Suffering in Obedience

Good grief, what a week. I'm experiencing the refining process of facing God's will, even though it goes against the way I would've chosen. Good thing One of us knows what He's doing. The other one has felt beaten up and battle-worn, but I'm being counted as one who can speak His Word with authority.

Here's a clip no one enjoys putting into reality: 

What is joy, really? Is it the warm, fuzzy feeling we'd refer to as "well-being"? I contend that, if we're on the narrow road of God's Way, "joy" doesn't feel like we want it to. In fact, for me right now, it's pretty darn harrowing. I am trusting the God of the universe Who tells me that these tears I sow will reap joy (Psalm 126:5). It's hard to live out being refined when many who call themselves Christians in America won't endure a minute's discomfort to truly grow in Christ.

The irony is that this actually is true "well-being." No wonder the narrow road is sparse. Tears, cotton-brain, and torment from Satan just aren't selling points for getting folks to sign up for this race. I'm willing to throw it out there and be deemed a "Debbie Downer" by those who don't get it. I believe more of us are suffering the trials of obedience than we realize; we just don't talk about it. What are you afraid of? God's finally brought me to a turning point in my life when I'm afraid not to be a bold voice for Him. There's courage on this road, too.

Chew on this quote from Dietrich Bonhoeffer, and dare to follow your own way:

"...within the fellowship of Christ's suffering, suffering is overcome by suffering, and becomes the way to communion with God." (From The Cost of Discipleship).

There's no two ways about it: either I obey, or I don't. My obedience looks like my trusting Him simply because He says so; "Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen" (Hebrews 11:1). A wise friend reminded me a few days ago that others might not realize the cost of our obedience. It is so hard to spend oneself and endure distress for things unseen, when anything else seems "better," and no one has any idea of the cost. I make this statement as one going through it now, still in the trial. 

I have got to keep my eyes focused on Christ, not on myself or my circumstance. He exhibited the ultimate obedience, perfect and unblemished, at a cost that spilled blood to cover the cost of my own suffering. How can I not hear him and do His bidding? Pastor Tim Keller tells a story of a woman in his congregation who, upon realizing the sacrifice that Christ gave for her, said, "If He gave his life for me, there's nothing He can't ask of me." I can't worry about the fact that I might not like it...Father knows best, and He sees past, present, and future. I love the Casting Crowns song that says, "To You the future is a memory." 

"Oh, the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are His judgments and His ways past finding out!" (Note that this was authored by a guy who was in chains, the same one who had sought out Christians to kill them: Romans 11:33, our brother Paul.)

If you've read this blog for any length of time, you know I'm against a fluffy, "Just let go and let God!" attitude. Pull up those rugs that are lumpy from all the issues swept under them! Pollyanna Christianity is not the way Jesus operated. His life was hard; he suffered greatly, being ridiculed for walking the narrow path. Even his own family members didn't get Him. He had no reason to leave the perfection of Heaven but to give us a model of how to share in His sufferings, and to cover all this mess with His healing blood. To "feather His hair" (as Matt Chandler says) with our platitudes and pseudo-reality is to stand in the crowd as one of His mockers. 

The Lord has to be my portion always (Lamentations 3:24). "Through the Lord's mercies we are not consumed" (Lam. 3:22). He has been preparing me for this through other difficulties, and although I don't enjoy it, it's a privilege to let Him lead. We all know Solomon's list in Ecclesiastes, plagiarized by the Byrds in their '60's song, "Turn, Turn, Turn"....there truly is "...a time to weep, and a time to laugh...a time of war, and a time of peace" (3:4, 8). 

I read a Martin Luther quote the other day that blew me away:

"Discipleship is not limited to what you can comprehend--it must transcend all comprehension. Plunge into the deep waters beyond your own comprehension...Bewilderment is the true comprehension. Not to know where you are going is true knowledge...Not the work which you choose, not the suffering you devise, but the road which is clean contrary to all that your choose or contrive or desire--that is the road you must take."

I surround myself with godly people. They hear my confessions and heart without judgment, not straying from the Word and reminding me of God's hard truth. I ask God to let me walk in light, not darkness, that I would know in my heart who He says I am, not who the devil wants me to think I am. I seek the testimonies of other sufferers, like the Apostle Paul, Bonhoeffer, Spurgeon, and Luther. I ask the Holy Spirit to help me hear Him, to allow me to focus on this moment and not the future. If I'm brain-dead at night, I allow "The Andy Griffith Show" to minister to me. Sometimes even I have to put my books on hold. 

I humbly ask for your prayers. God is always working, but seldom do I know what He's doing. It's not my job to figure it out, because He is unsearchable, and "His ways past finding out," remember? It's not my job to make things happen, or manipulate my own thinking. He is lovingly and painfully giving me crowns to lay at His feet. 

Instead of pulling myself up and making every effort to fake "good courage," I'm learning to say, "Lord, help me wait on You. Enable me to be of good courage. Please strengthen my heart." I like this way better; it hurts in the short term, but isn't as painful in the long run as disobedience from my own attempts. Notice the marks of my tears on this page as I created it. 

Because there is joy during trials, here are some photos I've enjoyed this week:

Here is my Dad circa 1970. When his number came up, he was obedient to the call to Vietnam. He spent over a year of his life there, and wouldn't be who he is today had he not been through that difficult time. Here he is with a pup that died shortly after this photo was taken. Dad says it was discovered that the dog had rabies, so all the guys who had handled him had to go through a series of shots. My Dad is my favorite vet, and I thanked him and many others on Nov. 11 for their sacrifices. Obedience comes in various forms. 

We worked on parts of school outside this week, and Nibbles accompanied us. She delights in eating grass from the yard, although most of it is brown these days. Pray for rain for western North Carolina, as I'm sure you've heard about the wildfires here. As distracting as it can be to have our piggy along for schoolwork, we have to look for and receive joy where God gives it, and she fits the bill for sure. If you desire a pet but don't want a lot of work, a guinea pig is perfect. 

We went to Dad's alma mater yesterday to enjoy a football game. This man is Uncle Tim Remaley, my godfather and special friend. He and Dad were teammates at Wofford and have known each other over fifty years. I'm grateful to have had Uncle Tim's love and company since the day I was born. I don't see him often enough anymore, but am happy to catch him at a game. Thank You, Lord, for him and his family, who have always been like my own. 

Until next time! Thanks for reading. Pass this on to others who need a friend in Christ. 

Joyful Things

I came across this verse this morning, and the reminder feels so good. In all the muck and mire that is sanctification, in all the wound-healing, joy is for those who follow Christ. Joy in Him doesn't come cheap; it's not the world's fleeting happiness, which never satisfies. It may take a while to see it, but even trials ultimately bear the fruit of joy, making it about Christ's work, not anything we have achieved. I'm seeing that after many long, hard struggles, I am slowly able to give myself permission to let Him lift me out of bondage and rest in the joy that He brings.

Papi had a quiet, simple joy. He lived a Christlike life daily before me, not doing anything fancy or drawing attention to himself, but finding deep satisfaction in the quietness of his life:

Papi (Antonio "Blanco" Jimenez) not long after he left the bondage of Cuba and settled in Spartanburg, SC.
He loved his plants and flowers, and was grateful for rainwater, which was best for watering them.

Papi in pre-Castro Cuba, lovingly caring for his chickens. 

When the past isn't always pleasant, God can take the sweet memories and use them to bring us comfort, and see Him in those places. I was unaware as a child of how God was showing me Christ through Papi, the realness of a meek, humble, yet deep and fulfilling life. I can take my memories of him now and treasure them, thanking God for Papi's example, and asking Him to help me live this out, too: "For he will not dwell unduly on the days of his life, because God keeps him busy with the joy of his heart." (Ecclesiastes 5:20).

We have a beautiful hydrangea that hasn't bloomed since we moved to our house two years ago. I never had to do a thing to the one at our former residence; it could be counted on to produce beautiful blooms each year. This time, I decided I had nothing to lose, so I trimmed it back some. Sure enough:

What joy! God makes beautiful things even on this side of Heaven. I can't fathom what eternity will be like! I love these blooms, and I know Papi would have, too.

Are you familiar with Shopkins? They are the rage with my young girls, little figures shaped like groceries, clothing, furniture, with cute faces. They love to collect these, and lately when they have a little money, it's off to the store we go to get more:

I snapped this photo the other day when they combined all their Shopkins in a pile, and went one by one taking turns choosing them. What fun for little girls! I would've loved these as a child, and told my girls I can imagine being with my best elementary school-age pal, Jennie Todd, collecting and trading little figures like this. I delight in their joy over these, and love the memories they will have.

Here is another picture I took, just yesterday, on the way back to the mountains from Spartanburg:

Street names are fun, and this one has always intrigued me. Where do you suppose the name Old Furnace came from? I've tried to discover its history, but am unable to uncover anything. If any Spartanburg researchers want to take a stab at it, be my guest.

Finally, one of my biggest delights is in books, as you know. The Lord has used reading to provide me with deep joy and healing. I love to read my own books, but there's nothing like curling up with my girls on either side of me, having them beg me, "Keep reading!!!" Here are two we have enjoyed recently:

The first, Trina, we are still reading. What a sweet find for 30 cents at a local used bookstore! It follows the story of a Mexican family living in a boxcar in a tiny Wyoming town, along with other families whose heads work on the railroad. Trina struggles to learn English, and is desperate for the friendship of the town's English-speaking children. She learns to overcome her fear of messing up, and plunges into the scary yet rewarding task of learning to communicate in a foreign language. 

We just finished Mrs. Piggle Wiggle after many laughs. As I like to get into character by imitating the voices of the people, I was quite challenged by the hilarious ones in this story. Mrs. Piggle Wiggle is an eccentric older lady whose talent it is to cure the town children of various bad habits: having messy rooms, not going to bed on time, not taking a bath, fighting with siblings, being picky eaters, etc. The girls and I were sorry to have this book end, but we're glad there are several sequels.

Joy is all around. I'm learning that heart-healing and coming out of bondage mean giving myself permission to see it and live in it. "For freedom Christ has made us free; stand fast therefore in the liberty by which Christ has made us free, and do not be entangled again with a yoke of bondage" (Galatians 5:1). Keep praying, keep fighting the good fight of the faith, keep asking God to heal, keep walking into painful places in order to let them go for good. He is faithful, and we can trust Him to bring order and joy.

Until next time...

The Refreshment of a Friend

The past few days for me have been dark and difficult. I have felt suffocated by the past, and far from God. The migraine contributed to my inability to think clearly, but no doubt a few packed days during Christmas contributed to my being overwhelmed.

It is harder for me than most people to decompress, especially through this time in my life of healing, bringing darkness into light, and being renewed. There is so much on my mind being brought to the surface in an effort to purge. The enemy always finds ways to attempt to thwart any milestones. 

As restful and still as Advent has been, this past week has clouded my ability to hear from the Holy Spirit. As much as I know I am being grown, I creep back to the lie that nothing has changed at all. This is a dark place where I cling to the truth that I cannot "...lose heart. Even though our outward man is perishing, yet the inward man is being renewed day by day" (2 Corinthians 4:16).

About an hour ago, in the depth of my doldrums, my friend Tricia called. We have seen countless times of joy and tears together, but recently distance and our schedules keep us from seeing each other. Months, even half a year, might go by before we see each others' faces. Still, she is there, faithful to the end. 

God knew I needed to hear her voice over the phone and dig down deep. She has faced her own sanctification and is able to relate and share similarities and differences. Tricia engaged me today with no questioning, no telling me to see someone else's point of view, but simply listening and encouraging. She could tell that the Lord gives me enough direction, which freed her up to just be there.

Thank You, Lord, for an old friend when I needed her. I am refreshed and more settled from having spoken to one who can take my mess and not try to be the fixer. In his wisdom, Solomon stated that "Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their labor. For if they fall, one will lift up his companion" (Ecclesiastes 4:9-10). There is no substitute for the sovereign wisdom and direction of Christ, but it also feels good to have advocates with skin on.

Papi's Wisdom, God's Gift

"As for every man to whom God has given riches and wealth, and given him the power to eat of it, to receive his heritage and rejoice in his labor--this is the gift of God.  For he will not dwell unduly on the days of his life because God keeps him occupied with the joy of his heart." Ecclesiastes 5:19-20

There is no telling how much time I have spent meditating on these verses penned by wise Solomon.  The type of mind-labor I can enjoy involves rolling over and over such ideas.  I used to sit up at night about ten years ago, plagued by job difficulties, and ponder Solomon's revelations.  O, to "rejoice" in my labor, I clamored.  To not be crippled by the minutia of life, but rather to have the joy described throughout this book!  Does anyone really ever live that way, I wondered?

Not many years ago, it dawned on me that not only are there individuals who experience this daily "gladness of heart" (Ecc. 5:20, NIV), but I witnessed it firsthand for years!  My grandfather, Antonio Jimenez, ("Blanco" to most, "Papi" to me), lived the description of these verses unlike anyone else I've known.  Papi's riches were simplicity, joy in work...gifts of God.  He did not dwell "unduly" on the days of his life, because God kept him "occupied with the joy of his heart."

Some of us are given the treasure of being around a person like Papi.  We do not always consider the divine gift of it in the everyday moments, and often take the days for granted.  A person of such meekness probably moves through life unaware of the impact he has, but little eyes are watching.  Did Papi realize the effect of his daily life on mine?  Did I know then that I was absorbing him in the little things?

Papi as he looked when I was a girl.  Campi the cat was his buddy.

Papi could have wallowed in the fact that by age seven, he was left an orphan.  He could have been depressed about leaving his beloved Cuba, planting new roots in a strange place where few knew his language.  He could have dwelled unduly on the days of his life, wondering why circumstances were so hard, and he could have become frustrated communicating in English.  He could have barked at me that I had it easy, and knew nothing of hardships such as he had endured.  He didn't.  Papi was occupied with a joy of heart and richness of labor that overcame the adversities he had endured.  They were gifts of God.

What he did was leave a legacy, not of grand accomplishments and titles by his name, but of peace, joy, and mind rest.  He exhibited simplicity as a way of life, fulfillment in what the world calls mundane, but what I am discovering is rich and deep.  Solomon, the wisest man on earth, said, "Here is what I have seen: It is good and fitting for one to eat and drink, and to enjoy the good of all his labor in which he toils under the sun all the days of his life which God gives him; for it is his heritage" (Ecclesiastes 5:18).  My grandfather's wisdom ranked with that of Solomon.

Papi cured any cut with Mercurochrome, that bright orange liquid in a small brown glass bottle; it was applied with a stick on the bottle cap, and burned on contact.  He whistled like a bird and sang old Cuban music like Desi Arnaz.  He traveled among grocery stores, finding a bargain here, and another one there, supplying my childhood with Nestle Crunch bars, Sprite, and striped fudge round cookies.  Kids back then were fed sweets as snacks and lived to tell about it.

We would ride around Spartanburg, where we lived, in his Chevy Cavalier (a later car than the one pictured below).  The radio dial was always tuned to AM 950, WSPA, no longer in existence.  We listened to a mixture of Perry Como, Chuck Berry, and even Michael McDonald, and then Bill Drake would announce the news and local happenings.  

None of this involved out-of-the-ordinary feats to entertain or amaze me; the everyday delight of ordinariness was enough, and was what I now realize I needed and craved.  Did I know I was absorbing how Papi loved his friends, the community he had with others who had migrated to this small town in search of freedom and life?  Did I see the love that went into the laundry he carried to the laundromat across the street, the wet socks and undershirts spread on the line outside?  Did I have any idea of what God was doing, how He was causing me to observe the little things, so that someday they would become big things?

There was an African-American man who would walk down Reidville Road, close to Papi's house.  The first time I noticed him was one day when we drove past, and Papi honked the horn at him.  The man looked up and acknowledged with a small wave.  "Who was that?" I inquired in Spanish, to which Papi replied, "Mi amigo!"  After that, if we ever rode down that section of street around the same time of day, it never failed: there the man would be, the horn would honk, and the "amigo" would smile and wave.  What a tiny episode to have created such an impactful memory for a little girl.  That's who Papi was: everyone, regardless of color or language, was his "amigo."

Little girl me with Papi, around 1979.
The mound of dark fur in the bottom left corner is pet dog and pal, Cookie. 

Soon after Papi died in 2002, I entered a grocery store and was so overcome with emotion, I left in tears.  The burst of grief was from nothing special, yet everything special.  It was the plainness of the store, and the nostalgic music playing there, the lady handing out free samples that Papi loved; those little things reminded me of a regular man who was so great.  How would I ever shop for food again, I wondered in that searing moment.  How could the world go on without such a superlative soul?  And God saw fit to use my sorrow to introduce me to His Son, my Savior.  That was the beginning of my salvation experience and what I've come to know as the sanctification of the ones He loves.

How I managed to go back into the store came from the Holy Spirit showing me that He planted the gift of Papi's simplicity in me, too.  For thirteen years, it has been sprouting, growing, being painfully pruned, and even having to be sawed off here and there.  Not a trip to Aldi or Dollar General is spent without rejoicing in the fact that I, too, love a bargain, and Papi's legacy lives on in the delight I experience remembering him as I travel the aisles.  It lives on in that, and oh-so-many other daily occurrences.

In no way can I condense the details of this man into one post, nor would I want to make an attempt.  I will be gratified in unraveling much about him in posts to come, as well as more about this audacious journey of healing, love, grace, growth, and sanctification, all enfolded in the simple rest of Christ's loving arms.