When He speaks through a child: reflections on tragedy, courage and dependence on God

This has been a difficult week. It has also been a full week in which many us were called on to care for and comfort others, plan for services and times of prayer, and to offer other areas of support in light of so much pain and grief. While I find myself talking to God a lot in these types of situations, I can easily forget to listen to what He says back to me.  But God, who knows me inside and out, knows that I rarely fail to listen to a child.  I find in the moments when I can get too wrapped up in what I'm doing FOR God, when I forget to listen TO God, He inevitably speaks through the children in my life.  He does know how to get my attention :)

On Tuesday I attended the memorial service of a much beloved faculty member at Seattle Pacific University who died of a sudden illness. 48 hours later, a gunman killed one student and injured two others on that same campus.  The SPU community and all those that love that community are heartbroken.

On Sunday, our services were dedicated to lamenting, praying and worshiping with and for the SPU community. Quest, our church, is just a mile from SPU.  We have many students, faculty, staff, alums and others who have a relationship with that campus that attend our church, including members of our staff and lay leadership.  It was a time of grieving, acknowledging our pain, crying out to God and proclaiming our hope in Him.  Our youth group kids usually go to their own class during our 11am service. However, their leaders felt they should stay in the service, both for their own grieving and healing (many of them have their own connections to SPU), and for them to see how we, as the Body of Christ, are called to mourn with and comfort those who are grieving.  Both our boys are very empathetic and tend to be sensitive to the emotions of those around them. While this is a beautiful gift, it can also be overwhelming is this setting, especially for children and teens. We told our boys that if it became too intense for them, they could go downstairs to help with our Toddlers and Preschoolers (they are both youth volunteers with these ages).  About halfway through the service, it was too much for our 12 year old and he headed downstairs to hang out with "his kids" (he is his mother's child :) ).  On the way he handed me a note he had written during the service and asked me to "give it to SPU" (I have sent it on with an SPU professor). He also gave me permission to read and share it.

In case you can't read his writing, this is what it say:
"Dear SPU,
During this time of sadness, fear, anger, and darkness, do not let them overcome you. During these times of grief we ask, "Why God?", but don't give up hope! God is with you even when it doesn't feel like He is. Many are praying for you. Be strong and courages (sic) for the Lord God is with you. That's from the Bible somewere(sic). Remember we are praying for you.

From 6th Grader
A Christensen"

Needless to say, I teared up. However, even more so, I was struck by God's powerful reminder that I and many others needed.  The verse that my son mentions is Joshua 1:9
"Have I not told you?
Be strong and courageous.
Do not be terrified;
do not be discouraged,
for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go"

At the end of the service, we asked those who needed prayer to come to the front where pastors, staff and lay leaders would pray with them.  As I prayed with people, I found myself praying this passage over and over for us.  If ever we needed strength and courage, it is now. If we ever needed to fight back against terror and discouragement, it is now.  I often think of this passage in reverse:
Because the Lord our God is with us wherever we go,
We do not need to give in to discouragement and terror
But rather He makes us strong and courageous.

Amen.

Yet another reminder came via FB. This morning, I woke up to this post on my wall from the father of one of 5 year olds:

"While laying in A's bed tonight as I tried to help her fall asleep, she starts to talk about the 'man who hurt the people' at SPU. This leads to a conversation about her thoughts and fears, and I catch myself (with the best intentions) telling her that she has nothing to fear since mommy and daddy will protect her. I pause, realizing how empty this statement truly is, and shift the conversation to the following:

Me: You know who will always protect you, will always watch out for you, and will never fail you?
A: Who?
Me: I'll give you a hint: we talk about this person all the time at church!
A: Oh... God!

At this point, I'm feeling pretty positive and successful in giving reassurance AND truth to my 5 year old. Then, she stumps me...

A: So, do you know who looks out for God?
Me: Uhhh, well... God looks out for himself...
A: Nope, but I'll give you a hint: we talk about this person all the time in church!
Me: Ummm, Jesus?
A: NO silly, Teacher PAM!!!!

No pressure, but apparently you're now responsible for God's safety and security ;) "

I laughed so hard that tears came to my eyes.  It gave a number of our mutual friends a chuckle, too.  And the Lord knew we all needed it! 
We laugh because of the sweetness of a child's trust and the innocence of their understanding.  We smile and think, "Out of the mouths of babes." We laugh because as adults we know that, of course, reality is the total opposite.

But it only took me a few minutes before it became clear that once again, God was reminding me of His truth through the words of a child.  He was not telling me that I was his bodyguard.  No, He reminded me that it's quite the opposite, even when I may convince myself that it's not.   Now I'm fairly certain that I've never said to myself that I need to watch out for God's safety :) But how many times either directly or indirectly have I said to Him, "I can do it myself",  "I'll let you know if I need you", "Here what I need and here's how You should do it", or even "Get out of the way and let me do it my way!"  But isn't that basically the same thing as saying I'm in charge of God?  It really is silly and childish, but is far from the childlike faith we are called to.

As I rest on this my Sabbath day, it's easy to convince myself that I'm fine, I've got this, I know how to grieve this tragedy that has happened to a community that I love. Maybe I'm not saying that specifically, but it's the route our hearts often want to take: I'm independent, I'm capable, I'm steady, when the reality is that we are anything but.  I'm not fine, I don't have this and I don't know how to grieve this violation: of a building where I spent 75% of my time as a student, of faculty and staff that were my colleagues in my first staff position at SPU in that same building, of friends who I used to work with all over campus and those who are alums, to this student body, many of whom I have had the privilege of working with and walking alongside as volunteers at Quest. I do need God's courage. I need His strong arms. I need His sheltering wings.

As a church we are reading through the Psalms together, one each day all summer. Today's is Psalm 22. This is my prayer for today as we all grieve, cling to the hope that is ours and begin the long road to healing:

"But you, O Lord, be not far off;
O my Strength, come quickly to help me." vs. 19

Amen and Amen.

 

Why do I blog?

A friend was recently asked this on her grad school application. It made me ask myself: Why do I blog? I've been writing for 20 years and only shared a handful of those pieces with a handful of people. What on earth possessed me to want to suddenly share my thoughts with the world (or at least the dozen or so that would actually read it given the oceans of blogs out there)?

These types of subjective questions usually take me awhile to articulate.  I am an intuitive feeling kind of person.  I can tell you that I loved a book, but if you ask me for the themes in said book, it's going to take me awhile (or I'll just say, "I don't know. It was a good book!" and wonder why your questioning me like my high school English teacher). Abstract just is not my thing. 

I expected my answer to the question of blogging to be along the same lines: "I don't know. I just do." Yet, surprisingly, that was not the answer that popped into my head. I didn't even really have to think about. It was just there.

I blog because I know what it's like to believe you are alone.

In January of 2009, my stepmom, or Mum as I called her, was diagnosed with stage 4 pancreatic cancer.  She did well on chemo for quite awhile, but in June of 2010 the treatments stopped working.  My parent was dying.

She was 65 years old. So young. I was 36 years old. I didn't know anyone else who had lost a parent at that age; who had needed to support their own children in their grief over losing a beloved grandmother, while caring for their dying parent and their surviving parent. I had bought into the lie that no one understood. That I was alone.

Of course, I knew God was with me. Prayer and verses like these helped me to survive most days:

"God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble." Psalm 46:1

"Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Psalm 11:28

But I also needed to know that another human being understood where I was, who had didn't have to explain it to, who had walked through it and could tell me, from experience, that it gets easier, if not better, eventually. 

And into that place, God sent two precious sisters. Two dear friends who had been there, survived it and understood where I was.

As I look back over my life, I can see so many places where God has given me this support, this community. And I can see places when I have been able to be there for someone else who believed in their darkest, most painful place that they, too, were alone.  

And through it all, this much is clear: God created us to live in community. And sometimes that community is virtual :)

"Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their work: If one falls down, his friend can help him up. But pity the man who falls and has no one to help him up! Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm. But how can one keep warm alone?  Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken."    
Ecc. 4: 9-12

So this is why I blog:
I don't have all the answers or all the experiences. But I can say to the mom of a child with special needs, to a child of parents with disabilities, to an adult struggling with the loss of their parent, to a reserve military spouse who feels isolated in their civilian world, to a woman who is trying to hold everything together in spite of her own hidden disabilities: "I understand and you are not alone."

And sometimes, that's all we need.

First week of Advent: Holy Fear

As I read the stories of Zechariah, Mary and the shepherds' encounters with angels, I cannot help but notice that they were all frightened by the arrival of God's messengers. Throughout the Old Testament, we see the call to have the "fear of the Lord". We find it in Psalms, Proverbs and many of the prophets as they call for repentance.

But this is the New Testament, the time for the New Covenant.  Surely fear has no place here.  And yet, here it is. God sends his messenger with words of hope and joy, but the first response of those hearing it is to be afraid.  Why is this so?

Is it because, in that moment, when we look upon one who has seen God's face and has stood in His Presence, that we can no longer fool ourselves into believing that we are righteous, good...holy? Is it because the charade of thinking we are invincible, gifted, capable, strong and wise turns to dust in the light of the Infinite? Is it the recognition that we cannot hide who we truly are; our sinful hearts and weaknesses laid bare? Is it the knowledge that He who made us can also unmake us?  Is it the recognition of our true reality: that He is God and we are not? With all of that façade stripped away, who would not feel fear?

But where is my fear and trembling? Do I truly believe that over the last 2,000 years Christians have evolved past that fear? 1 John 4:18 tells us that perfect love drives out fear. Does this mean we just skip the fear and go right to the warm and fuzzy? It seems easier that way.  I don't want to think about fearing God. We fear car accidents, criminals and earthquakes. We fear illness, unemployment and being alone. Our finite fears are terrifying and we do not want to associate that terror with God, Love made flesh. So we jump to "Do not be afraid Zechariah, Mary, shepherds. There is good news!" We simply skip this gut reaction, this heart pounding, legs trembling, take our breath away fear that just the presence of God's messenger inspires.

But there is a difference between our human fears that John speaks of in his letter and the fear of the Lord. And the fear of the Lord still belongs. He is God: Almighty, Lord of All, King of Kings and Lord of Lords, the Lord Mighty in Battle, Creator of all things...The Great I AM. We, who are the created, made from dust and who will return to the dust, should fear and tremble because we know what we deserve. We are not wrong to have the fear of the Lord. It is holy fear. When we truly look at our own hearts, our response should be like Isaiah's:
     "Woe to me, for I am a man of unclean lips and live among a people of unclean lips..." (Isaiah 6:5)

The good news is that God does not leave us in our fear. The messenger says, "Do not be afraid." This is not another human being, not even an heroic one like a police officer or fire fighter, saying these words.  Gabriel, the messenger of the Lord, says to Zechariah: "I stand in the presence of God and I have been sent to tell you this good news." (Lk. 1:19) Gabriel speaks for God and God says, "Do not be afraid." We are not getting what we deserve. In fact, we are receiving just the opposite: a savior, perfect Love made flesh, who will dwell among us and save us.

                "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will be for all the people. Today, in the city
                 of David, a savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord." (Lk. 2:10-11)

Perfect love drives out all fear.

Father God, please help me to leave aside my pride and arrogance in order to recognize holy fear. But help me also, to live into your words of hope and love and spread them far and wide: "Do not be afraid. I am here." Amen.

Broken, but not that way

I am broken…

I have disabilities. I have two chronic illnesses and a learning disability (yes, adults can and do have learning disabilities and yes, they still affect us, even when we are not in school, but that is another blog posting for another day). Between them, my diagnoses affect how I sleep, how and what I eat, my relationships, my finances, my breathing, my work, even my driving.

I am broken…but maybe not the way you think.

Throughout human history, the myth of an “ideal” version of humanity has been repeated until it is believed. Over the years, this has come in different forms: the myth of being male as “ideal”, the myth of being white as “ideal”, the myth of one culture being more “ideal” than another. In all of these myths, there is a basic theme: if you are not a part of the “ideal”, you are “less than”.
Then there is the myth of ability: a whole, sound mind and body, as defined by science and culture, is the “ideal”. Anything else is “less than”. That’s made clear even in the language we use: disability, literally “not able”. A victim. A problem. Broken.

Over the years, we as Christians have allowed the myth of ability to co-op and warp our perceptions of those who are not typically-abled. Even the early Church Fathers, who took the radical approach of establishing hospitals that were for the care and cure of those with disabilities (unheard of in their cultures during the 3rd and 4th centuries), struggled with this. They welcomed and cared for all, but their patients were not allowed to become leaders, pastors, bishops (Disability and the Christian Tradition, Swinton and Brock, 2012). They were brothers and sisters to be cared for and assisted, but not individuals, gifted and called by God for his purposes.

Several months ago, I had a conversation with someone around this subject. In articulating my belief that the church needs to seek inclusion of and reconciliation with those with disabilities or who are not “typically abled”, I compared it to the need for reconciliation and inclusion of those marginalized due to race and/ or gender. This person responded that by comparing disability to gender and race, the implication was that gender and race were deficits, which they are not. I responded, “I agree. Neither is disability a deficit.”

I am broken…but not because of my disability.
We all are broken…and equal in our brokenness. I am a sinner, saved by grace, justified by love, overwhelmed by mercy from the Cross that I did not deserve. Sinner, but saved. Depraved, but redeemed. Broken…but healed.

I am broken…and called.

Scripture declares it!

Ephesians 2:10

"For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do."

 

Not only that, but scripture says those that may be seen by others as “weak”, “less honorable” or “unpresentable”, are equally called and gifted, essential to the function of the Body, Christ’s church.

1 Corinthians 12:14-27

"Now the body is not made up of one part but of many. If the foot should say, “Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body,” it would not for that reason cease to be part of the body. And if the ear should say, “Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body,” it would not for that reason cease to be part of the body. If the whole body were an eye, where would the sense of hearing be? If the whole body were an ear, where would the sense of smell be? But in fact God has arranged the parts in the body, every one of them, just as he wanted them to be. If they were all one part, where would the body be? As it is, there are many parts, but one body. The eye cannot say to the hand, “I don’t need you!” And the head cannot say to the feet, “I don’t need you!” On the contrary, those parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, and the parts that we think are less honorable we treat with special honor. And the parts that are unpresentable are treated with special modesty, while our presentable parts need no special treatment. But God has combined the members of the body and has given greater honor to the parts that lacked it, so that there should be no division in the body, but that its parts should have equal concern for each other. If one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honored, every part rejoices with it. Now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it."

 

What would happen to a part of our own bodies if we fail to use it? If we coddle it because we see it as weak, injured or fragile? If we ignore it because we are sure we don’t need it? If we think that working it, exercising it, using it, would take too much time and effort? If we pretend we don’t see it, hoping it will go away?

What would happen? We all know the answer. That part would weaken, atrophy and the tissue may even die. The only way to strengthen a weak part of our bodies is to utilize it.

The truth is that when the Body of Christ ignores, pities, and fails to utilize the gifts of those brothers and sisters with disabilities, we choose to atrophy. We, the Body, cease to function as God designed us to.

When we approach those who have disabilities from the standpoint of “how can I help?” instead of “how can I come alongside and work with you?” we miss out on the ways God works through each of us. Not only do we deprive our brothers and sisters of opportunities to do that which they are called to, but we miss out on the opportunity to see the work of God in a new light. That’s not to say that everyone doesn’t need help up from time to time. I do. You do. We do. That is the nature of true community. But what if the person who is giving you a hand up has depression, is in a wheelchair, can’t speak, has schizophrenia, cancer, ADHD, diabetes or epilepsy? What if the person giving you a hand up, doesn’t have hands?

I am broken…but not in that way.

The seasons of grief and Psalm 73

Recently, during the opening devotions of our church staff meting, one of our pastors read Psalm 73: 21-28, then asked us to rewrite it in our own words.  Not a translation, not an official paraphrase, but rather how this Psalm spoke to us.  A few staff chose to share their versions with us. As they read what they had written, each shared a different way that this passage had connected with them. What a beautiful reminder that the Word is alive!
 
For me, this passage spoke of my journey through the seasons of grief that I have been in and am still moving through: the anger, the pain, the comfort, the hope. Three years ago this month, my dad lost his wife of 30 years, the boys lost an amazing grandma and I lost my Mum, my step-mom, my third parent and one of my closest friends.  Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately), grief is not a 5 point to-do list that we can check off and be done.  It must be named, looked at, handled, wrestled with, walked with, sometimes even danced with. And it must be surrendered to the One who brings healing and peace. To the One who never leaves us even in the darkest nights and deepest valleys. To the One who is our hope.
 
This is how the Word spoke to me through Psalm 73:21-28.

Lord, my sorrow is evident and my grief is just below the surface.

I lash out in my pain and anger at those around me

And turn my back to You

But You remain faithful

You do not let me go

You speak your words of comfort and correction

My home will always be with You

Lord, what do I have but You?

Nothing I have is forever

Except You and your great love

My body will break down and I will pass from this earth

But I will always be with You

And You with me

Lord there are those who seek and embrace evil.

They are not of You, even though You call to them

But Lord You are my sanctuary, all I need

I will praise you with my life.

May the Word work in our hearts and minds today and everyday.
Amen

Healing and hope for familes of divorce

I am a "child of divorce".  My parents divorced when I was approximately 1 1/2 years old. Their marriage lasted about 3 years. I don't remember them married and, to be honest with you, I can't picture them married. They married young and out of loneliness.  I suppose the shortness of their marriage is not truly surprising.  Two half people can never make a whole.

This is where the grace of God comes in, as it has so many times in so many lives.  Scripture says:
"And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose." Rom. 8:28
This is probably one of the most incorrectly quoted passages in the Bible.  Note that Paul does not say that all things are good, rather that God can and does work through all things in our lives to bring about good.

My parents divorce was not good.  There was emotional pain for my parents, as well as my sister and I, upheaval and financial burdens as one home became two, strife between friends and family.  I am thankful to God that over 33 years later much healing and forgiveness has occurred and that my parents chose to unite as parents behind my sister and I in our upbringing.  They are wonderful grandparents whose grandchildren have never heard an angry word uttered between them. God grace has brought the good of healing and forgiveness.

The other good He brought was in the form of my step-mother. Both history and fiction have brought us some fairly ugly representation of step-parents, step-mothers in particular.  They show them to be jealous, callous,unfeeling  and even abusive toward their step-children. While I do not doubt that there are step-parent/step-child relationships like this, I personally know of many step-children and step-parents who have loving relationships, including my own husband and his step-father.

I recently lost my beloved step-mother of 29 years, whom I called "Mum".  I shared at
her service and later shared my remarks with a friend, who told me how encouraging they were for families of divorce and remarriage.

Below is a portion of what I said that day.  I shared it with my own mother, who told me I had "hit the nail on the head".

"Mum was known for her generosity, but I wonder if most people know how much she gave when and where it was least expected.  When I was 10 years old, my mother, Bonnie, my sister and I moved back to Helena from Seattle.  Starting that Christmas and every Christmas, until I left for college and my mother moved to the East Coast, Mum and Dad had us all over for Christmas Day.  Mum and Mom always exchanged gifts.  Mum even included gifts for the foster children that my Mom took in. Mom and Mum always got along. They were respectful and kind to each other despite the awkward circumstances.  It wasn’t until I was older that I realized what a tremendous and generous gift that this was, that most children of divorce have never experienced. Her greatest act of generosity was in accepting my sister and me as her own children without ever seeking to take anything from my mother.

She had a unique role in my life.  She was my third parent, one of my best friends, a wonderful mother-in-law to my husband, and a deeply involved and loving Grandmother. She was my Mum and she will be deeply missed."

I share this not to glorify divorce.  Divorce happens for many reasons and it hurts. Do I believe that with God a couple can experience hope and healing in their marriage? Absolutely! But, if divorce and remarriage do come, God can bring hope and healing as well.

"I like that I have ADHD": Speaking into the narrative of our childrens' lives

Ever have one of those amazing conversations with your kids?  The ones you have when you least expect it, doing the most ordinary things?  The ones that remind you that you, in many ways, have as much to learn from your child as they do from you?  A few years ago, I had just such a conversation with my then eight year old.  And, as they so often do, this conversation happened in our mini-van, just driving down the street (it's a very strange thing, but we almost always have the BIG talks in our van: salvation, sex, baptism,  and even anarchy-but I'll share that one another time).  From the seat behind me came these words:       
                                     "I like that I have ADHD."

He then proceeded to list all the things he liked about himself that could be attributed to having ADHD:
  -I have a lot of energy.
  -I am creative.
  -I'm a good problem solver.
  -I notice things that not very many other people do.
I agreed that these things were in true.  Then I asked him how he knew these things about himself.  His response? "You told me." I did?

While I could (and may) write a posting about how "able" kids (and adults) with ADHD are, that's not what I learned through this conversation with our son. What I was reminded of was this: the influence we have over our child's narrative.

When our boys each received their respective diagnoses, it was important to my husband and I that we help them understand first of all that there is nothing "wrong" with them, but rather that they have some challenges that we as a family, along with their teachers, doctors and counselors, we're going to help them learn to live and succeed with. The reality is that most children who have ADHD will not "outgrow it", as was previously believed (hence the recent upsurge in adult diagnoses as medical and mental health professionals are beginning to recognize that this is not just a children's issue), so they need to be aware that these challenges will affect them long term. However, we also wanted them to know that ADHD has also contributed to many of their strengths and so, in that way, is a gift. As with so many of the hurdles in life, this comes with challenges and blessings.  Our prayer is that God truly helps them "hear" these things.

Our child's "story" (or our own, for that matter) does not start when they 30 or 25 or 18.  In Psalm 139, we are told that God knows everyone's story, intimately, even before we are created:
                              
              "All the days ordained for me
               were written in your book
               before they even came to be." (vs. 16, NIV)

Our children's narrative is a life long sculpting by them and God, and yet we, as parents are called to play a critical role as collaborators in that story.  He chose to put this child in our lives. As we are awed and overjoyed, exhausted and impatient, humbled and overwhelmed, God comes along side and reminds us in little and big ways, that we are helping to shape our child's story. 

I can so easily get bogged down in the ways I may have spoken impatience and frustration, monotony and mediocrity, criticism and complaint into my child's life.  It is important to recognize these things, address them and seek forgiveness for them. It is equally important to recognize those times, when God reminds us of the good, that by his grace working through us, despite our sinful nature, we have breathed into our child's story.  Most of all, we need to remember how our influence helps shape our child's story.  My prayer is that it will keep them coming back to God's story.