“But God doesn't call us to be comfortable. He calls us to trust Him so completely that we are unafraid to put ourselves in situations where we will be in trouble if He doesn't come through.”
-- Francis Chan
Monday, November 19, 2012
Monday, September 24, 2012
Confused
Tried, really tried, to convey how I'm feeling to Tim Friday night, but I'm not sure he really gets it. I am still being bombarded by the same message over and over again: Trust God. Honestly, I am so bombarded with this theme that I am beginning to feel a little paranoid, so for the record: I hear you, Lord. I do. I am just not sure what you want me to do about it.
What's really stunning to me is that Tim sits through many of the same things and doesn't detect the theme. Until Sunday. Sunday he really couldn't ignore. Sunday, the pastor (and it's his favorite pastor, the one he truly respects and admires) got up and preached an entire sermon on trusting God -- even if what you're being called to do seems crazy, even if you aren't sure where it will end up. Bonus: the Sunday School lessons we were teaching were also about trusting God.
Now do you see the theme? Oh yes, there it is. Thankyouverymuch.
Still, I am left in limbo. I am just hanging here, wondering what God wants me to do with this. I know we blew it a few weeks ago, I know our inaction was a sin. I know this, like I know my own name. I also know what I think we should do, but my husband doesn't agree. His take? He says the "sign" that we shouldmove forward would be if the little boy we were considering would appear on the list we were watching again. Again. This is tantamount to a miracle, because once they're gone, that's usually it. I think maybe if he appeared on any list at all that would qualify, but again, so unlikely as to require divine intervention.
This is where I am murky. Can God do this? Absolutely. Will he? Not sure. I know he is abounding in mercy and slow to anger, but let's face it: we blew it twice on this same issue. How many chances do we get? Do I even dare ask for one more? I asked for a second chance and we got it and failed. Miserably, spectacularly. I am of the opinion that if by some miracle we were afforded a third chance, I would have to push the issue. I think -- and this is really just a hunch -- that Tim is avoiding looking this whole thing in the eye because he really doesn't want to act. He'd rather feign ignorance than commit.
And I am trapped in my grief, my guilt, my two-pronged worry over disobeying God and turning our backs on a child in need. Depraved indifference, I think it's called.
God, we are so pathetic. We are so guilty of promoting our own agendas, of exalting our petty, selfish desires over your greater good. Of substituting the things of the world for the higher things of your kingdom. I am so sorry, Lord. How aware I am right now of my need for forgiveness, of my essential brokeness. Father, forgive. Father, heal. Father, help. I don't want to fail You again.
What's really stunning to me is that Tim sits through many of the same things and doesn't detect the theme. Until Sunday. Sunday he really couldn't ignore. Sunday, the pastor (and it's his favorite pastor, the one he truly respects and admires) got up and preached an entire sermon on trusting God -- even if what you're being called to do seems crazy, even if you aren't sure where it will end up. Bonus: the Sunday School lessons we were teaching were also about trusting God.
Now do you see the theme? Oh yes, there it is. Thankyouverymuch.
Still, I am left in limbo. I am just hanging here, wondering what God wants me to do with this. I know we blew it a few weeks ago, I know our inaction was a sin. I know this, like I know my own name. I also know what I think we should do, but my husband doesn't agree. His take? He says the "sign" that we shouldmove forward would be if the little boy we were considering would appear on the list we were watching again. Again. This is tantamount to a miracle, because once they're gone, that's usually it. I think maybe if he appeared on any list at all that would qualify, but again, so unlikely as to require divine intervention.
This is where I am murky. Can God do this? Absolutely. Will he? Not sure. I know he is abounding in mercy and slow to anger, but let's face it: we blew it twice on this same issue. How many chances do we get? Do I even dare ask for one more? I asked for a second chance and we got it and failed. Miserably, spectacularly. I am of the opinion that if by some miracle we were afforded a third chance, I would have to push the issue. I think -- and this is really just a hunch -- that Tim is avoiding looking this whole thing in the eye because he really doesn't want to act. He'd rather feign ignorance than commit.
And I am trapped in my grief, my guilt, my two-pronged worry over disobeying God and turning our backs on a child in need. Depraved indifference, I think it's called.
God, we are so pathetic. We are so guilty of promoting our own agendas, of exalting our petty, selfish desires over your greater good. Of substituting the things of the world for the higher things of your kingdom. I am so sorry, Lord. How aware I am right now of my need for forgiveness, of my essential brokeness. Father, forgive. Father, heal. Father, help. I don't want to fail You again.
Friday, August 31, 2012
And Along with Entropy Came
guilt, pain, and sorrow. The perfect trifecta of failure.
Hindsight is 20/20, my mother always says, and in this case she is so very right. I know -- I knew -- God was speaking to us. I couldn't pick up a devotional or hear a sermon that didn't reiterate over and over "trust ME." I could barely read a blog that didn't hammer home the same point. Again and again and again.
How arrogant of me, how wilfully obtuse, to say I wasn't sure what God wanted me to do. I might as well have stuck my fingers in my ears and sung 'La la la, I Can't Hear You."
Most galling, most humiliating, is that this is the second time I've done this.
But, you say, God is loving and kind, his mercies are new every morning. True dat. But I am wallowing a bit right now and not ready to cut myself any slack. I need to really feel this; grieve it, even. I am broken right now over my sin. And I think being broken in this way is not necessarily a bad thing. And yes, God knew how I (we) would react in this situation. This hasn't caught him off guard. Me it walloped upside the head, but God already knew about the fault lines in my character, my faith, my heart.
San Andreas, baby. So big, and so unstable.
But there is hope. It's buried right now, but I know it's there, even though I can't see it or feel it. God promises he will "redeem the years the locust has eaten." Ha (and you can make that a bitter, cynical 'ha' if you like). I thought that verse, which has been swimming around in my head for about a month now, was about adoption. Turns out it was about me. God knew I was going to need some assurance that I am not entirely ready for the scrap heap just yet.
Will we adopt? I don't know. I am really murky on this one, mainly because I was more invested in this one particular child than I realized or wanted to admit. The question has really been "will you adopt him?" And now that door appears to be firmly shut. If you wait long enough, if you waffle and procrastinate and fail to decide, God will find someone to fulfill his purposes in your place. So take that, Sir Lather of Indecision - you've been punked.
So where do I go now? Nowhere. I am going to sit with my sackcloth and ashes for a while yet. For whatever reason, I have to fully experience this. Maybe it's necessary so I can die to my self-life all over again. I see now, really see with sharp, painful clarity, that this is a process I am going to struggle with until I am with Him.
Hindsight is 20/20, my mother always says, and in this case she is so very right. I know -- I knew -- God was speaking to us. I couldn't pick up a devotional or hear a sermon that didn't reiterate over and over "trust ME." I could barely read a blog that didn't hammer home the same point. Again and again and again.
How arrogant of me, how wilfully obtuse, to say I wasn't sure what God wanted me to do. I might as well have stuck my fingers in my ears and sung 'La la la, I Can't Hear You."
Most galling, most humiliating, is that this is the second time I've done this.
But, you say, God is loving and kind, his mercies are new every morning. True dat. But I am wallowing a bit right now and not ready to cut myself any slack. I need to really feel this; grieve it, even. I am broken right now over my sin. And I think being broken in this way is not necessarily a bad thing. And yes, God knew how I (we) would react in this situation. This hasn't caught him off guard. Me it walloped upside the head, but God already knew about the fault lines in my character, my faith, my heart.
San Andreas, baby. So big, and so unstable.
But there is hope. It's buried right now, but I know it's there, even though I can't see it or feel it. God promises he will "redeem the years the locust has eaten." Ha (and you can make that a bitter, cynical 'ha' if you like). I thought that verse, which has been swimming around in my head for about a month now, was about adoption. Turns out it was about me. God knew I was going to need some assurance that I am not entirely ready for the scrap heap just yet.
Will we adopt? I don't know. I am really murky on this one, mainly because I was more invested in this one particular child than I realized or wanted to admit. The question has really been "will you adopt him?" And now that door appears to be firmly shut. If you wait long enough, if you waffle and procrastinate and fail to decide, God will find someone to fulfill his purposes in your place. So take that, Sir Lather of Indecision - you've been punked.
So where do I go now? Nowhere. I am going to sit with my sackcloth and ashes for a while yet. For whatever reason, I have to fully experience this. Maybe it's necessary so I can die to my self-life all over again. I see now, really see with sharp, painful clarity, that this is a process I am going to struggle with until I am with Him.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Entropy
Confused emotions right now. Second chances have evaporated because we couldn't get on the same page long enough to do anything. Instead we did what I hate about us most: we dithered around, talked it all sideways, hemmed, hawed, extrapolated, worried, waffled and did nothing.
We looked at this opportunity and instead of taking it, we slid back into the homogenous mass that is the rest of the world. We refused to stand out, to be different, to do what most people wouldn't dream of doing. Instead we played it safe, chose the easy road; when in doubt, we didn't.
All I have in my cup right now is anger and shame. Oh, and frustration. Lots of that.
We looked at this opportunity and instead of taking it, we slid back into the homogenous mass that is the rest of the world. We refused to stand out, to be different, to do what most people wouldn't dream of doing. Instead we played it safe, chose the easy road; when in doubt, we didn't.
All I have in my cup right now is anger and shame. Oh, and frustration. Lots of that.
Monday, August 6, 2012
For Posterity
Last week was a week of struggle. I wrestled with some things that I needed to see about myself. Some ugly things that did not increase my self esteem.
My fear.
My obsessive need for security and control.
My lukewarm attitude toward God.
And of course, how connected these things are. A leads to B, which leads to C. I had to really face a crossroads: knowing these things about myself, was I going to continue on, giving God my leftovers, or was I going to step out and take a risk for God, do something that demanded a level of faith and trust that I wasn't at all sure I could handle?
Now, normally I cannot spout Bible verses, particularly when I need them, but last week God started throwing verses in my face. So many verses that I started writing them down because they were utterly relevant and I did not want to miss what God was saying to me. Here's what they said:
"Bring the whole tithe into the storehouse that there may be food in my house. Test me in this," says the Lord Almighty, "and see if I will not throw open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing that you will not have room for it." Malachi 3:10 (When was the last time you read Malachi? Right. Me too.)
"Blessed is the man
My fear.
My obsessive need for security and control.
My lukewarm attitude toward God.
And of course, how connected these things are. A leads to B, which leads to C. I had to really face a crossroads: knowing these things about myself, was I going to continue on, giving God my leftovers, or was I going to step out and take a risk for God, do something that demanded a level of faith and trust that I wasn't at all sure I could handle?
Now, normally I cannot spout Bible verses, particularly when I need them, but last week God started throwing verses in my face. So many verses that I started writing them down because they were utterly relevant and I did not want to miss what God was saying to me. Here's what they said:
"Bring the whole tithe into the storehouse that there may be food in my house. Test me in this," says the Lord Almighty, "and see if I will not throw open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing that you will not have room for it." Malachi 3:10 (When was the last time you read Malachi? Right. Me too.)
"Blessed is the man
who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked
or stand in the way of sinners
or sit in the seat of mockers.
But his delight is in
the law of the Lord,
and on his law he meditates day and night.
He is like a tree
planted by streams of water,
which yields its fruit in season
and whose leaf does not wither.
Whatever he does prospers." Psalm 1:1-3
"Anyone, then, who knows the good he ought to do and doesn't do it, sins." James 4:17
"I will not leave you as orphans, I will come to you." John 14:18
"Unless the Lord builds the house, they labor in vain who build it." Psalm 127
"If anyone has material possessions and sees his brother in need but has no pity on him, how can the love of God be in him?" 1 John 3:17
"I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord. "Plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you a hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11
"Nothing is impossible with God." Luke 1:37
"The Lord will restore the years the locust has eaten" Joel 2:25 (this last one seems to have been specifically designed to counter my fears about coping with a child who has suffered so much loss)
The last piece of the puzzle for me was this blog entry by Shannan Martin, which absolutely laid bare my argument about "not having peace," -- which was really code for: scared to death and looking for an out. If God doesn't speak to us through fear, then all this brouhaha churning around in my soul has only two possible sources: me and my own frail humanity, or the enemy. Take your pick. I am certainly flawed enough to be entirely at fault, and I am certainly weak enough to be vulnerable to attack. Drat my overactive imagination...my worst-case-scenario-extrapolate-to-doomsday mentality.
My feeling now is that we need to go forward until God stops us. Tonight, Tim and I will hammer this thing out and see if we can reach some kind of consensus. I see so many ways -- opportunities -- to trust God in this: for finances, for travel, for transitions, for parenting skills, for the growth and faith of our current children...it's all just out there, out of our control. If we do this, we will have to rely on Him, because it's totally beyond our experience and expertise to do any of this. We will be living out our trust in God in a visible, tangible way. I think there could be great power in this, for us and more importantly for our kids.
Not to mention the huge difference it would make for one small boy in Chin@.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Second Chances??
Let's be extremely honest. I have not blogged in a while -- a long while -- because I have been running away from things. Blogging - writing, really -- is one way I process stuff and therefore doing it would be facing the things I have been trying to avoid. So I have spent the last 2.4 months hiding from myself, my husband, and most especially my God.
This does not work out as well as you might expect.
What, exactly, have I been hiding from, you might ask? Adoption, I would have to answer. And no one would fault you for wondering what the heck I mean by hiding from something that all my previous writing would indicate that I have yearned for for several years. Why, then, when everything seemed in train to get the proverbial ball rolling, would I suddenly flee in the opposite direction as though pursued by rabid wolves?
Indeed.
In my arrogance, I thought I could step up and do this thing. I had a very "Go Big or Go Home" mentality. But when it came down to it, when an actual child was in front of us, when the question wasn't "will you adopt," but "will you adopt him?" I did not "go big." And part of what I've been hiding from is the realization that I am much, much weaker than I would like to admit and that as much as I would like to blithely tell everyone to "just trust God," I appear to have a long way to go in this department.
The other part of this shindig that I've run away from is God. Hiding always seems like a good idea when you are afraid you will be asked to do what you are not sure you can do. I did not want to see or hear from God, just in case He was a little too clear on what he wanted me to do.
Then there was my husband, who finally got on the bandwagon only to find a wife who quite literally lost it. That does a little number on your confidence, let me tell you, and doesn't exactly build up the confidence destroyer, either.
It all came to a head about 2 weeks ago. I had been hiding so efficiently that my husband didn't even know what was going on. For some odd reason, I got on the photolisting page of the agency we'd been working with and discovered that the little boy we'd been considering was gone. This meant he had probably been matched with someone else. I should have felt relieved.
Instead, I felt annihilated. All the failure, the spiritual duplicity, the ugly facets of my personality that I had been trying to hard not to see, burst wide open on me and I knew, without a doubt, that I had failed God utterly. With all the clarity of hindsight, I looked back over the whole situation and saw a child whose medical needs were negligible at best, who was as close to perfect as we could ask for, and who I had rejected out of fear and a pathological need to control things in my life.
Epic fail.
The dam burst one evening and I sobbed to my husband all the crap I'd been holding inside, the failure, the knowledge of my own weakness and fear, the smallness of my faith, I told him I felt like I'd failed a major test -- that God had called me and I turned away, indifferent to the plight of His children, consumed with my own selfish junk, afraid to step out in faith into what was patently not my comfort zone.
For I week I lived like this, bowed down under the weight of my failure. In the midst of this, I prayed for a second chance. I knew the child we'd been considering was lost to us, but I thought maybe in a few months we might find another child that we could commit to. I wasn't terribly hopeful -- I just hoped God wouldn't give up on us, on me.
Then, a chance peek at the photo listing again and there he was -- our boy. Back on the list for who knows what reason. A second chance? It sure feels like it.
But now I can't get my husband to even consider it -- and this may be where the real damage lies. My sin may have submarined everything. This I know: God doesn't need us to carry out His purposes. But what a privilege it would be if we could be part of them.
So here I am, in limbo again.
This does not work out as well as you might expect.
What, exactly, have I been hiding from, you might ask? Adoption, I would have to answer. And no one would fault you for wondering what the heck I mean by hiding from something that all my previous writing would indicate that I have yearned for for several years. Why, then, when everything seemed in train to get the proverbial ball rolling, would I suddenly flee in the opposite direction as though pursued by rabid wolves?
Indeed.
In my arrogance, I thought I could step up and do this thing. I had a very "Go Big or Go Home" mentality. But when it came down to it, when an actual child was in front of us, when the question wasn't "will you adopt," but "will you adopt him?" I did not "go big." And part of what I've been hiding from is the realization that I am much, much weaker than I would like to admit and that as much as I would like to blithely tell everyone to "just trust God," I appear to have a long way to go in this department.
The other part of this shindig that I've run away from is God. Hiding always seems like a good idea when you are afraid you will be asked to do what you are not sure you can do. I did not want to see or hear from God, just in case He was a little too clear on what he wanted me to do.
Then there was my husband, who finally got on the bandwagon only to find a wife who quite literally lost it. That does a little number on your confidence, let me tell you, and doesn't exactly build up the confidence destroyer, either.
It all came to a head about 2 weeks ago. I had been hiding so efficiently that my husband didn't even know what was going on. For some odd reason, I got on the photolisting page of the agency we'd been working with and discovered that the little boy we'd been considering was gone. This meant he had probably been matched with someone else. I should have felt relieved.
Instead, I felt annihilated. All the failure, the spiritual duplicity, the ugly facets of my personality that I had been trying to hard not to see, burst wide open on me and I knew, without a doubt, that I had failed God utterly. With all the clarity of hindsight, I looked back over the whole situation and saw a child whose medical needs were negligible at best, who was as close to perfect as we could ask for, and who I had rejected out of fear and a pathological need to control things in my life.
Epic fail.
The dam burst one evening and I sobbed to my husband all the crap I'd been holding inside, the failure, the knowledge of my own weakness and fear, the smallness of my faith, I told him I felt like I'd failed a major test -- that God had called me and I turned away, indifferent to the plight of His children, consumed with my own selfish junk, afraid to step out in faith into what was patently not my comfort zone.
For I week I lived like this, bowed down under the weight of my failure. In the midst of this, I prayed for a second chance. I knew the child we'd been considering was lost to us, but I thought maybe in a few months we might find another child that we could commit to. I wasn't terribly hopeful -- I just hoped God wouldn't give up on us, on me.
Then, a chance peek at the photo listing again and there he was -- our boy. Back on the list for who knows what reason. A second chance? It sure feels like it.
But now I can't get my husband to even consider it -- and this may be where the real damage lies. My sin may have submarined everything. This I know: God doesn't need us to carry out His purposes. But what a privilege it would be if we could be part of them.
So here I am, in limbo again.
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Gut Twister
After my prayer/letter/vent yesterday, I actually felt a certain calmness overtake me. For most of the day I felt okay -- lighter and even slightly happy. I also felt a rising confidence that we could actually pull this thing off.
Then, the email.
It was short -- an update that had recently come through, just translated, and it said essentially 2 things: 1. he is not interested in studying and 2. usually a steady temperament, but occasionally tantrums to the point of "convulsions."
I got cold all over.
The first part is just confusing. I know nothing of the expectations in a Chinese kindergarten. We are talking about a 4 year old, after all, and I have no clue whether this means he can't sit for 2 hours and copy characters or he would prefer to play, or what...? I wouldn't expect many 4 year olds to "study." But my over-thinking brain immediately began throwing up alarming possibilities: ADD? Delay? Oppositional/Defiant Disorder? Impairment? (see? I am really good at this). WHAT COULD IT MEAN? I mean, really: what a weird thing to say about a 4 year old.
The second part was frankly disturbing. The agency said the translator says the word is not the one used for seizures. So I guess that's good, but they are going to try to get some clarification on that because even the translator wasn't sure what they meant. And certainly all kids have tantrums from time to time. But again, WHAT DOES THIS MEAN? Everything up to this point said "quiet child, shy child, good learner, sweet disposition, etc." Now this. And of course, no context to help fill in details. Has he been removed from the foster family? Are the tantrums as a result of a major transition? Are violent tantrums something new? Is there another trigger for this behavior?
All my peace, all my courage, blown to smithereens. Because the truth is, it could mean something, or it could mean nothing. And I am VERY uncomfortable with ambiguity. I like surety, accuracy, definitive statements, verified facts.
Not much of that here. We're operating off about 8 minutes of video and one written report dated nearly 2 years ago. And of course, the update. That's all we have on which to base our decision. My stomach has been in a knot since yesterday evening.
The truth is, I don't know how this will play out. And I am on tenterhooks. Undertake, Lord. Your servant is weak and I can't see my hand before my face. I need you, your insight, your assurance, your guidance. I really really really can't do this alone.
Intervene, Lord Jesus. Be a light in this situation so that we know what to do.
Then, the email.
It was short -- an update that had recently come through, just translated, and it said essentially 2 things: 1. he is not interested in studying and 2. usually a steady temperament, but occasionally tantrums to the point of "convulsions."
I got cold all over.
The first part is just confusing. I know nothing of the expectations in a Chinese kindergarten. We are talking about a 4 year old, after all, and I have no clue whether this means he can't sit for 2 hours and copy characters or he would prefer to play, or what...? I wouldn't expect many 4 year olds to "study." But my over-thinking brain immediately began throwing up alarming possibilities: ADD? Delay? Oppositional/Defiant Disorder? Impairment? (see? I am really good at this). WHAT COULD IT MEAN? I mean, really: what a weird thing to say about a 4 year old.
The second part was frankly disturbing. The agency said the translator says the word is not the one used for seizures. So I guess that's good, but they are going to try to get some clarification on that because even the translator wasn't sure what they meant. And certainly all kids have tantrums from time to time. But again, WHAT DOES THIS MEAN? Everything up to this point said "quiet child, shy child, good learner, sweet disposition, etc." Now this. And of course, no context to help fill in details. Has he been removed from the foster family? Are the tantrums as a result of a major transition? Are violent tantrums something new? Is there another trigger for this behavior?
All my peace, all my courage, blown to smithereens. Because the truth is, it could mean something, or it could mean nothing. And I am VERY uncomfortable with ambiguity. I like surety, accuracy, definitive statements, verified facts.
Not much of that here. We're operating off about 8 minutes of video and one written report dated nearly 2 years ago. And of course, the update. That's all we have on which to base our decision. My stomach has been in a knot since yesterday evening.
The truth is, I don't know how this will play out. And I am on tenterhooks. Undertake, Lord. Your servant is weak and I can't see my hand before my face. I need you, your insight, your assurance, your guidance. I really really really can't do this alone.
Intervene, Lord Jesus. Be a light in this situation so that we know what to do.
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