You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink

I've been thinking a lot about the American idea we have that God will take care of us, and that we just need to trust him to get us through whatever circumstance we are facing.

Well, yeah, that is part of the equation. 

It's a hard one to muddle through, because leaning too far into the argument that you have to do things to be blessed by God totally opposes the idea that it is Grace that saves us, which is not biblical. 

That being said, there are things that those who call themselves "Christ followers", or those who are trusting in God to take care of them, need to do. 

You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink. 

This idea is the same for the Christian walk. Our American idea of who God is and what he does has become really muddled. We think of Him as some being up in the sky watching over us and smiling, someone that will "make everything ok if we just trust him and know he's with us."  The element that is missing from this idea is the Relationship.  

God designed us to be personal and connected, he wants to have conversations with, and give us direction with our lives so we don't screw things up and then wonder what the heck went wrong... "trusting he'll pull us out" of whatever pit we fell in.  

God pursues us. He sends people into our lives and puts circumstances in our path to direct us toward him. He never stops drawing us to himself. Here is the key: we can be "around God," but if we don't spend time with him, we aren't drinking any of the life giving water that he is so desperately trying to give us. 

And we feel parched and desperate or like we are running on empty, or trying our best....  The Word is the key. 

Are you a horse standing at the river wondering why you're so thirsty?  Wondering why you're so lost? Wondering why your circumstances are not working out for you? Or wondering why everything in your life seems great on the outside, but you're not happy in the inside?  

We all get "thirsty," or parched, or spiritually dehydrated in different ways. Hear me out on this one: Like humans were made to consume H2O and cannot sustain on this earth without it, our spiritual souls were made to consume the presence and the Word of God. 

I used to wish I could just hold my bible and just "absorb" the Word without actually reading it. I used to convince myself that showing up to church on Sunday, or reading a positive devitional was enough to keep my spiritually hydrated during the week. 

I finally got sick of being parched all the time. And when I got sick enough of having zero spiritual growth year after year, I finally started asking God to give me a desire for his Word, and a desire to take time away from my busy life to read and pray- also called spending time listening to, and talking with, God. It is as simple as that. 

He answered my prayer, and he will answer yours, but it starts with realizing you're thirsty. 

Why would a horse get all the way to water and not drink?  Because it didn't realize it needed it.  And it probably didn't know what kind of journey it would be on. I'm visualizing a ticked-off cowboy who needs to get from Dallas to Houston (don't mock my geography skills), and is desperately trying to get his horse to drink. Silly horse won't drink, and doesn't have a clue that he's gonna regret not downing that water very soon. I just see the cowboy going "c'mon!  You need this!  Just drink!"

Don't be a silly horse. Don't be a stubborn horse. Be smarter than a horse, knowing you have a God who loves you desperately, and wants the very best for you, and wants to keep you healthy and away from harm. 

The trusting should be happening when God says "hey drink this, you'll need it," rather than when you run off on your own adventure without any sustenance and then hope God is going to swoop in like Zoro to save you from whatever you've gotten tangled in. 

Go read your bible. Ask for Him to soften your heart, unplug your ears, and pull the scales off your eyes so he can speak to you and you can understand what he's trying to say to you. Cause. You. Need. It. 

The big bad U word... (unforgiveness)

unforgiveness.

I find it funny that my blogger template and Microsoft Word don't even recognize the word unforgiveness.   Microsoft Word recommended that I correct the spelling of "unforgiveness" to the word "forgiveness."  The word is so infrequent and unused in society that a computer doesn't recognize it!  The irony in this is killing me.

unforgiveness.  That one thing that we don't like to talk about cause it's really hard... and we OFTEN don't even think we have a problem with.

I remember taking a class a long time ago about the topic, and thinking the class would be a breeze since I really didn't have anything in my heart that would need forgiving.  HA!  I was very very wrong.  Silly me.

Fast forward to a much more "mature" me.  A few years ago I went through a period of time where I really allowed things to fester in my heart.  It started off with one person, and then another, and then another.  I found myself in situations where I felt taken advantage of, lied to, and unappreciated (all things that actually happened, with all the raw emotions that come with something like that).  I found myself reeling from the blows of people who I trusted and looked up to who said and did things that were very hurtful and offensive.  There were more people and other things, and many circumstances and situations.  It was weird. I'm a pretty easy going person, and I'm a people pleaser by nature, so between the two I rarely have run-ins with people, and I rarely get mad at people... it's just not in my nature, but there I was, for too long, feeling like a lot of stones had been thrown at me, and I was getting buried under the rubble.

Hindsight is 20/20, and while this went on for a little over 2 years, the further I got away from this pain/unforgiveness cycle, the more I started to realize that I think God was allowing or inflicting those situations on me to bring out some dirt in my heart that was hidden. He has a way of doing that; refining us, growing us, by putting us in situations that cause us to squirm, and then to look inward.

The longer I walk this Christian walk I realize that God really does work on one thing at a time in our lives.  While we may clean up our act and have some major life change as a new believer, the hard work of really changing and looking more like Christ is a very slow and sometimes painful process- depending on how malleable my heart is and how quickly I want to change.

Were it not for the pain that comes with the lessons the He teaches us and the change that He tries to make in us, I don't think we would do much changing at all.  It is the pain that draws me begging and pleading to the feet of Jesus, asking for wisdom and knowledge, and to. be. changed.  If there was no pain in the process, I don't think I'd see a need to change at all.

So there I was in the midst of all this yucky unforgivess, not even realizing that it was I who had a problem. I was the problem.  Whaaatttttt???  No, no, no, the problem was "them!"  Nope, it was me.
And it took my husband pointing that out to me, for me to realize the truth.

Sidenote: Spouses are for refining each other.  You and your spouse should be able to (gently) point out in each other the areas in which you are not behaving/living spiritually well... and you should each be able to take what the other says to heart.  If you and your spouse don't have that back-and-forth, then you won't be able to help each other on this journey, which is a detriment to you both.  You have a teammate for a reason. Be a team player- both of you.

Anyway, I got off track.  There I was sitting in a big old pile of unforgiveness, feeling like a victim, and not wanting to believe it was me that needed to do the changing. When I was finally fed up with my misery I began to really look at my heart and ask the tough questions, and process how to forgive people when I still felt hurt.

About that time I was working in the yard, pulling weeds, and I was amazed at the process of the weeds.  I'd find these tiny little weeds sticking up about two inches out of the ground, but I'd go to pull them and out came another 10 inches of the weed that was underneath the soil!  Yes, clearly I'm not a veteran gardner.  My point: those silly weeds made me realize that I was looking at my unforgiveness as a tiny little two inch problem that I thought I was handling very well because I had not blown up at anyone or cut anyone out of my life.  Upon further examination, those petty little bouts of unforgiveness, compiled each time I felt justifiably hurt by someone, left me tangled and stuck and almost unable to get past anything anymore because of all those 10 inch weeds underneath the surface of my heart.

I literally was getting to the point where even little things became big things, my thick-skin and ability to roll things off my shoulder were becoming a thing of the past, and I was downright miserable.  I was all tangled up, because I was holding on to my hurt, and justifying my anger.

Can I tell you something?  During that time, I had a very dry, distant relationship with God.  I would open my bible and nothing would jump out at me.  I'd pray and it would feel like I was talking to the wall.  I got irritated, almost to the point that I didn't want to read my bible, because I knew I wouldn't get anything out of it anyway.

There are a lot of things I'm unpacking here, but I want this to stick: forgiveness is the key to successful spiritual growth and a successful ministry.

 Verses that would talk about God forgiving us, and our responsibility to forgive each other would nag at me, popping up in my head...  Not that I didn't want to forgive, but c'mon, it's hard!

Walking with God/being in relationship with God/whatever you want to call it requires a heart that wants to be changed.  That is kinda the whole point of the Christian walk- that God changes you.  He doesn't save you to leave you.  He didn't die in your place and then decide you weren't worth being changed.  None of us, in our humanness, look or act or embody Jesus, and so we all need heart change.

With this change comes a better us.  He doesn't make us different people, he makes us a better version of ourselves.  Kinder.  Calmer.  More merciful.  More joyful.  Wiser.  More in tune to the needs of others.  The list goes on.

The problem lies in our inability to forgive others, which hinders the work that God is trying to do to reshape us/better us.  Unforgiveness is messy.  Unforgiveness hurts us.  It doesn't hurt others, it hurts US.  And it hinders us from seeing and hearing clearly.  It's like an artery that keeps clogging, one little granule of plaque at a time. (I probably said that wrong, but you get the picture.) It's bad news.

I think one of the hardest parts about unforgiveness is that sometimes you think you've conquered it, and it creeps back up out of nowhere.  I had a dream the other night about (someone who had/has hurt me pretty deeply, continually for quite some time now--that I have taken great strides to forgive, continually) and (this someone) said a whole bunch of mean, critical, ridiculing things to me... in my dream!  And I woke up with all those hurt feelings and ugly thoughts and a heaviness set over me again that I hadn't felt for quite some time.

I had worked R.E.A.L.L.Y. hard on scraping up every last bit of hard feelings toward this person--- even when I knew I would never receive the healing that I needed in the form of an apology and a change in behavior.  Despite all that hard work, one stupid dream brought back all my hurts and fears and angers to the surface and I had to start all over.

Dreams are dumb.  Sometimes.

Unforgiveness is dumb.  Always.

It is a hard battle that sometimes we fight more than once. Hear me when I say the battle is worth it. The freedom that comes from letting go is worth it.  The chains that come from holding on to bitterness are entangling and life-sucking and the whole mess will eat at you.  It's not worth it.

One last thought I've been struck by recently.  Jesus, on the cross, looked at those who had just finished hanging him there and said, "forgive them, for they know not what they do."

Sometimes I make forgiveness less about an apology, and more about making sure people knooowwwwww what they did to me.  I get hung up on that.  Sometimes, we have to forgive, even when people have no idea how deeply they've hurt us- or even hurt us at all.  Oi.  I'm learning that this concept is possible, and sometimes necessary, and in the end, I'm ok despite what I feel I'm lacking from someone else. 

Ok second last thought.  Sorry.  Here goes: forgiving people throws people off.  When people think you are going to attack, or give a cold shoulder, or change the dynamics of a friendship (or collegue-ship), and you respond in love/grace instead, it throws people off.  This is one of the quickest, most stubtly-powerful ways to show Jesus love that you will ever do.  Be grace givers.  Give the benefit of the doubt.  Hand over mercy instead of contempt.  You may not get many chances to talk about Jesus or spread the gospel, but you can drench Jesus' message all over people without uttering a word.

Let's start showing people what it means to follow Jesus, instead of trying to tell people how they need to be different.

All for the Glory.  You are loved.

Things My Children Are Teaching Me

After finally getting three littles down for the night, I sat down to write, and tried to fight through the blank stare of that instantaneous writers block.  I heard the clanking of a 100 year old doorknob and after a moments pause I mustered my deepest mama bear voice and yelled up to the second floor, "Elin, get back in bed."  There was silence, and then there was a low, sad wail.  I sighed a big sigh and made my way upstairs.  As my feet crossed over the living room floor I remembered again that my children are teaching me.  

i have moments of ordinary-ness that teach me things i'd never hear otherwise, like the whisperings of the unseen catching me off guard, untangling my heart

I found E outside her door, standing in the dark.
I couldn't see, but I could hear her whimpering as my hands tried to feel around for her.  She should have been in bed, but instead she was out of bed again, crying in the darkness. I asked her what was wrong as I fumbled for a light. Guiding her into her little room I tried to interpret her jumbled mumblings through anxious tears, but I couldn't, so I held her instead. She soon relaxed and changed her tune, and everything was alright again.  She asked for her princesses and I laid her back in bed. After a very OCD-ed routine of hugs and kisses ("kitheth" as she calls them- be still my heart), I told her I loved her for the millionth time and turned out the light.

Like Elin, sometimes I find myself in a place I know I'm not supposed to be, doing something I know I should not do.  Sometimes that place is called fear.  Sometimes that place is called pride.  Sometimes that place is called disobedience.  Sometimes that place is called judgement, or envy, or apathy, or (fill in the blank). Each time, I know it is a place I am not supposed to be, but I wanted to go there anyway. Sometimes Every. darn. time. I find myself having been compelled to do that thing, there I am, standing in the dark, in an ugly place, and not very happy.

I may feel justified, standing there in the dark.  I may feel victimized- like it wasn't my fault I got there.  I might feel guilty, or maybe even angry at myself for landing in that same spot again.

Lately my dark spots look something like the aftermath of a day where I did not perform at a level I felt was adequate, and the people-pleaser in me reared its ugly head.  My fickle heart is always traumatized by the belief (whether true or not) that I have let someone down, or have not been what someone "needed."  Just a few Sundays ago I came home absolutely certain that people viewed me as the hyperactive-weirdo-pastors-wife who just needed a Xanex and a muzzle.  Boiled down, that is called pride.

Lately my dark spots look something like the heat of the moment when my husband has said that one thing in just the wrong way and my irritability gage goes from a 2 to a 10 and my head explodes inside because HOW DARE HE, and he doesn't even know, and oh. no. he. didn't!   Boiled down, that one is also called pride.  And disobedience.  And sometimes that one is called judgement.

Lately, my dark spots have looked something like
                                              that sour feeling in my soul when I am reminded of
                                                                       that person who hurt me,
                                                or that friendship that didn't turn out like I thought it would,
                                                               or (fill in the blank).
This "reminder" usually surprises me, where something random will jog my memory.  Often, I am reminded of (hurtful circumstance/painful memory) because of that blessed thing we call social media.  I find my hurt can quickly turn into ugly things like envy when things seem to be going well in the lives of said others, or into judgement about how said people are spending their lives/money/time... because I'm sooooo much better than them....  (Yes, pastors wives are people too, and we have real-people feelings we have to fight off like everyone else.)  It honestly amazes me how quickly my ugliest thoughts will come out when I'm hurt.  It's like part of my brain shuts off and all I remember about the person who has hurt me is the hurt, eliminating all recollection of any good this person might have been in my life.  Backtracking from this ledge is tedious, and not pretty, but I have found it is possible if I work at it.  Boiled down, I'm straddling ugly places like a heated game of twister, finding myself overwhelmed with pride, judgement, envy, unforgiveness, bitterness, self-pity, and just a general sense of hard-heartedness.  So many things wrong with this scenario.

Lately, my dark spots look like fear, or an attempt to control, or hopelessness, or loneliness.  There are spots I used to struggle with that I don't anymore. (Hallelujah, Jesus is working on me one thing at a time!)

But just like my sweetest 2 and 1/2 year old child who has been told 1,000 times not to get out of bed (I mean really, she knows she's not supposed to!), I find myself in split second decisions knowing I shouldn't go there, but I do anyway.

I think how frustrated God must be with me.  I think about how I want E to stay in bed simply so she can rest, because rest is something that she needs, and something that is good for her. I'm sure it is the very same for God... He must be thinking (or trying to shout loud enough for me to hear) that it would be so much better for me if I would just stay centered, and not flip that switch in my head, stepping over into those dark places in my heart.

I think about how Elin comes out of her room every night, sometimes multiple times, and every time I have to take her right back up, and sometimes I have to discipline her as I'm teaching her to obey. I think about how as a child I hated the word obey, because I wanted to do what I wanted to do, and how silly that seems to me now, as I try to teach Elin to obey- simply for her own safety and well-being.  Yet, it is the same way in my heart as I wander out where I know I'm not supposed to be, and God has to bring me right back to where I need to be.

As I sat rocking E tonight, sweaty-salt smell on her forehead and yogurt in her hair, with her arms around my neck, I was compelled in a different way.  There are times, no matter what that precious girl has done, where I can't help but plant a million kisses on her and soak up the longest hugs, because I am compelled to love her in a way that my brain can't explain but my gut and my heart can't resist.  I. love. that. stinking. girl. and I take every opportunity I can to express that to her.

There are times when I find myself in ugly spots, standing in the dark of wherever I've decided I need to be, and in those moments I often think God must be angry, or frustrated, or disappointed with me. My assumption is then that God would want distance from me.  Having Elin, and loving Elin, has given me a new perspective into how God views me when I've sinned.  What I know more than anything is that God loves me like a parent loves a child- times a MILLION. When I think about how much I love Elin, even in the midst of temporary frustration with her- and sometimes necessary discipline, and then compare that to how God views me as his child and his creation, it gives me a clearer picture of how he really does love me.  Even when I'm a mess. Even when I mess up.  Even when I don't deserve forgiveness or mercy.  Even when I'm in the same spot I've been in a bazillion trillion times, when I KNOW not to go there, even then, God loves me.

Instead of running away, or hiding, or throwing a temper tantrum in the dark, I can call out to God, and good gracious, every time, he comes running for me, and picks me up, and holds me, and talks me through whatever the circumstance is.  He comforts me, because he is the Comforter.  He gives me wisdom I don't have, because he is Wisdom.  He tells me he loves me, because he is Love.  When I need it, he gives me strength, or courage, or instruction (I need those things a lot).  He helps me to see things from his perspective (which is allllllways better).  And then he walks with me, and I am not alone.

The God of the Universe who breathed all things into existence and motion loves us enough to care for us in this weird/awesome parent-child-relationship-way.  The Creator of Light, and Ruler of heaven and earth cares about us, and wants to provide for us and shelter us and nurture us and sustain us.  And sometimes, as if whispering in my ear, in the most mundane moments, he reminds me of this love through the cries of my children.