Called to be seperate

On this rather long and winding path I have taken to get closer to Christ…a path I did not choose,  nor did I ask to be placed on…I have found myself being further and further separated from the things of this world and even, for the most part, the people of this world.

I have a sister that not only thrives on social connections but she seems to truly need them. I guess she’s always been that way. I, on the other hand, have never been that way. When I was a child, going to school, I needed…and I stress the word needed because I was lost without her…a best friend. She was always like a security blanket for me. So much so that when she would miss a day of school I was lost…all but didn’t know how to function…without her.

I had several best friends over the years of school and had the same dependency on all of them but as I got older I developed friendships with more of the girls I went to school with. Those friendships filled the days when my best friend wasn’t there. By the time I was in high school I no longer had that need. In fact, by then we had moved so much that I no longer had any close friends. I simply went through my days at school and went home. And I was okay with that.

As the years passed and I became an adult with a family of my own people…friends…came and went, family ties that were once strong faded away while those I had never been close to before became closer. Life…happened. And while it happened I found myself slowly…ever slowly…being pulled from the world and those in it.

Don’t get me wrong, I still have strong relationships with family. I have friends. But I don’t have the same connections to the world a lot of people seem to have. I don’t need them and quite honestly…I don’t want them.

But looking back over the years I can see a separation from the world in me that started even in childhood. I was always the girl that was happy with one friend. As I grew older I was happy with only family relationships. I never felt the need to be surrounded by friends.

It’s neat to look back over our lives and see how the Lord prepared us for what we are today. The Lord…will separate us from the world. That was the point. It is a point I can’t make though without going all the way back to my childhood. Back to the days when…in kindergarten…I would stand just inside the classroom door and cry until my best friend arrived, back to the days that…when school was just too much…I would cry and the teacher would send me to the nurses office because I didn’t feel good and I would be sent home from school, back to the days when I literally didn’t know what to do on a day when my best friend was absent.

I was separated then. Separated from all the kids around me, separated from the life of school. I had no interest in it and no desire to be even a small part of it. And so I had that one friend that I was close to…and that made the days bearable.

From those days…the separation never ended. I was so often in the world but rarely was I a part of the world. Even in my teen years.

As a Christian that is a good thing. It’s what we’re called to be in Scripture. But it wasn’t until a few years ago that I began to understand that and it was much more recently that I was able to connect that separation that I feel in me to the calling that was placed upon me.

As I go through life…when I’m in town amongst the ‘world’…I feel no connection to it. There are things I enjoy doing but there is nothing I feel I must do…for myself, not the have to do this kind of tasks of caring for a family and a home.

It is a separation that allows me to enjoy the things in the world but to not feel the need to have the connections and interactions…and experiences…that so many do. It is a separation that takes me from the nonsense of this world and places me in the Lord’s will for me.

This separation…I have had family members say that I make being a Christian harder than it has to be because I separate from so much. What those family members don’t understand is that first, I didn’t choose that separation, it’s just there, and second, the separation makes everything easier. It takes the stresses and pressures of much of this world away and leaves me with a peace that only the Lord can give.

 

On the journey together

The path stretches ahead, long and winding. Slow and gently rolling at times. At other times it twists and turns, climbs and drops, doubles back on itself and even has knots tied in the path that I must traverse to reach my Savior.

I once thought it was an easy path. One that all I had to do was take a long road through a meandering countryside where the weather was perfect, the sun was shining, there were big white fluffy clouds in the sky, and there were plenty of other travelers along the way.

I was wrong.

Trials and tribulations. That’s what we’re promised. Nothings fair, the road’s not wide and smooth, the path isn’t free of rocks and kinks, the weather isn’t all sunshine and pretty clouds at the perfect temperature. The weather comes in spurts of blizzards and hurricanes interspersed with sunshine. The path is narrow and hard to see at times. Sometimes I can stand up and walk, sometimes I crawl. I have to dodge branches and brambles. Sometimes I must wiggle through knots in the path that are pulled so tight I don’t think I’ll be able to get through them. And the few other travelers along the way are hard to find among the shadowy figures that line the sides of the path, telling me they’re going to the same destination I am but I know from the direction they’re walking that they’re on a different path even though they can’t tell it.

Alone, I continue my journey. In one hand I cling to the map that is the Word of God, with the other I reach toward Heaven begging my savior to take me by the hand and lead me where He wants me to go. The path is difficult at times but it’s manageable. But oh how I wish I had someone to share the journey with, someone to help me study the Map, to figure out the harder areas of the path.

Then I round a bend in the trail… And there standing on the path is another traveler. One that isn’t just off the trail but right in the middle of it. I can clearly see this traveler. There are no shadows to obscure my view. And what I see gives me joy, gives me hope. This traveler has the same Map of life that I do. This traveler is standing with one had stretched toward the Lord as I have. And I know.

Here is a fellow traveler.

We’re headed to the same destination.

I didn’t expect to see anyone else on my path. I’d long since given up hope of finding another. But here was an unexpected gift in this rocky path I’m traveling.

The other traveler holds a hand out to me. For the moment I forget the mountain, forget the twists and turns in the path. I reach out and link hands with this traveler. I didn’t foresee this other traveler joining me on my journey but I’m glad they did. I expected to continue my journey alone but now I’m not.

And right there on the path the Lord created a miracle for me. He gave me a gift I never thought to be given. Without warning, without much time passing He forever linked my heart and my fellow travelers together. He joined us as man and wife.

This isn’t just a fellow traveler. This is now my husband. The surprise of the gift I’ve been given, the magnitude of it takes some adjusting. I thought I would be forever alone on this path and the Lord provided not only a fellow traveler but someone that is now a part of who I am.

Together, hand in hand we continue our journey. The twists and turns are made easier, the road a little less bumpy simply because I no longer travel alone. I know the way hasn’t gotten any easier but it feels as if it has simply because I no longer have to face it alone.

Onward we go, traveling down the path, making our way through the brambles and the storms. As we walk we talk of life and Christ, of our journey, of where we’ve been and where we’re going.

Steadily we keep going. Encouraging each other.

I’m going along just fine, stumbling here and there, taking the weather and the twists as they come. The aloneness that once bothered me is now a distant memory. My husband, my companion, the other half of me is here to share in all the ups and downs of the paths. He shares my joy in the sunshine and the easy stretches in the journey, he helps me over the rocks, he leads me when I can’t see the path for the fog.

I send up prayers of thanks with every step. The Lord has blessed me on my journey. And I wonder how I ever made it on this path alone. Where I once longed for others that were taking the same trip I am, heading to the same destination, now I look at my husband, grasp his hand a little tighter and am grateful I’m no longer alone.

Sometimes we stop to visit with the figures along the side of the path hoping that ‘this one’ might be join us on our path…only to be disappointed time and again. So we go back to stumbling down the path again. Then we round a bend in the path and there before us our rocky road is headed straight up a mountain bigger than Mt. Everest, covered in thick layers of ice, in the midst of a blizzard that obscures everything. I can faintly see what looks like a series of knots in the path, pulled so tight I can’t see a spot to wiggle through.

Maybe it’s the blizzard obscuring the openings, maybe it’s the mountain but something brings me to a halt. I stand on this path that I didn’t choose, seeking my Savior that I want more than anything and I know I’m about to fail. The temptation to look back and see if I can see the stretch of path that was all sunshine and easy going just a few steps back beckons. I don’t want to look back. I don’t want to go back. I like the path I’m on.

Something inside warns me that this is about to get very, very difficult. My heart cries out to my Lord. Silently. Begging Him to clear the path. If only the path would stop here, if only I could stay in this place forever. But I can’t. I want to keep forging ahead, growing closer to my Lord. But the temptation is there none the less.

I take a few steps forward my hand stretched toward Heaven. And I see that my hand is still entwined with my husbands. And I’m reminded. I’m no longer on this journey alone. My husband lightly squeezes my fingers, our hands stretched toward Christ together. It’s a reminder I badly need as I clutch my map tightly to my chest. I’m not alone on my journey. We’re in this together now.

 I put one foot in front of the other, my steps matching my husbands as we continuing down the path. It’s hard but somehow it’s not as hard because I have we’re together. I clutch my map tightly to my chest and share the struggle of making our way over the difficult stretch of path with my husband.

A rock I didn’t see trips me and I stumble. Those aren’t small rocks on the path. They’re large and round, mixed with slick mud that tries to pull me in and hold me in place. I struggle to gain my footing and feel my husband lift me back to my feet and help me through the difficult stretch. On down the path we go. Mud latches onto our feet weighing us down, slowing our steps.

Icy wind blows up out of nowhere and slams against me with every step. It blows through my clothes and bombards me until my fingers are frozen and I can no longer feel my feet.  I look at my husband and see he too is struggling against the wind. He squeezes my hand, then wraps his arm around my shoulders. We huddle together and keep going. Now we must yell to hear each other and our teeth chatter with every word but we speak of Christ and encourage each other. We know our destination will be worth the struggles we must go through to reach it.

I lean into my husband and keep stumbling forward.

But as that mountain looms before us, as those knots in the path grow ever closer my steps grow slower, my feet hit a patch of ice and as I slide back down the path my emotions take over. And my flesh begs to demand of my Creator what He was thinking. The questions flit through my mind to wonder why He gave me this path.

My husbands arm tightens around me, stopping my backward slide. He pulls me back into place beside him. I wipe snow off his face and thank him. We stand there…looking at each other, as the storm rages around us, and remind each other that this too shall pass. It’s just a difficult section we must get through. We open our map, somewhere along the way we have lost one but we know its okay because we are no longer two travelers but one, joined through Christ, and that we no longer need two separate maps. We study our map together and are encouraged. We know that the Lord has us and this difficult stretch of the journey in His hands, that He’s in control of us and the storm around us.

Encouraged, we close our map and continue our journey. The rocks and mud are still there, the icy wind still blows but we have each other and we have Christ. So onward we go. Thorns grow up in front of us, slowing us even more. They tear at our clothes and  I once again want to question Christ but I’m encouraged by the feel of my husbands hand around mine and  as  I push the thorns aside I push the questions away with them.

It’s not my place to question my Lord. And I keep going.

Slower now. My teeth are chattering from the cold, snow is sliding down my neck, mud has coated my feet. But the path keeps going. It’s like an escalator. I can’t stop it, can’t stop my forward momentum I can only go forward. Placing one foot in front of the other, struggling up the slick and icy path. Through the swirling white I can just make out enough of the path to see that before I reach the knot I must climb straight up the mountain. Just to the left of the path there’s an easier way, it gently moves over hills that slowly go over the mountain, but here in front of me is a sheer cliff that I must scale.

But  I don’t have to scale it alone. I look over at my husband and see that his struggles are as rough as mine but we’re here together and somehow that makes the cliff a little less sheer. But still it’s there and we must scale it.

So scale it we do. I cling to it with bare hands and feet that are weighed down with enough mud to make me wonder if someone isn’t holding onto me, pulling me back. But I keep climbing.

I can hear my husband climbing beside me, feel his hand on me helping me climb. I reach over and take his hand, pulling on him because I know the mud is clinging to him just as it is to me. And we continue up the mountain.

This isn’t a mountain I wanted to scale. These aren’t the trials I wanted to face. Anger starts to take hold as I try and shake some of the mud off my feet. I lose a shoe but the mud hangs on. I claw at the rocky surface of the sheer cliff, trying to gain a hold that will keep me from sliding on the icy path. I tell myself I can’t get angry. It isn’t allowed.

I’m supposed to be thankful for everything that comes my way. But…the flesh battles the spirit. The anger wants to win. Hand over hand, one footstep at a time, I climb the cliff. I stay on the path. It’s so narrow now that I can feel open air on either side of us. I can sense the deep void of nothingness which I know isn’t really nothingness because lining my path is a broader path. The easy way. The way that runs right alongside where I’m at.

But I’m not on that path. I’m on this one. And I want to be on the one I’ve been placed on. Only today, in this moment, as I lose three fingernails to the sharp rocks cutting into my hands, as my feet slip and slide and are long past feeling numb from the cold and the ice, as my flesh and my spirit do battle against themselves. Today…I fight anger at the One that placed me here.

I shouldn’t feel it. I can’t allow myself to feel it. It isn’t my place to ask questions or to demand answers. I’m not allowed to blame my Maker for the path He placed me on. And the guilt sets in. Because I don’t want to ever be angry with Him. But the battle keeps raging. The snow turns to sleet. It hits me with the fierceness of knives, it cuts through me and lands blow after blow against my heart.

And I raise my hand.

I beg for forgiveness.

Beg for help.

And once again I see…

My husbands hand wrapped around mine. He squeezes my hand, somehow sensing the turmoil inside me, sensing the storm that rages in me with the fierceness of the storm that batters us. And I’m reminded again that through the difficult stretches I’m no longer alone. I apologize again to my Lord and thank Him for the blessing He gave me when he gave me my husband. Difficult as the path may be I remember that it’s so much easier now that I’m no longer alone.

My husband tells me I would be okay if I had to travel the path alone and I doubt that I would be. He reminds me that I have Christ and that’s all I need but he doesn’t know how much I need him. How much I have come to depend on him as we’ve struggled over the difficult stretches of the path. I tell him I would be okay because I know deep down that if I didn’t have him I would continue the journey alone but I still doubt that I would be okay without him. I need him here, on this path with me. I need him to see me through the rough patches. Because without me quite knowing how it happened I now depend on him with every step.

We stand in the storm and talk about how much easier the path is now that we have each other and then we face the mountain again. It’s still there, still looming around us. We look at our feet and see that we are balanced on a small ledge just big enough for the two of us. We laugh because it’s either that or cry. Here is a brief reprieve from the sheer cliff we’re scaling and we didn’t even see it until it was time to climb again.

And so we start our ascent.

Because we’re on this path. And there is no alternative. We must keep going. Christ is with us and we know that. He’s there…we can feel him. And we know that He has a plan for this storm being in our path. That there’s a reason He has placed us on this cliff.

It’s a cliff I’d rather not be on because at the top of this cliff I can see the knots I know we must try and find a way to wiggle through. And worse…I can know see something huge and dark and threatening looming there. It waits for us as we keep climbing. I want to stop. I want to stay hanging on this cliff forever. Going backward isn’t an option; hanging on the cliff with the threat looming over us isn’t an option, even though I’d gladly stay here forever if only I didn’t have to face that threat.

But as I look into the threat that’s waiting just ahead…I’m afraid. I don’t want to go any further.

But we keep going. As I climb I raise my hand toward Heaven knowing my Lord is reaching for me even though I can’t see Him. And I see my hand still held snuggly in my husbands. Together we reach for Christ. Peace is there but so is pain. The pain of the icy knives slicing into my heart, cutting chunk after chunk out of me. It’s shredding me and still I climb because I’ve been given no other option. I was placed on this path and I cannot get off. I don’t want to get off. But I don’t want to face the fog or the threat either.

And so the flesh and the spirit battle.

But I’ve found my Savior again. I can feel His hand on mine even while it rests inside my husbands hand. I can feel my Lord lifting me up, holding me because I know I’m rapidly approaching that place when I can’t hold myself up anymore. And I know that it’s not just me He’s holding up. I know that He’s holding my husband up right along with me. Because my husband and I are one, because we are on this path toghether. Even still the path has become too hard. It’s more than I can bear. And it keeps hurtling me closer and closer to the threat I can see looming, growing bigger and darker, at the top of the cliff. There’s no escaping the threat, no turning around, no avoiding it. I must keep climbing. I must struggle through the knots to reach the top.

And I must face the threat.

I know I won’t do it alone. I can’t do it alone. Already my legs are weak, my knees are buckling and my strength is about gone. Beside me my husband slows too, I know without looking that he is depending more on our Lord. That gives me courage to face what’s coming even though I know my courage is gone. Somehow even as I grow weaker in body I gain strength from knowing my husband too is relying on our Lord to see us through.

It won’t be long now before I have nothing left to climb with and my Lord will have to carry me. I have no strength to get through the knots, no ability to scale the last of the cliff, and I know that I have nothing to fight the threat with.

I lean against my husband and cling tighter to my Lord. Somehow, somewhere, on this path that has thrown difficulties at me and now looms above me threatening me…somehow this man that was once a stranger has no become not only a part of me but he has become a part of my relationship with Christ. And as I lean into my husband and let my Lord take my weight I know that they will see me through. That Christ will see us both through. Because I can feel my husband leaning on Him just as much as I am.

And I know…

The Lord is the only thing keeping us on the mountain now. He’s there and He’s holding us as we hold each other. He will carry us to the top, battle the threat for us, and see us safely over the mountain.

 

Far from the Lord

 

There have been times in my life when I felt far from the Lord. Some of those times I knew where the distance came from. I knew it lay with me. That I had, for one reason or another, pulled away from Him. Most of those times came early in my walk with Christ, when I may not have been born again yet. But they were there.

I can well remember praying and telling the Lord I felt so far from Him. In those years before I was born again I was far from Him. No matter how much I might have prayed today there was always something waiting to pull me away from Him tomorrow. There was always something there waiting to be an idol that took my attention from Him.

I tried, time and again, to stay close to the Lord back then but failure always loomed. No matter what I wanted, no matter what was happening in my life, sooner or later something pulled me away from the Lord. And I let it. Usually without even noticing it was happening.

I knew little of the Lord back then, knew little of God. Not the real God anyway. All I knew was the Jesus loves you version of God taught in so many ‘churches’.

I was separated from God by my own sins. Even though I couldn’t see that they were sins. I was living my life, eventually trying to please Him, and sinning all the way. Back then I had no idea what the true nature of sin was or that I was committing it every day. That sure as I breathed…I sinned.

I saw the sinful lives of others, could tell when people were sinning if they commited any of the big sins…murder, adultery and the like…but I couldn’t see my own sins for what they were.

As a result…I was far from the Lord.

It wasn’t my time back then. He hadn’t drawn me to him. But looking back I can so clearly see what I couldn’t see then. To start with all the things that took hold of my thoughts and consumed them…were idols. Back then I didn’t know that. I thought and idol was a physical thing. I had no idea the true scope of what an idol was, or what having them did to my life.

Back then I went to God in prayer when I was in trouble, when life was more than I could bear, when I reached a point where I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t confess my sins to Him…at least not very often…I didn’t search my own heart and mind…I didn’t go to Him with the little things in my life…didn’t want Him in the day to day happenings.

Oh…I would have said I did. Would have said I wanted him to be a part of all of my life, but I really didn’t want Him there. I didn’t know it at the time though. I didn’t know that I only wanted Him in the corner of my life that I designated for Him. The space where I allowed Him to be.

I would have claimed I wanted Him in all parts of my life but when it came down to it…if I had known what having Him in all of my life would look like…I wouldn’t have wanted Him there.

But he’s there now. Without my asking Him to be. Without me inviting Him into all those places in my life…He stepped in and took over.

While I was busy living my sinful life He was busy pulling me from it.

Now I know the difference. I’ve seen what life with Christ is like. I’ve experienced what it feels like to have Christ in the middle of everything I do. I know what it’s like to feel him in my being. I know what it’s like to know that he’s with me when life becomes too much to bear, to know that he’s there when things get hard. But I also know what it’s like to have him there through every little thing in my life. To have him there when I wake up in the morning. To have him there when I sit and do nothing. To have Him with me in all things, through all I do.

And I wouldn’t go back if I could.

Because I was far from the Lord. Because life in that place might have seemed fun, it might have felt nice and cozy and warm and comfortable. But it wasn’t. It was hard, and it was cold, and it was uncomfortable.

Because He set me free. Because He saved me. Because He pulled me so close to Him that I’m no longer me without Him.

Walking into a crowd...

I enjoy bookstores. Bookstores that sell only new books. Used bookstores. Christian bookstores. Super sized bookstores. Teeny tiny bookstores. Actually it doesn't have to be a bookstore at all. I enjoy book sections in thrift stores. The mini section devoted to books in department stores. The little turning racks in convenient stores that hold books. The rack hanging on the side of the counter in hospital gift stores. Basically if it sells books I enjoy it.

Or I used to.

There was a time when I could find a book that I could enjoy in just about any setting that sold a book. Then I got picky. I started narrowing my interests. And then I got pickier. So much so that there was a time I would only read one genre of books.

And then...

The Lord narrowed my selections even further. He showed me things about books I never knew. Things I never wanted to know.

He showed me that even the 'Christian' books aren't always okay. I have a friend that doesn't believe in reading fiction books. She thinks it's wrong. She also believes that 90% if books in Christian bookstores should be burned.

When I walk into a bookstore I enjoy just seeing the books on the shelves. I've enjoyed books since I was a child and even now...there's just something about seeing them lined up there in neat rows, something about the smell of books. That, by the way, is something only another book enthusiast would understand.

If I go beyond the sight and smell of the bookstore, to actually touching them... well...there's something about feeling them in my hands. Some of them just fit, others don't. They say books are best friends. My preference is when a book feels like an old friend.

But as I've traveled this journey toward Christ, as He's pulled me further onto the narrow path, my enjoyment of books has changed. I still like to visit bookstores. There's just something about walking in one that I enjoy. I don't go to them often....less than once a month on average...but I do enjoy going.

The visits though, aren't quite the same as they used to be. When I walk through the doors now, no matter the size of the store, I know that I need to avoid 90% of the aisles. I know without ever looking at a title, without picking up a book, that most of what's inside the store will not only be something I don't want to read but that it will be filled with the kind of sinful things that go against what my Lord wants for me.

So I browse some of the non fiction...a very few categories of it...and I walk the aisle or two of Christian books. It would be nice, very nice, if I could pick any book in the Christian section and know that it was an okay choice for me, if I could know that every book in that section held true to Scripture, not the gospel as it's taught in America, but true Scripture.

Sadly that isn't the case.

I've read many of the so-called Christian books and in most of them the Christian element is barely there. And the supposed Christian characters are often living their lives the same way every other person is, chasing the world and it's glories.

Whether there are three books on the shelf or three thousand the outcome is the same. There may be a book there that talks of, teaches, and supports the Truths of Scripture but I will have to search hard for it...or them. I will need to know that a certain author sees and believes the real Scripture....not the version most professing Christians believe. I need to know the name of an author...or multiple authors...and search for books written by that person. I need to know that not only does that person believe the true Scriptures but that they live them. I need to know....generally more than I do...to be able to pick a book that doesn't go against Scripture. Even in the Christian section.

That's a sad thing.

What's even sadder is that when I should be able to say... Well, I'll just stick with Bibles. I can't go wrong there... I can't say that. Because I can go very wrong there. There are gender nuetral Bibles. Bibles that promote the prosperity gospel. Bibles that support... Basically for every belief in the 'Christian' circles there's a Bible that fits their beliefs. So I can't just pluck a Bible off the shelf and enjoy it. I must use discernment.

But the saddest thing of all....

Is that walking into any 'church' building, or any group of 'Christians' is much like walking into a bookstore. You may walk into a Christian bookstore but how many books in there talk of Scripture as it's really written. How many teach the Truth as Christ taught it? It's the same when you walk into a group of 'Christians' no matter the setting.

Walking into a crowd of thousands of people...all of them professing to know Christ...is enough to make your head spin. It's enough to make a person question the meaning of what a Christian is. Because today...in America...anyone can be a 'Christian'. There are people, preachers even, that claim to be Christians and yet admit they don't believe in God.

In a bookstore, if I pick up a book, I can read the back of it and get an idea of what the book is about. If that doesn't give me enough information there's generally a page in the front with a short section from somewhere in the book. If that's still not enough information I can flip through the book, read pages here and there, and see if I like the book. If that's still not enough information I can pull out my smart phone and look the book up online, read reviews, visit the authors website.

But there's nothing in a group of 'Christians' to show me who the true Christians are and who are simply professing. I have nothing to go on, no way to determine who are and are not true Christians. I heard recently that if you knocked on every door in your town and asked the person that answered if they were a born again believer most if not all of them would say yes. Something like 80% of Americans claim to be Christians.

Jesus said we will know Christians by their fruit. And we can. The trouble is that when we walk into a group of 'Christians' we often don't spend enough time with any of them to be able to tell who is and who is not. It's like trying to grab a Bible off the shelf in a super sized Christian bookstore and hope you get the one that lines up with true Scripture, one that hasn't been changed or watered down to be what the reader wants it to be.

We can pick someone out of the crowd, speak with the person sitting or standing closest to us, and hope that maybe they understand Scripture as we do.  But finding someone that truly understands the truths of Scripture, that lives for the Lord, that's regenerated, born again.... is like putting on a blindfold and walking into that same super sized Christian bookstore, the one that sells hundreds of Bibles, and without asking for directions, without having anyone help you, walking to the Bible section and picking out a Bible that doesn't promote any other doctrine, any other belief, but the Word of God.

All things are pure

I had the privilege of studying Scripture with my husband this morning. This isn’t an unusual happening in our home but recent events have kept us from it for far too long. Studying Scripture with my husband is one of the joys in my life. Today we read through Titus. We’ve done it before and will probably do it again but that was the book for today. Something in it caught my attention…not for the first time…but it stuck with me.

To the pure, all things are pure, but to the defiled and unbelieving, nothing is pure; but both their minds and their consciences are defiled. Titus 1:15

This is a topic that comes up between my husband and I from time to time. It is something that gets brought up when the unregenerate point out that we do ‘such and such’ thing and therefore it must be an idol.

I’m not saying we…as regenerate people…can’t make idols of things. We can. The difference is we usually realize what’s happening long before we get to the point of letting it be an idol.

Somewhere on the journey to Christ that I have taken I got caught up in the healthy eating movement. Rather I got caught up in the healthy lifestyle movement and let it consume my eating. I’m still cautious in my eating but I no longer spend hours and hours researching it. In fact I no longer research it at all.

I well know that I let it become an idol in my life. I don’t know where I was in this journey at that point. Was I regenerate at that time? I don’t know. If I was I didn’t know it. Didn’t know what the true meaning of being born again was.

There are other things that have been idols in my life over the years. Some in the not too terribly distant past.

It happens. But once we’re regenerate we see it for what it is…sooner or later…and we are grieved by it. We turn back to the Lord, ask for forgiveness, and do better.

I’d never heard anyone define the difference between what is pure or okay for the regenerate as opposed to what it is…or isn’t… for the unregenerate until my husband.

I didn’t know until him that there were different standards for those that are ‘in Christ’ and those that aren’t.

I didn’t know that the regenerate live under the Lord’s grace and mercy but the unregenerate do not.  The unregenerate are left to their own desires, they’re left to chase after whatever idol catches their attention today…and tomorrow…and the next day. They’re left to their own desires because the Lord has given them over to them.

Therefore God gave them up in the lusts of their hearts to impurity, to the dishonoring of their bodies among themselves, ²⁵ because they exchanged the truth about God for a lie and worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator, who is blessed forever! Amen. Romans 1:24-25

The Lord restrains those that are His. And He lets the others go.

Forgiveness

A Scriptural study on forgiveness could take us deeply into the Bible and last for days if not weeks or months. Not only can we strictly study forgiveness but we can get into all the places where forgiveness is implied. That is beyond the scope of what I hope to cover in this blog post.

My aim here is simply to cover forgiveness in a way I’d never thought of until I heard someone say something that made me stop in my tracks, mentally anyway.

The word forgiveness is mentioned in the New International Version of the Bible 14 times, all but one of those in the New Testament. The word forgive is mentioned 42 times in the Old Testament and 33 times in the New Testament. If we look up forgiven we see it 17 times in the Old Testament and 28 times in the New Testament. And if we add in forgiving we find it 6 times in the Old Testament, once in the New Testament. That means the word forgive, in some form, is mentioned in the NIV version of the Bible 141 times.

That’s a lot of forgiveness.

In Matthew 6:12 the Lord’s prayer tells us…

and forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors.

We are to forgive. I think that may be one of the easily understood rules of Scripture. Even those that are barely familiar with the Scriptures seem to know that forgiveness is required.

For so long I simply thought forgiveness was something we did when someone wronged us. I have said many times that I don’t need for forgive someone for something because they didn’t do it to me.

But then I heard forgiveness put in a different way. But before I can get into that I need to back up just a little and explain something else.

People are born into sin. If you’ve been reading my blog very long you’ve seen me comment on that before. We are all, by nature, sinful. We commit sin. We live in sin. The regenerate can better control sin and we are grieved by sin.

It grieves us to sin against our Lord.

It grieves us to know we hurt Him.

That doesn’t stop us from sinning but it does keep us in line. The unregenerate aren’t grieved by their sins. They don’t have that line. They live in sin, more often than not unable to even see that what they are doing is wrong much less that it’s sin. Professing ‘Christians’ will sometimes label something as sin but will usually miss a good part of what sin truly is.

The unregenerate, whether they profess to know Christ or not, go on living in sin. They are slaves to that sin. Each person has something that rules their lives and they live with whatever it is.

I used to see all these people as making bad choices. Drug addicts are simply people that made choices that got them addicted and they keep making bad choices. Alcoholics…I saw the same way. Liars are to be tolerated. And so on and so on.

I saw them as people making bad choices. Until the day it was pointed out to me that they are on the path the Lord placed them on. That they are slaves to their sins because the Lord has given them over to it. And that I need to not only be grateful that I’m not on that path but that I need to remember that I’m on the path I’m on only by the grace of God. And that these people were placed on that path. Some of them live in ecstasy, some in misery but they are all there because the Lord put them on that path.

I still struggle with this. I struggle with my tendency to see people as making bad choices, as choosing this or choosing that. I have a hard time feeling compassion for someone that tells me they can’t get their life together when I know they go out partying. I have a hard time feeling compassion for someone that says they have no money when they admit to smoking cigarettes. We all have our priorities…or so my human minds tend to think. And I forget that they were placed on their path just as I was placed on mine.

And that’s where forgiveness becomes something I never thought it was. It goes deeper. It’s not just looking at someone that has wronged me and forgiving them for doing so. It’s looking at strangers and knowing that their path is what it is not by their choosing but by the Lord’s. That they are on that path, quite possibly so that I can be on mine.

What if God, desiring to show his wrath and to make known his power, has endured with much patience vessels of wrath prepared for destruction, ²³ in order to make known the riches of his glory for vessels of mercy, which he has prepared beforehand for glory—Romans 9:22-23

It seems a lot of my blog posts are going back to those verses in Romans 9 here lately. But they make such a powerful statement. And explain so much.

If God has prepared people that he endures with much patience so that he can make His glory known to me. Then I must somehow find it in myself to remember that when my human nature wants to say…you chose to live that way.

I must forgive them whether they have directly wronged me or not. I must remember that they were placed on their path just as I was placed on mine.

 

 

What if God...

I’ve had in mind to write a post for a while. One that has been nagging at me, picking at me, never fully forming but never letting me go either. Maybe it’s the Lord’s way of telling me He wants me to write this, or maybe it’s my Spirit…afraid that I will write it in the flesh and not in the Spirit.

You see, for me, this is a difficult post. I struggle with the very idea of writing it. I struggle with the topic, with the concept. I struggle because…

I don’t know why.

But I have struggled with it. And yet the idea won’t leave me alone.

My husband is far ahead of me in his journey with Christ. He sees Scripture and life in a way that I don’t yet. And that’s okay. It’s how it should be. I wouldn’t want to be ahead of him. I want him to guide me.

But I know too, that I am ahead of some. Ahead of many if you take into consideration those that are unregenerate. Normally, when I write a blog post it just comes to me…easy and natural. Without any effort on my part. This isn’t one of those posts. It isn’t coming easy, I’m not sure I have it in me to write this, and yet the idea just won’t leave me alone.

And so I’m going to write it.

Please bear with me if it’s choppy or otherwise wrong. I’m writing it because I can’t not write it…not because I want to.

A few days ago I wrote a post that I titled vessels. In it I hinted at this post…a post I had not yet written but a post I knew would come one day soon. Here is what I put in that post…

That brings me to a topic I want to cover in another post but will briefly touch on here. The Lord has planned our paths since before the beginning of time. I once said I wished the Lord would just reach down and put me where He wanted me. When I got off the path He'd reach down and move me back. Like a pawn in a game board. When I said that my mother told me to be careful what I was saying because living like that would be a bad thing. But for me it wouldn't be. I said that before I fully understood the Truths of Scripture. Now I know I'm nothing but a pawn in the Lord's game. He does put me where he wants me. And since He does, since the plan for my life was long ago mapped out...what and who had to be in place at certain points in my life to get me to where the Lord wanted me so that He could save me when He did. The people, good and bad, that were in my life...the experiences, good and bad...all added up to making sure I was who and what the Lord wanted me to be at the moment that He moved me into the next place. To get me to the point that He could save me...how many people crossed my path and effected who I was? How many people helped test and strengthen my faith? How many people helped break my spirit? How many vessels of destruction might the Lord have had to use to get me to be the person He wanted me to be?

 

There is something in Scripture that I still struggle with. Something I can’t fully understand. I’ve thought on it, prayed on it, discussed it with my husband. And yet…I still don’t fully understand. There are verses that imply that we are puppets on the Lord’s string, that we are pawns in His game. Arminians firmly believe that we have free will. The freedom to choose whether to believe in Christ or not. This belief in free will goes far beyond the freedom to choose Christ. It is a deep held belief that we have the freedom to choose anything.

But do we?

If the Lord is sovereign, if He has a plan for us…Do we have the freedom to choose anything? That is where I struggle. My husband tells me that we can choose some things and that the Lord will use it all to His glory. He will use our choices to bring about His plan. That when we step away from Him the Lord will draw us back.

Okay. I can understand that. But then I get to that point where I wonder just what I was allowed to choose and what was just a part of ‘The Plan’ as my daughter put it.

My husband often refers to my writing as an example. He tells me that the people I write about have no say in how the story goes. That because I am the author, I’m the one writing, everything is my choice. It’s my plan. It’s my story. And the people are in my story to serve a purpose.

I can understand that too. But I know…as a writer…that those people never have a say in what I write.

But…that is an issue that makes no difference except in how we as people, as believers see things. It doesn’t change the way they are.

But I like being a puppet on the Lord’s string. I like knowing that He will keep me on the path He has planned for me. It makes my mess-ups easier to bear. Makes life easier to bear because I know all I have to do is trust in the Lord and He will keep me where He wants me.

But what did it take to get me to the point of regeneration?

I don’t even know when I was regenerated, born again, saved…whatever term you want to place on it…I don’t know when I took that step on this journey.

I know two people that are regenerated. Out of the hundreds, thousands, of people I know…there are only two that I know are regenerated. Out of all the people I’ve ever known…there are two that I know were regenerated. There may have been more over the years and I just didn’t know. But I know of only two in my life.

If I throw myself into the mix…that brings me to three people that I know have been truly born again. I pray that I’m wrong…that I’ve miscounted, but if there are more than the fruit has not shown the spirit.

The more I’ve gotten to know these two people that are regenerated the more I’ve seen something that has made me question. You see…here’s where ‘The Plan’ comes in, where being puppets on a string comes in. The Lord, long before time began, knew who would live and who they would be. For some reason He chose some of those people to be His, a people set apart for Him. I’ve asked myself many times what did He see in me that made Him chose me over someone else? I know it was nothing I did.

For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, ⁹ not a result of works, so that no one may boast. ¹⁰ For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them. Ephesians 2:8-10

I did nothing to gain His favor. I did nothing to earn salvation.

 I did nothing.

But for some reason He chose me. Out of all of time, out of the millions of people he could have picked…he chose me.

But…he didn’t just pick my name out of the many then forget about me. For we are his workmanship…which God prepared beforehand… I am His workmanship. He prepared me beforehand.

He prepared me.

That is what has been nagging at me, tugging at me, making me think, making me wonder. He prepared me.

He

Prepared

…Me.

How? In what way did He prepare me? What did He put in place in my life so that I could get to where He wanted me?

What did He put in the lives of the other two people I know that are regenerated so that He could save them? Save us?

If I walked into a group of people looking to find three people in the crowd that could do something for or with me I’d have an idea of what I was looking for.

Am I looking for people to help make a quilt? I’d want people that not only knew how to sew well but that knew how to piece material together, sandwich layers together, and turn it all into a quilt.

Am I moving? I’d want men that were strong enough to help carry the heavy stuff.

I may chose certain people out of a crowd and I may do it based on what appears to be who they are right now but I would need certain things to have gotten them to where I needed them today. Those quilters would have had to be taught how to sew, how to quilt, long before I walked into that crowd. The men I’d need to help me move would need the physical strength to lift on things like refrigerators and washing machines. They would need to have at least some background of physical work to get them that kind of strength. I wouldn’t be picking little girls or young boys for a job of moving heavy objects.

What, then, did the Lord put in the lives of the regenerate long before we were saved? What did He put in our lives that ensured we got to the place where He could save us?

But I say, walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh. For the desires of the flesh are against the Spirit, and the desires of the Spirit are against the flesh, for these are opposed to each other, to keep you from doing the things you want to do. But if you are led by the Spirit, you are not under the law.  Now the works of the flesh are evident: sexual immorality, impurity, sensuality, idolatry, sorcery, enmity, strife, jealousy, fits of anger, rivalries, dissensions, divisions, envy, drunkenness, orgies, and things like these. I warn you, as I warned you before, that those who do such things will not inherit the kingdom of God. But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law.  And those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. If we live by the Spirit, let us also keep in step with the Spirit. Let us not become conceited, provoking one another, envying one another. Galatians 5:15-26

I never fail to get caught up on ‘I warn you, as I warned you before, that those who do such things will not inherit the kingdom of God’. Those that do such things WILL NOT inherit the kingdom of God.  As I look down that list of things we are warned against, things we are told we cannot inherit the kingdom of God if we do, I see things I have done in my life. And yet…He saved me. Then I look at the list of the fruits of the Spirit.

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control;

Love. Peace. Patience. Kindness. Goodness. Faithfulness. Gentleness. Self-control.

Every one of those fruits are difficult to come by. They aren’t things that come naturally to man as a whole. Very few people can say they’ve always been gentle or that they’ve never struggled with self-control. They aren’t just in us. We may be blessed to come by a couple of those traits naturally but somewhere along the way, even those that are naturally patient or naturally peaceful…at some time they will struggle with something on that list.

And Scripture tells us that we aren’t naturally good. We come into this world filled with sin. And we struggle with it all of our days.

What then takes us from a sinful nature that seeks after the things we are told will keep us from inheriting the kingdom of God to having the fruits of the Spirit? What must the Lord put into place in our lives that make us into what He needs us to be when He saves us?

What?

Or who?

Of the three people I know that are regenerate, counting myself, not one of us came through childhood unscathed. We all experienced abuse. We all experienced the sort of things most parents try and protect their children from. I know there are many people with backgrounds such as ours, many children that experience abuse. Many children that learn to be adults long before they’re grown.

And most of them aren’t regenerate. Most of them are just as lost as everyone else. So…it wasn’t that. Except…was it? Did experiencing abuse as a child break us enough so that we would have a broken spirit later in life, so the Lord could save us when the time came?

Did being put in positions where we had to take care of ourselves, or others, long before we were old enough to be looking out for ourselves mature us so that we would have the maturity to give up the things of the world and seek after Christ?

It’s well understood that children that are given everything they want in childhood grow up to be selfish adults. It’s understood that children that live without discipline become brats.

I have a friend who very recently shared a philosophy of hers on raising children. In it she said that habits formed in childhood create the habits and personality of the person in adulthood. I doubt there’s anyone out there that would dispute that belief. What we are as children is usually what we become as adults. Usually…but not always.

I know someone that was very self-centered as a child. This person was violent and didn’t care if they hurt others. They aren’t that way as an adult. This person now cares about others. This person is helpful and considerate of others.

But even with the changes that took place in that persons personality their childhood still impacted who they are today. As parents we try to guide and mold our children into what we want them to become.

My daughter has a friend whose parents are both professionals. These parents have raised this girl to understand that college isn’t an option. The girl has said that very thing to my daughter. That she must go to college. In her family that is just the way it is. College is expected. A profession is expected. These parents have raised their children so that they believe they must go to college.

I don’t share those beliefs. Neither does my husband. Out of seven children, three of which are grown, one that soon will be, we have none seeking college. None that are after a profession. We simply have not ingrained into our children the belief that college is important.

We didn’t put the idea of college and a profession into our children’s lives when they were young and they aren’t seeking it now.

What did the Lord put in our paths in childhood that prepared us for the life He wanted us to live? What did He keep out of our paths that protected us from seeking things that would have taken us away from Him?

Romans 9:22-23 says…

What if God, desiring to show his wrath and to make known his power, has endured with much patience vessels of wrath prepared for destruction, ²³ in order to make known the riches of his glory for vessels of mercy, which he has prepared beforehand for glory—

As I look back over my life I can see many people that affected my life. Many people that affected the choices I made. Because I knew that person, or because I saw that person’s life and the turns it took, I made choices that kept me off a certain path. There were people in my life that shaped my personality, experiences I had that affected my very nature…my spirit…my soul.

What if God…put those people there to make me who I am?

What if God…made me go through those experiences so that I could become who and what He wanted me to be?

What if God…planned it all ahead of time?

What if…I’m only a puppet on His string? Living the life He’s placed me in, experiencing the things He wants me to experience.

What if…

Only I don’t need the what if because I firmly believe the Lord did have a plan for my life, he did have everything mapped out, knowing ahead of time what He wanted me to be, and making everything work out so that I would become the person He wanted in the time He wanted me to be that person.

But I didn’t always see it that way. And even now…I marvel at the idea that those things I saw as so bad in childhood may well have been the very things that shaped me into who I became so that the Lord could save me.

I had a plan

I took a trip with my sister a few years ago. When we left the house we had a plan for how that trip would go. We knew where we wanted to be when, how many miles we had to drive each day, and what we wanted to do. We had a plan. My sister had even gone online and mapped it all out down to the best routes to take and what the weather was going to be where.

We had a plan but almost from the minute we pulled out of the driveway that plan was changed through very little fault of our own.

The first change in plans was the need to buy tires. That was an unexpected expense when we had no extra money for the trip. From there things just kept changing on us. The weather that was supposed to be mild and warm turned very cold. The plan to spend every night camping turned into night after night in expensive hotels. And so the trip went.

It turned out to look very little like the trip we had planned. We managed to keep our main plans but everything else was changed. Those changes came at us hard and fast and forced us to just go with what was happening in the moment.

And do you know what?

To this day that trip is one of my most favored memories of any trip I’ve ever taken.

The journey that I’m on now…the one drawing me ever closer to Christ is much like that trip I took with my sister. I’m learning not to make plans, not to look to the future but I’m learning that through changes that keep coming at me out of the blue. Changes that force me to stop planning ahead and live in the moment. Changes that shake my world and make me see that I have no control over anything.

But…

I had a plan.

Once upon a time.

I well remember the day that I told the Lord I was tired of trying to control things. I was tired of holding tight to everything, controlling-or so I thought-everything, right down to the little details. I handed my life fully over to Him that day. What I didn’t realize when I did that was that He already had full control of my life.

I remember, too, the day I learned to be grateful for everything. Even the bad stuff. I stood in my kitchen and thanked the Lord for something I wasn’t at all grateful for. I told Him I had no idea why I was supposed to be thankful for the bad things but that I knew He would use it for my good and so…thank you. Not the most grateful prayer, I know, but that day it was the best I could do.

I still haven’t found it in myself to be grateful for losing my baby. I just can’t. I know it was the Lord’s will. I know He has a plan that is so much greater than anything I could ever imagine. I know He will use even this for His purpose. But I can’t be grateful.

I’ve tried telling myself that the Lord may have saved my baby from a lifetime of pain. Or a slow agonizing death. Or… But nothing I tell myself has yet to make me grateful for the loss of my child.

There have been many things in my life that I didn’t thank the Lord for. Times when I struggled or hurt and it wasn’t until years later that I was grateful for what I went through. This may wind up being one of those things or I may never be grateful. Not for the loss.

I am grateful for the time I had with my baby, however brief it was. And I can see now, daily, how the life and loss of that baby is changing me. Molding me into something I wasn’t before.

Sometimes I wonder if the changes will stay. Sometimes I wonder if it will be good if they do. I can see how the experience has drawn me closer to Christ. But I can also see that it has caused other changes in me…changes that I don’t yet know if they’re good or bad.

I wonder, as I write this, if that is the kind of thing I should be writing and posting online. Should my blog be kept strictly uplifting? Edifying? And yet…we all struggle. Our faith doesn’t stop the struggles. It doesn’t stop the pain. It gives us a hope that the unregenerate don’t have but the trials and the struggles persist. We must face them, get through them.

And so…I will post of my struggles. Of my own thoughts, doubts, and wonders. So that you, my reader, can experience them with me.

This second

Scripture tells us we are to set our minds on the things above not on the things of the earth. Once I found that a difficult task but as my journey took me closer to Christ I discovered it wasn’t hard at all. My soul started looking to those things above without any help from me.

Without me knowing quite how it happened Christ became my constant companion. He’s there when I wake up in the morning, there as I go through my day, there when I fall asleep at night. I know He’s there because I feel His presence in me.

But while I’m looking on the things above there is the earthly part of my life. The everyday happenings that go on with me and around me.

Last night I was reminded of something.

Somewhere I read a saying that went something like treasure those you love because someday God will need them back. I never forget to love my family and friends. Never forget to tell them I love them. But sometimes in the busyness of the day I may forget to show them. I may forget to enjoy them.

Right now, as I lay in bed trying to hold onto the baby in my womb, I am learning to treasure every second. Circumstances in my life the last seven months have taught me what it’s like to truly live in the moment, to grab onto today because it may be all I get, to enjoy what I have right here right now. I learned that lesson through circumstances I would never have chosen. I thought learning to grab onto today was as far as I could take…

Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble. Matthew 6:34

…but I was wrong. In the last twenty four hours I’ve learned it can be taken even further. While I struggle not to worry about what’s going to happen, I am learning to treasure every second.

Because this second may be all that I get.

I can’t know what the next second will bring with my unborn baby. And as I treasure each second and face the next with a world of unknowns I’m learning a lesson I’d have rather not learned in this way. I’m learning it isn’t just today, isn’t just this moment that we must be concerned with. We aren’t promised tomorrow.

But we aren’t promised another second either.

This second, this single dot in time, is all we can be assured of. Life happens in an instant. And so does death. One second a baby isn’t there, the next…conception. One second someone is alive, the next…death.

This second is precious because it may be all we ever get.

Raised on lies

My daughter told me last night that the only thing she sees when she opens a Bible is lies. She doesn’t think the Bible is filled with lies but to her the Bible represents everything she grew up being told and believing and because my faith, my belief, the way I see Scripture has changed that has taken all those lessons she learned as a child and made lies of them.

When she said that it sent waves of shock through me but after the surprise of what she said and how she said it wore off I realized something…all those years I spent going to ‘church’ services, all those years I was raised as a ‘Christian’, all the things I was told and taught to believe…when I started seeing the truths in Scripture I came face to face with the exact thing she was describing last night.

I remember those early days of seeing Scripture as a monergist. When I knew what I was seeing. I would come across a verse that said one thing and I had to erase everything I believed because I’d been taught wrong.

I had a very hard time with the verses about the elect, about the Lord choosing those he wishes and not saving the others. Not for myself but for my children. I’d always raised them to believe in Jesus, that they had to not only believe but also keep His commandments. Admitting, even to myself, that nothing I said or did was going to make a difference in their salvation was a very hard step to take. Letting go of the belief that if I could just ‘lead them to Christ’ and instill a deep enough belief in them that they would be saved was a step I struggled to take.

I stumbled everytime I came to a verse that said all who believe, or if you confess and believe, or any of the other verses that said similar things. I struggled because my mothers mind didn’t want to let go of the belief that I could teach my children to believe so that they would be saved.

There were other things I struggled through too, where what I’d been taught all my life came up against what I was reading and seeing in Scripture, but none of those things were as hard to change my belief on as the belief that if I just taught my children right, raised them right, that they would be saved.

But with every  belief I had challenged I began to lose a little more of my confidence in the ‘Christian’ upbringing I’d had, I lost more and more faith in everything I thought I knew. My foundation was shaken. Lies…I had been fed lies. Lies at the hands of those entrusted with the spiritual well-being of so many people. Lies at the hands of those that raised me to be a ‘Christian.’ Lies at the hands of those that assured me my salvation was set.

My daughter was right. We were fed a pack of lies and I swallowed a good number of them. Not only did I swallow them but I turned around and fed them back to my children. Time after time. Day after day. And as I put each spoonful of lies into their young souls, souls that were soaking up everything I taught them, I firmly believed what I was teaching them because it was what I had been taught. And all the preachers and all the Bible study and Sunday school teachers couldn’t be wrong. Nor could all those ‘Christian’ books. I fed those lies to my children, piece by piece, bite by bite, teaching them to believe so they’d grow up to believe.

And I did it all because I loved them and I was worried about their souls.

Now here I am…so many years after becoming a mother for the first time…and discovering I raised my children on lies. There were things I told them over the years, taught them when they were young, that truly were lies. Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny….outright lies. Lies I corrected. But the lies of being a ‘Christian’… I don’t yet know that all those lies have been corrected in me.

And even now, knowing what I do, believing as I do, there are still things I hesitate to tell my children. Verses I don’t want to introduce them to. Because some of those beliefs they hold, some of the things taught to most ‘Christians’, are so much easier to swallow than the real truths are.

When my daughter told me everything she’d ever been taught to believe was a lie it made me pause, made me stop and think, made me wonder. It pushed me out of my comfort zone, it challenged me. And it made me think, and think, and think.

There was nothing I could have done to stop the change in the way I believed. I didn’t choose to believe the way I do, didn’t choose to see things the way I do. But back when I first started understanding what I was seeing I tried to share that with my daughter. I tried to bring her on the journey with me. Because she was my daughter, because she was my sidekick. Because what I did she did with very few exceptions. And because I decided I didn’t want to continue going through life not showing my children the depth of my faith.

So I showing them.

And in doing so I pushed my daughter further from the Lord than she had ever been. All because I was trying to correct the lies. To show her the truths that I hadn’t shown her before. But it wasn’t until she told me that what she’d been raised on was all a bunch of lies that I realized that I too had been raised on lies.

I had forgotten

The first step I can remember taking on this journey to Christ was when my second child was born with heart problems. In what seemed like an instant I learned what it meant to depend on the Lord because I had nothing else to see me through. In that moment I went from going through life mostly able to control what was happening around me, or so I thought, to having no control at all. I did what everyone does in those situations.

I prayed.

And prayed.

And prayed.

Then I kept on praying. I prayed through days of holding my daughter because I was afraid to put her down. I prayed through nights of sleeping with her on my chest because that was the only place she seemed able to get comfortable…and it was the only place I was comfortable with her being. I prayed through doctor’s visits and tests. I prayed through surgery.

My faith took a turn through all of that. I was dragged onto a path I couldn’t see then. Over the nearly twelve years since that daughter was born I’ve taken more and more steps, been pulled further and further onto the path, had my faith deepened until everything I am hinges on my faith in the Lord.

But I had forgotten.

I remembered what it was like in those early days and years with my daughter. I remembered what we went through. I remembered that time as being rough physically and emotionally. I remembered the worry, the fear, the helplessness.

But I had forgotten.

I had forgotten the soul deep fear. The near terror that fills your heart and mind as you fear for your child. And the total dependence on the Lord. A dependence that is brought on by the fact that you are afraid and helpless. I had forgotten what it was like to pray for your child’s life.

Last night I was reminded. This time the fear and worry, the prayers, are all for my unborn baby. I’d do anything I could to save this baby and yet I can do nothing.

Nothing but wait. Nothing but pray.

Prayer is my strongest weapon. I know that. I have complete faith in the Lord. I know he has a plan for my baby, for me but that doesn’t make this time any easier.

There are other situations in my life right now where I know I’m totally dependent on the Lord for the outcome, other situations where I’d like to make things happen a certain way. But as hard as those things are they haven’t come with this soul deep fear. And it’s that fear that reminded me what it’s like to be fearfully in dependence on my Lord. To put my faith in Him when my fears threaten to take over.

It was a reminder I’d rather not have had. It’s a reminder I got anyway.