"Good" Enough Isn't Good Enough

Be perfect, therefore, as your Heavenly Father is perfect.  Matthew 5:48

It is becoming clear to me that when writing these posts, it is not me speaking to you so much as it is God teaching me and allowing me to share the experience with others. 

This past week my lesson has been on the subject of compromise.  More specifically, my compromises with Him.  I have been alerted to the little corners I like to cut, actions and choices that are not necessarily sinful in themselves but that constitute a turning away from what I know in my heart is the Holy Spirit's quiet direction.  So, when it seems I am not listening to that quiet direction, God speaks a little more loudly to get my attention.

I had chosen at random, or so it seemed to me, to take C.S. Lewis's Mere Christianity to work with me on Thursday for reading on my lunch break.  I love his writing, and have read this book before.  But as I idly flipped through the pages while eating, I noticed some of the familiar words touching me with new significance.  Lewis writes (and I am omitting some material for the sake of brevity:)

But we are hoping all the time that when all the demands have been met,the poor natural self will still have some chance, and some time, to get on with its own life and do what it likes.

...make no mistake: if you are really going to try to meet all the demands made on the natural self, it will not have enough left over to live on.  ...Christ says 'Give Me All. I don't want so much of your time and so much of your money and so much of your work: I want You.  I have not come to torment your natural self, but to kill it.  No half-measures are any good.

Ouch.  "Half-measures" is an accurate word to describe many of my decisions, though I profess to follow Christ.  And my attitude, without my realizing it until now, has been just what Lewis is describing.  Avoid the obvious sins, but you can still live like you want to.  Example: at work.  I think: "I can take a mental break here and read the news headlines on my phone.  I have ample time to get my work done, so nothing will really suffer."  And I do complete my work on time.  But at issue here is the attitude of my heart, and my disobedience to my superiors.  I have been told, as an employee, that I am to use the time given me to complete my tasks.  Nothing else.  And I have heard the Holy Spirit nudging me to discipline myself, and to stick to the task for which I am being paid.  And still, I have compromised, at the expense of my eternal well-being.  But now I am realizing that my being "good" enough is not good enough, if I truly want to belong to Christ.  More Lewis:

When He said, 'Be perfect,' He meant it.  He meant that we must go in for the full treatment.  It is hard; but the sort of compromise we are all hankering after is harder- in fact, it is impossible.  It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: it would be a jolly sight harder for it to learn to fly while remaining an egg.  We are like eggs at present.  And you [STEPHANIE] cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg.  We must be hatched or go bad.

Checkmate.  You got me, God, like You always do.  But I can see that my imperfections will not stand in the way of Your teaching, and that gives me hope and makes me happy.

Open Hands or Death Grip?

Who doesn't love a new blessing or an answer to prayer.  God is a Giver of very good gifts, and it can be thrilling to see His provision in a personalized way in our lives.  But I can say from personal experience that each new gift is also a test of priorities.  My heart is clingy, and it's all too easy for me to grab hold of a good thing in the way I'm only supposed to cling to God.  For example: 

Last week I discovered a brand-new, beautiful indoor pool on base.  I can't take credit; I know without a doubt that He led me there, and I am over the moon excited about it.  I had lamented to my husband not long ago that I was bored with my at-home pregnancy workouts and I really miss trail running like I loved to do before I became pregnant.  The exercise felt great, and I was invigorated by trying something new and different that I had never done before.  In between laps, my thought process started to go like this:

Wow, this is awesome.  I love this pool.  I wish I always had access to it.  What if we move?  Well, there will be pools on base wherever we go.  But what if we don't live near base? What if I can't find a good pool?  And so on.  Clearly I had begun to take it upon myself to ensure that I would have this blessing in the future.  Red flag.  Healthier thoughts would have been Thank You, Lord.  I can see once again how well You understand and anticipate my needs and desires.  I trust You to continue to meet those needs and desires in the future as You deem best for me.

But it didn't hit me until later.  As I delightedly showered off and admired the pristine locker room (complete with shampoo and swimsuit water extractor) I felt God speak to my heart.  

The heart of the matter, He helped me to realize, is not simply being grateful to God or even recognizing that every good gift comes from Him (although both are critical.)  The key to being truly blessed- as in biblically blessed, meaning to have lasting joy, to pause and appreciate His intentions for us and the totally unique love that motivates each blessing.  And to bask as much as possible in the fact that the CREATOR OF THE UNIVERSE is deeply and passionately-even jealously- in love with us.

This morning as I opened my Bible and tried to wake up, He put it to me this way: when my husband gives me a thoughtful gift, I am deeply touched by his generous love for me.  I appreciate and enjoy the gift, but my primary happiness and excitement comes from the recognition that he has been thinking of me and desired to do a selfless act for my benefit. 

Now, by the same token, I know my husband would be hurt if I only thanked him briefly (or not at all, if we're really giving a metaphor for God) and proceeded to be totally consumed and distracted by his gift.  He would probably even become angry if I started to treat that gift itself as the source of my happiness, to the point of ignoring him.

Well...you can probably guess the statement I'm about to make, but I'm going to make it anyway.  That is precisely how God feels (or says He feels in Scripture) when each one of us- closer to His Heart than even a husband or wife- cling to blessings in a way that elevates them to idol status.  Exhibit A:  Me obsessing over the pool. 

In the book of Hosea, God more or less fleshes this out for us.  Reading it is illuminating, because there's just something we don't get about the word "idolatry" that we understand better when given a human comparison.  Basically, God commands the Old Testament prophet Hosea to marry a prostitute named Gomer, knowing she will be unfaithful to him.  God then tells him that this is to symbolize God's covenant relationship to Israel (read: all humanity) which we again and again, throughout history going all the way back to the Israelites, violate when we run after idols.  A few of mine: the "perfect" body, human approval and praise, fancy indoor pools, even food.  Hosea is commanded to love her, chase after her, and remain faithful to her and care for her needs even as she cheats on him.  A powerful picture of God's merciful pursuit of us.

I challenge you, reader, to check out Hosea and as you do to consider your own false gods.  It's one of the shorter books in the Bible and you can manage it a day or two.  It's worth investing your time and will lead you to greater joy as you internalize the truth that the Source of all that is good in your life, and all you desire, is both inexaustible and hopelessly devoted to you.

Wanted

It is commonly accepted that the fundamental human need is to be loved.  It may be romantic love, or parental love, or the love of a friend or sibling or relative.  But we need it- all of our being is crying out to know that we are worthy of it.  It's at the root of our other desires- to be noticed, to merit approval, even to develop new relationships. 

Pause for a moment, and see what comes to mind when you hear the phrase "God's Love."  Or better yet, try "Jesus Loves You."   I'm willing to bet that gets a patient nod of the head and a vague acceptance at best, maybe a roll of the eyes, a heavy sigh or even a laugh at worst.  (Please forgive me, Lord, but I cringe when I see one of those bumper stickers.) 

I think our default impression of God's love for us might be somewhat misguided and even a turn-off.  First, it's vaguely collective, not uniquely personal and individual.  We generally believe that God loves humanity, and that He loves us individually in the sense that we each get a small fraction of that global love.   I used to get this mental picture of a gentle grandfatherly type or of that seventies-church-poster-Jesus with the mullet, holding a sheep and laughing.  Honestly, it doesn't really do anything for me.  (Are they sharing a private joke?  Sheep humor?) I would just shrug my shoulders and continue my search for that particular love- the knowledge that I am uniquely loved.  Passionately loved.  Pursued.

During our last deployment, when I was heartsick and lonely for my husband and my love tank was running on fumes, there was a particular song I would listen to that would fill me up again.  The loneliness was still there, but this song would cut through it and give me the reassurance I so desperately needed- that Someone was there with me, captivated by me and ready and willing to romance me.  It's a secular country love song called "Wanted" by Hunter Hayes, and nothing about it particularly says "God."  But I knew, thanks to the Holy Spirit's prodding at my heart, that that's how God really feels about us.  Maybe that song got through to me because it wasn't saturated with the traditional, religious descriptions of God's love often found in Christian music.  It was in terms my human heart could understand.  I won't share all the lyrics, but the chorus is sufficient:

 

I want to wrap you up

Want to kiss your lips

I want to make you feel wanted

I want to call you mine

Want to hold your hand forever

And never let you forget it

I want to make you feel wanted.

 

Now, I do not interpret this as Jesus literally wanting to hold my hand and kiss me, or you.  But the passion and the desire are real, and that goes for ladies and guys.  (I don't know how to interpret it for the men, or what speaks their particular love language.)   But here's the point- He wants to capture our hearts and make us His Own.  He wants us to know that He is hopelessly in love with each one of us, that we have got His attention in our own unique way, and He will never stop pursuing us.  That there is a place in His Heart reserved for us and us alone. 

How is this possible? Because He is infinite.  And infinitely creative, so He is able to romance each of us in intimate ways that only our own heart would understand and appreciate.  So listen a little closer to all those love songs, and be open to the love you were made for. 

Fear of the Unknown

Ever wake up afraid?  Sometimes I do.  Usually after a bad dream, or during times of particular stress or uncertainty.  It isn't a good feeling;  it's almost a mild panic, like I am searching around for something to reassure me that everything is really ok while my senses are saying that no, they aren't.  I woke up afraid twice today, once this morning and again just now, after an otherwise restful and lovely afternoon nap.  (No weird pregnancy dreams then, but definitely last night.  That probably contributed.)

Even now as I write this, I feel unsettled.  Ungrounded.  Which is even more disturbing to me, because if I'm honest and admit it, I am a person of great spiritual pride.  C.S. Lewis says it is the worst kind of pride, and most of the time I walk around with it because, since God is so loving and good to me, I easily assume that I am on the road to holiness and have most of the answers figured out-  even about Him.  

Yikes.  I am twenty-six; obviously I do not have things figured out.  Thankfully He is patient and merciful, and reminds me through uncomfortable experiences like this one that A) I do stumble and am often helpless to comfort or reassure myself and B) there is very, very much that I don't know.  

But while I feel His Presence here with me, gently guiding me, I am still keenly aware of this chilly, nervous feeling in my gut.  Hmmmm.  Isn't the Presence of The Lord supposed to immediately drive that away? Aren't I supposed to feel peaceful?  How is it then that I know He is here but I still feel afraid?  And what exactly am I even afraid of?

I can say, without going into detail, that I have been wrestling with a relatively minor but still very emotionally difficult situation the past few days, and I know that has something to do with my anxiety.  And the weird dream last night (again, not going into detail.  Just know that it was very detailed and was related to the aforementioned difficult situation.)  So from a secular standpoint, it would be possible to write this off altogether as a product of those factors and my pregnancy hormones.  But on a broader scale, I also just feel afraid of the uncertain future, and of the major changes coming to our lives soon.  Afraid of being a parent, especially to a newborn.  Afraid of the pain I know I will feel when my husband deploys again next year.  Afraid, always in the back of my mind, for his safety.  And above all, afraid of somehow drifting away from God.

Yesterday we went to the North Carolina Museum of Art in Raleigh, and one particular painting really tugged at me.  It was The Flight into Egypt by American artist John Singer Sargent, relatively small and dark compared to all of the grand, lavish colors around it, and tucked near the back of the gallery.  But it was its darkness that spoke to my heart.  Or rather, helped me to hear God speaking to my heart.  It looks to be that eerie time at night after the beauty of dusk when the last light is fading and most go into the light and shelter of their homes.  Mary sits on the donkey, their only comfort, leaning against Joseph and looking tired and disheartened.  (At least that is how I read her body; you can't see her face.)  Joseph looks exhausted but resolute, with a definite heaviness in his stance and expression.  All you can see of the baby Jesus is the vague outline of His head in Mary's arm and the bright glow of His halo.  The donkey looks near collapse too.  

This portrayal of the Holy Family comforted me, more so than other representations where they appear to be traveling in relative peace and contentment.  This painting showed me that their journey was difficult and dangerous, uncomfortable and fearful.  I believe that despite the direct communication they received from angels,  they were also at times discouraged and afraid.  And tired.  Just "over it," as I say sometimes.  And all of this while they were so very near to God as to be physically holding His Son in their arms.  

But they persevered, and their lives give me hope.  When I am afraid, I can remember them and the hardships they certainly faced, and know that while I do feel shaken I am still loved.  And always guided, even if I am sometimes afraid along the way.