantly, it certainly isn't good enough for a perfect and flawless God.
My best, and your best, just hasn't been good enough since Adam and Eve ate the apple and introduced sin and the consequences thereof to the world. It doesn't make life any easier, it just makes life. The only thing we can do is adjust our attitude about it. We're not kids anymore. We should understand what the word consequence means, and be grateful for the opportunity to better ourselves and thereby better our influence during our time here. Trust me, I know it's not easy. Even as I write this, I am struggling with the concept and trying to fight off feelings of resentment. It's not easy to accept consequences as you suffer them, but you have to believe that some day the lessons we learn from it will help us make better decision, or help someone else make better decisions.
At least, that's the theory I'm going with to help me get through the day. Because I am realizing that if the world were truly just, I would suffer my entire life only to be followed by a very long trip to hell.
Learning from mom, even after she's gone
I think it’s safe to say that we’ve made it through another Christmas, and nearly another year. The holidays tend to open old wounds for those of us who have lost someone we were close to, and this year was no exception for me. For some reason I decided to sit down last night and put a little salt into it.
My step dad has kept my mom’s laptop and has been using it a little bit since she died. He doesn’t do much with it except for get online periodically if he finds something that interests him. That to say, he’s never had any reason to access the documents that my mom had saved so they are still on it. I started going through some of them because I missed her and I thought that reading some of the things she had written might help me reconnect a little bit. Even something as simple as e-mails she had saved with outdated and no longer relevant information in them were meaningful. As long as it was something that she had written, and included some of her most used phrases, it brought back memories.
Mom liked to write. I suppose that is where I got it from. Like me, I think she found it easier to express her self by writing more than speaking. When we write, we can more carefully choose the words that we want to use to better express exactly what we are feeling or thinking. She was also pretty critical of her ability to do it. I firmly believe that what few things that are left on there are only a fraction of what was actually written. I’m sure she deleted more than a few documents. But I thoroughly enjoyed reading what was left. Somehow, it made me feel closer to her than I did when she was alive.
There was one thing that stood out to me though. Mom never made her faith and love for God a secret. Anyone that knew her, or even just met her, knew that she was deeply spiritual and very close to her Lord. She was solid, even as she lay on the hospital bed and drew her last breath, she never faltered; at least not to the point that anyone knew it. In all the documents that were left on her computer, there were none that didn’t mention Him in one way or another.
When she was diagnosed with Lymphoma, she decided to try to keep a journal about what she was going through, mostly the emotional aspect, but also some of the medical things involved. Unfortunately, she didn’t really follow through with it and only managed to write, or keep, 2 of them. They were pretty profound though. One in particular was important to me, and I’ll try and relay it to you here.
She wrote that after having been diagnosed for about six weeks, she had gone to a couple of different churches to be prayed over by the elders. It was not her idea. It wasn’t that she was opposed to being prayed over, it was just that she wasn’t really worried about the diagnosis or the outcome. I was shocked by that, but I’ll get into that later. It went on to say that she was on the way home, riding in the car in silence, and started to wonder if she should be worried, or at least, wondered why she wasn’t. So she did exactly what I would expect my mother to do, she prayed about it. She simply addressed God and asked Him if she should be worried, or concerned about it. She asked if she should expect a miracle, a challenge or a healing. She said that her answer came immediately and was perfectly clear, and clearly His word. He said: “The road you are about to travel will not be easy or fun, but you and I are going to have a blast!”
She got a one line answer from the Lord, and yet there were so many things I learned from that short entry. First: She was diagnosed with Lymphoma, which is one of the most difficult cancers to beat. Not only that, but she was diagnosed with stage four Lymphoma. In fact, her doctor said that it was so bad, that if there were a stage six she would have had that. He gave her three to six months to live. Six weeks later, she wasn’t scared, worried or concerned. Only after six weeks did she decide that maybe she should check in with God to see whether she should be or not.
Second: Jesus was a man, and God is not unapproachable or unavailable. He is personable. His answer to her was conversational. He didn’t quote a bunch of scripture at her, or speak to her using language that you would see in a tax manual. He just spoke to her, like a father speaking to his daughter.
I guess I’m not totally surprised by either one of those points; it just has never been presented in such a clear and simple way before. Mom was so totally surrendered to the will of God, that it didn’t matter what the long term result of the diagnosis was. She wanted whatever God wanted. That philosophy completely removes any need for worry. I worried. It drove me crazy that she wasn’t any more concerned about it than she was. I guess I wanted her to panic. At the time, I didn’t share her faith. I also didn’t believe, despite my years of being taught differently, that God was all that concerned with what happened to us. I thought He was more likely to use us, even to the point of allowing us to die, to accomplish some greater purpose. I didn’t think it mattered how difficult it was for us to go through something as long as His ultimate purpose was served. For Him to plant that thought in her mind, using those words, was important to me. Mom believed that while God may use her illness or tribulations to accomplish some other goal, that whatever she was going through would benefit her, or those she cared about, to such an extent that she believed it would be worth it.
As she lay dying, she asked us not to let her death be a stumbling block to us. She believed in a complete healing through the entire 8 year battle with the cancer. She told me more than once that she believed her healing had been manifested. What she came to realize is that it was manifested, just not here on earth. Her largest concern was that we would question God or our faith in Him based on the fact that she didn’t live. She was right to be concerned. I used that, though not solely, as an excuse to ignore God and even be angry with Him for a long time.
That being said, she did struggle privately. She was still human, and Satan used Fear and Defeat and Despair against her. In one of her other entries she talked about having something just short of an anxiety attack one night. She was crying uncontrollably and shaking. It was late, and Jim was already asleep. She said she considered waking him and asking him to pray, but such was my mom, she decided not to because she didn’t want to scare him. Instead, she prayed, quoted scripture to herself and sang songs. She said within minutes she was calm again.
I never knew anything like that had happened to her until I read that. Personally, the most difficult thing I’ve ever gone through was when my daughter Brynn was born, but I think that I was so tired and so surrounded by people that I wasn’t subjected to anxiety like that. It certainly didn’t last 8 years. The point is that I hope I never go through something like that, but if I do, I want her kind of faith. I want to be able to lay aside the worry and anxiety like she did. I want to be able to rely on someone who knows what the outcome of every situation will be, and know that He will ultimately make everything okay, even if the end game is not what I thought, or hoped, it would be. I want to have the kind of relationship with God that she had, so that when difficulty comes, He will look forward to traveling down that road with me like He did with her. If I am ridiculed for exploring and deepening my faith, and yet can share a relationship with Him like my mother did, it will be worth it. If I have to give up some of the sin that I hold most dear in order to be able to let someone else worry about my problems, that too will be worth it. And, most importantly, if I have to lose my mom to make me come to these conclusions, and to be able to enjoy the benefits that come along with the relationship that I’m talking about, I can begrudgingly accept that as well. I finally realize that my own stubbornness and anger is to blame and not Gods. The fact that I had to lose mom to bring all of this to my attention is my fault. And while I’m certain that God didn’t take her solely to get to me, I know that I was at least one of the reasons. I also believe that if I were the only reason, mom would have changed nothing.
My step dad has kept my mom’s laptop and has been using it a little bit since she died. He doesn’t do much with it except for get online periodically if he finds something that interests him. That to say, he’s never had any reason to access the documents that my mom had saved so they are still on it. I started going through some of them because I missed her and I thought that reading some of the things she had written might help me reconnect a little bit. Even something as simple as e-mails she had saved with outdated and no longer relevant information in them were meaningful. As long as it was something that she had written, and included some of her most used phrases, it brought back memories.
Mom liked to write. I suppose that is where I got it from. Like me, I think she found it easier to express her self by writing more than speaking. When we write, we can more carefully choose the words that we want to use to better express exactly what we are feeling or thinking. She was also pretty critical of her ability to do it. I firmly believe that what few things that are left on there are only a fraction of what was actually written. I’m sure she deleted more than a few documents. But I thoroughly enjoyed reading what was left. Somehow, it made me feel closer to her than I did when she was alive.
There was one thing that stood out to me though. Mom never made her faith and love for God a secret. Anyone that knew her, or even just met her, knew that she was deeply spiritual and very close to her Lord. She was solid, even as she lay on the hospital bed and drew her last breath, she never faltered; at least not to the point that anyone knew it. In all the documents that were left on her computer, there were none that didn’t mention Him in one way or another.
When she was diagnosed with Lymphoma, she decided to try to keep a journal about what she was going through, mostly the emotional aspect, but also some of the medical things involved. Unfortunately, she didn’t really follow through with it and only managed to write, or keep, 2 of them. They were pretty profound though. One in particular was important to me, and I’ll try and relay it to you here.
She wrote that after having been diagnosed for about six weeks, she had gone to a couple of different churches to be prayed over by the elders. It was not her idea. It wasn’t that she was opposed to being prayed over, it was just that she wasn’t really worried about the diagnosis or the outcome. I was shocked by that, but I’ll get into that later. It went on to say that she was on the way home, riding in the car in silence, and started to wonder if she should be worried, or at least, wondered why she wasn’t. So she did exactly what I would expect my mother to do, she prayed about it. She simply addressed God and asked Him if she should be worried, or concerned about it. She asked if she should expect a miracle, a challenge or a healing. She said that her answer came immediately and was perfectly clear, and clearly His word. He said: “The road you are about to travel will not be easy or fun, but you and I are going to have a blast!”
She got a one line answer from the Lord, and yet there were so many things I learned from that short entry. First: She was diagnosed with Lymphoma, which is one of the most difficult cancers to beat. Not only that, but she was diagnosed with stage four Lymphoma. In fact, her doctor said that it was so bad, that if there were a stage six she would have had that. He gave her three to six months to live. Six weeks later, she wasn’t scared, worried or concerned. Only after six weeks did she decide that maybe she should check in with God to see whether she should be or not.
Second: Jesus was a man, and God is not unapproachable or unavailable. He is personable. His answer to her was conversational. He didn’t quote a bunch of scripture at her, or speak to her using language that you would see in a tax manual. He just spoke to her, like a father speaking to his daughter.
I guess I’m not totally surprised by either one of those points; it just has never been presented in such a clear and simple way before. Mom was so totally surrendered to the will of God, that it didn’t matter what the long term result of the diagnosis was. She wanted whatever God wanted. That philosophy completely removes any need for worry. I worried. It drove me crazy that she wasn’t any more concerned about it than she was. I guess I wanted her to panic. At the time, I didn’t share her faith. I also didn’t believe, despite my years of being taught differently, that God was all that concerned with what happened to us. I thought He was more likely to use us, even to the point of allowing us to die, to accomplish some greater purpose. I didn’t think it mattered how difficult it was for us to go through something as long as His ultimate purpose was served. For Him to plant that thought in her mind, using those words, was important to me. Mom believed that while God may use her illness or tribulations to accomplish some other goal, that whatever she was going through would benefit her, or those she cared about, to such an extent that she believed it would be worth it.
As she lay dying, she asked us not to let her death be a stumbling block to us. She believed in a complete healing through the entire 8 year battle with the cancer. She told me more than once that she believed her healing had been manifested. What she came to realize is that it was manifested, just not here on earth. Her largest concern was that we would question God or our faith in Him based on the fact that she didn’t live. She was right to be concerned. I used that, though not solely, as an excuse to ignore God and even be angry with Him for a long time.
That being said, she did struggle privately. She was still human, and Satan used Fear and Defeat and Despair against her. In one of her other entries she talked about having something just short of an anxiety attack one night. She was crying uncontrollably and shaking. It was late, and Jim was already asleep. She said she considered waking him and asking him to pray, but such was my mom, she decided not to because she didn’t want to scare him. Instead, she prayed, quoted scripture to herself and sang songs. She said within minutes she was calm again.
I never knew anything like that had happened to her until I read that. Personally, the most difficult thing I’ve ever gone through was when my daughter Brynn was born, but I think that I was so tired and so surrounded by people that I wasn’t subjected to anxiety like that. It certainly didn’t last 8 years. The point is that I hope I never go through something like that, but if I do, I want her kind of faith. I want to be able to lay aside the worry and anxiety like she did. I want to be able to rely on someone who knows what the outcome of every situation will be, and know that He will ultimately make everything okay, even if the end game is not what I thought, or hoped, it would be. I want to have the kind of relationship with God that she had, so that when difficulty comes, He will look forward to traveling down that road with me like He did with her. If I am ridiculed for exploring and deepening my faith, and yet can share a relationship with Him like my mother did, it will be worth it. If I have to give up some of the sin that I hold most dear in order to be able to let someone else worry about my problems, that too will be worth it. And, most importantly, if I have to lose my mom to make me come to these conclusions, and to be able to enjoy the benefits that come along with the relationship that I’m talking about, I can begrudgingly accept that as well. I finally realize that my own stubbornness and anger is to blame and not Gods. The fact that I had to lose mom to bring all of this to my attention is my fault. And while I’m certain that God didn’t take her solely to get to me, I know that I was at least one of the reasons. I also believe that if I were the only reason, mom would have changed nothing.
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