"There's always three fingers pointing back to me" Heart Therapy #10

    

      I ran into the bathroom and grabbed Elena right before she was about to fall. Her big brother was pulling the chair out from under her, and she was trying to catch her balance. The kids place little chairs in front of the bathroom sink so they can brush their teeth, and 4 year-old Emilio always carries them back into the kitchen when done. They are too heavy for 1 year-old Elena. The routine has become well-established now, and both children can follow all the steps on their own. So, last night, in my confidence in their independence, I went down the hall to get their bedtime vitamins while they brushed. 

     In my head, I pictured Elena smashing her face on the sink. Or, crashing into the tub. She was already screaming at him and distraught about the chair moving. Emilio was simply trying to do his job, and didn't consider the effect of gravity. Unfortunately, he had been irritating his little sister all day. As the chair knocked over unto the bathroom floor, and I caught Elena, there was little room for objective investigation. I immediately ordered Emilio to go sit in "time out"while I fought against angry reactions.

     This is a perfect example of why I love Jesus, and how my heart is being healed. 

     Coming almost as suddenly as my anger, God whispered stillness to my swirling emotions. My thoughts were redirected to something my Grandma Alice always use to say,

"When you point your finger at someone, blaming them, look at your hand. There are three times as many fingers pointing at you!"

I can't blame a 4 year-old for immaturity. I can't blame him for disregard to safety protocols! But, I can certainly point some fingers to me leaving a toddler unsupervised. If I had been closer to the scene, still giving them independence,  I could have prevented this. My anger really came down to not getting what I wanted out of the situation. I wanted to multi-task. I wanted to speed up bedtime. I wanted peace and quiet.

     The searchlight of Holy Spirit showed me more. Remember the anger I felt because of so and so? Remember the anger and frustration because of this and this? Remember the dissatisfaction because of...? Remember the finger pointing?

"What is causing the quarrels and fights among you? Don’t they come from the evil desires at war within you? You want what you don’t have, so you scheme and kill to get it. You are jealous of what others have, but you can’t get it, so you fight and wage war to take it away from them." (James 4:1-2)

Healing doesn't necessarily feel comforting. Often there is a great deal of pain associated. I love Jesus because He loves me in truth, and truth usually stings. This is the refining fire that forges the strongest steel, and the transformative pressure that causes diamonds.

Why do I feel so lazy? Heart Therapy #9

   

 Just about at the part when Princess Leia took off her disguise, and was about to thaw out Han Solo, I woke up. Han Solo was somehow alive in a carbonite kind of mold. How does that work? How long was he propped up as a trophy for Jabba the Hutt? Could he hear the funky music being played by the craziest of alien creatures?

     Those are the kinds of questions that come out of unexpected naps. I didn't mean to sleep, especially since my two kids were capable of destroying the house. But, thankfully, they were both beside me still, eyes sucked into the events on planet Tatooine. They were so content, just lying there on the futon snuggling with us. All their needs were being met: we had fed them, clothed them, kept them safe, and were spending quality time with them.

     But, I felt like I was lazy, unproductive, and irresponsible. While I should have been delighted to have that semblance of peace and quiet, instead my mind spun with things that I supposedly should be doing. Lists began to run up and down and all around inside me. Curled into me was Elena, with not a care in her one-year old world. My world of "to do's" were attempting to smother hers.

     What did Jesus mean when He said He'd give us rest? That question interrupted my trains of lists.

     I'm prone to feel better about myself after I've worked hard on something. That probably resonates with many. Along with that mentality is the opposite side, usually having a sort of guilt when I am not contributing to something.

     The grace of God has this double-edge to it that both comforts me and also offends me. Knowing that I am accepted and loved, in spite of everything I know about myself,  is incredible. I spend most of my life meditating on this. Sneaking in between though, are my assumptions of cause and effect.  Aren't my good efforts worthy of reward? I'd like to think that my hard work and dedication kind of makes Father God a little extra proud of me, and maybe share a tiny bit more blessings. I sometimes get motivated to do, do, do because I want to "give back" or show God that I am not an ungrateful child.

     Here's what God says about this:

      "For it is by free grace (God's unmerited favor) that you are saved (delivered from judgment and made partakers of Christ's salvation) through [your] faith. And this [salvation] is not of yourselves [of your own doing, it came not through your own striving], but it is the gift of God;  Not because of works [not the fulfillment of the Law's demands], lest any man should boast. [It is not the result of what anyone can possibly do, so no one can pride himself in it or take glory to himself.]- Ephesians 2:8-9 {Amplified}

     That hurts my pride. It really does. It is back to being leveled again, like I mentioned in an earlier post. As much as I'd love to convince the world, and myself,  how much I believe in equality, I secretly feel better than others. I must feel that, otherwise I'd never expect any favoritism from God. I can't expect God to ever treat me differently unless I somehow think I deserve better treatment. So grace is offensive in that regard. God freely shares His kingdom with any and every who believe. It eliminates any possibility of pride. The fact that it is "free" clearly reveals that there isn't any special way we can earn it. It is free. Just like that. Free.

     By the time Luke Skywalker was getting a feel for being a Jedi, my mind was calming down. In fact, we went on to watch a fourth Star Wars film that day. I confronted my personal Darth Vader trying to wreck my day of rest with the family. That's corny, but it seems to fit. There is a rest available, free, and without any strings attached. Of course I don't live on the futon bed every day! But, on those rare occasions when I recharge, I am going to give God all the glory for offending my pride.
   

   

"Nope, It Is Not Personal" Heart Therapy #8

     A few things stand out in my memory of my high school graduation ceremony. There was a part when our principal announced all the colleges students were moving on to. We had a few for MIT, Brown, and other Ivy League institutions, and we even had someone go to West Point that year. Then there was that awkward moment when "Zion Bible College" was read over the sound system. Instead of clapping or whistling, there was quiet chatter in the crowd. We, the graduates, were seated on the football field, but could hear a little bit of the surrounding conversations. But, I heard loud and clear one of my classmates laugh and say, "That's Merks! He joined a cult!" And, then another guy pointed at me and called me "Father Merks" while he genuflected. A few seats next to me was a kid "Mike P", who had known me since elementary school. Right then, he said that he'd like to make a bet with me that in 20 years from then I'd never even want to mention Jesus. He said he was sure "it was just a phase" I was going through. Then, someone backed him up on that prediction, and they both confidently told me to "just wait". I was so uncomfortable. This was mostly because it felt like everyone on the field and in the bleachers were focusing on me. Maybe it was less than a minute, but because "Zion" was last on the alphabetical list, it seemed like there was the most time afterwards for those reactions. I'm sure I was flush red in the face. Obviously, since I still remember it 20 years later, it had a big impact.

     It wasn't the students getting laughs at my expense that really bugged me. I played football, so I was used to the stupid antics of teenagers. In fact, during my freshman year, I was forced to wear a headband that said "SCHMUCK" for the whole week of football camp. That was actually one of the nicest things done to all the freshmen! There were unspeakable things done with Icy Hot cream or the fearful port o potty. So, I understood that testosterone causes boys to be punks. 

     Grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins, and family friends gathered at our home for a celebration afterwards. They shook my hand, wished me luck, and said all the usual cliches. I'm sure I received some generous gifts. And I'm sure people felt like something good had been accomplished. 

     I didn't want any part of it. I really wanted to go to some far, far away place. 

     I was feeling completely misunderstood. Following Jesus was a new thing for me at that time, but it was revolutionary for me. God rescued me. Holy Spirit stripped the blindness from my eyes to see; to see that I was actually lovable and valuable. That was not an intuitive realization for me. Everybody in my school knew that I was the kid arrested the year before for stealing all those sneakers from Footlocker. They all saw the cop cars surrounding my van in the school parking lot. They all heard the whispers throughout the hallways of "grand larceny". Very few acts of shame had been done like that in my town. So it was common knowledge. It makes sense that people assumed I was reaching for anything else to grab on to. And those guys who were placing bets about me weren't doing it unfounded.  

     I was an unstable being, like a kite so easily directed by wandering winds. 

     A Navy recruiter met me shortly after my arrest, and knew all the promises to lure me in. I scored high enough on the ASVAB to be invited into the nuclear engineering program, which was supposed to be exclusive and elite. I was part of "delayed enlistment" which meant that I could finish my senior year of high school before going full-time duty. We just did basic drills and weekend trips to bases. But, my identity was being repaired. Military life has its advertised attributes of honor, respect, and the like. It was exactly what I needed, so I fully immersed myself into the culture. I wore Navy clothing, covered my locker and books with Navy stickers, and even earned the nickname "Nuke". 

     Before the Navy, there was athletics, and before that it was heavy metal, and I guess before that it was BMX.  Whatever was important to me at a particular time period became my entire life. I had no idea who I really was. I would gladly go anywhere or do anything for clarity. There were no consistent descriptors of me. 

     But, that was actually the consistent reality. Every single year of my life, I wanted to know just what it was really all about. 

     Back at the graduation party, I was so frustrated because it seemed like nobody else wanted to know. Nobody asked me why I was going to Bible college, or why I quit the Navy. There were no personal questions. Nobody wanted to defend what people may have been saying at the ceremony. Just handshakes and congratulations. Assumptions seemed welcome, and lies tolerated. Maybe they were all just relieved I wasn't in trouble for something that day. 

     At some point, I couldn't fake it anymore, and I hid upstairs in my bedroom. I sat on the edge of my bed and cried. When I realized that a long time had gone by, I cried even deeper. I cried those hot tears that give headaches. Those tears that shake your shoulders and stutter your breathing. 

     When I had my head buried in my hands, there suddenly came something like a firm, but loving grip on my shoulders. Words were spoken to me. Promises. Assurances. I am positive of what was said, but I could never begin to explain the process.

     This reminds me of that scene from the movie Evan Almighty, when the senator has to confess that "God spoke to him". Well, God doesn't speak to me like that. Not face to face. But, supernaturally, the distance between the spiritual realm and earthly realm shrink. And in those special places, we can discern the invisible.

     Jesus simply reminded me that I belonged to Him. I didn't look for God to be the new answer for my life. Quite the opposite! I figured God wouldn't waste time on someone like me. I wasn't going to go bother His pursuit of better candidates. Thankfully, Jesus doesn't tolerate lies like that. He draws near to the lowly, and lifts them up. That is what happened to me. I had heard Him running after me, so to speak. I saw the signs. But, it has actually been one surprise after another. 

     And on that graduation night, when I felt like everyone would rather dismiss this power, He reminded me that my identity was surrendered to Him. He is faithful and true. He would never lose me, leave me, deny me, ignore me, be embarrassed or ashamed of me.  All those searches for love or belonging, which led me into disappointment or shame, had all been allowed by God to help me tell the difference. Jesus has done that repeatedly in my life ever since. Whenever I attempt to satisfy my heart with temporary pieces of Earth, God calls me home from the prodigal lands. He reveals afresh how incomparable everlasting love is.  I heard promises on that bedside which have been kept relentlessly ever since. God comforted me then, and still does today. 

     I vividly remember all those details about that day in 1992. God drew near to me, proving to me that every detail is significant. No tear goes unknown to the Father. That just compels me to love and worship. 

     So, that is what really was hurting me in the immature laughing and mocking. I'll always be the first to admit to being an idiot. I own my choices, no matter what. What bothered me so much was that the fingers were pointed the wrong direction. It's never been about me. When people wrongly attribute whatever good has become of my life to my control, they miss out completely. It makes me so sad. I was lucky enough to get caught in the pursuit of counterfeit happiness. Many others are not so lucky, and have to pretend. They pretend so well at times, that they just shake their heads at people like me. But it's not personal. 

     I am kind of lucky to that I saw how screwed up I was before could pretend better. And I'm blessed that God is way more faithful to that truth than I am. There have been plenty of humbling interventions since those days. People could call it whimsical phases, I suppose. They could probably predict quite accurately that I'm going to make other mistakes, even while I proclaim to follow Jesus. I'm fine with that. I'm the easy target. But, seriously, it's not personal. Jesus promised me that He'd finish the restoration process that He began all those years ago. 

     That's the safer bet, with the best odds. 

     

Part Seven : "The Child-Filled Life Has It All"

I didn't get a chance to write yesterday. Not that I didn't have any time. I actually had plenty of time, since I am in the middle of my summer break. But, I have kids. And, the general consensus is that kids get in the way of what parents really want to do.

Before I had children:

• I used to be able to do pretty much whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted
• romance was spontaneous 
• I slept for more than a few hours each night 
• I traveled to far-away lands
• leaving the house took less than several hours
• I tasted my food while dining out
• showers were safer, since I wasn't stepping on or slipping on toys
• I took more showers!
• my kitchen floor was not coated with sticky substances
• my Netflix "Suggestions" were not exclusively filled with purple dinosaurs
• I could remember what I forgot
• I had fewer worries, and way more money. 

Basically, having children wrecked my life. 

The crazy thing is that Jessy and I have to jump over mountains to get to this place. We seem to be surrounded by people who have kids using the Staples "EASY" button. Either God has that item on backorder for us, or it's just not available in our universe's marketplace. Both Jessy and I are infertile.

That means even when we are insane enough to want to grow our family, we have to get roomfuls of strangers to give us their approval. We have to go through emotional roller coasters of referrals and waiting. There are months and months of meetings, doctor visits, tests, tests, more tests, meetings, and then more visits. There is poking and prodding. The science of IVF is awesome, it's true, but it is a bit dehumanizing. It's all numbers and probability.

It forces us to agonize over each decision. What logical mind chooses to inject giant hormone-filled needles in exchange for lottery-like chances of pregnancy? For more mouths to feed? For more screams to endure?

It really doesn't make sense. The child-free life actually does appear to be easier and more enjoyable. That is why I know that my life needs to be wrecked.

I was reading about a time when Jesus got angry. Yep, Jesus angry. It had to do with children.

As usual, crowds were gathering around to hear Jesus teach, and all the mature adults were soaking it all in. Then children showed up, probably started acting all childlike and immature, and the adults got frustrated. Adults grow up to like things particular ways, and try to limit too many uncontrollable things. Children bring chaos. It's a hard match.

So, of course, the adults try to preserve their orderly environment with acts of disapproval toward the kids' parents. I imagine them lecturing the parents about how important, or maybe even, how sacred the place was because of Jesus.

One day some parents brought their children to Jesus so he could touch and bless them. But the disciples scolded the parents for bothering him. When Jesus saw what was happening, he was angry with his disciples. He said to them, “Let the children come to me. Don’t stop them! For the Kingdom of God belongs to those who are like these children. I tell you the truth, anyone who doesn’t receive the Kingdom of God like a child will never enter it.” Then he took the children in his arms and placed his hands on their heads and blessed them. ( Mark 10:14 )

People who choose not to have children have been called selfish. I think that is an unfair generalization, and I'd never conclude that. I'm selfish, I know that for sure. I definitely do not openly embrace this parenting role. Many, many times I've wished to escape.

That gets me right to the root of the matter. Even though it is a far more complicated, sometimes exhausting existence being around children, it is a far better life. It is better because it wrecks us. And that is better because we are all selfish when it comes to how we choose to live.

I'm not talking about just having or not having kids. I'm talking about our stubborn will to control this journey. Whether it be parenting or any other factor, we squeeze out the possibility for the miraculous. We fight so hard against any unexpected variables.

Being around children has brought me deeper and deeper into dependency in God's supernatural power. Not because I'm more spiritual, but because I'm so much more aware of my need! I'm desperate for peace, and can see clearer now that peace is not available on Earth. I'm desperate for comfort, and see that Jesus has always wanted to provide that to me.

I love Jesus because He does not leave me to follow my own assumptions. My grip is weakening. It is the experiences of things like parenting that weaken it. I am letting go of asserting my independence, and all the turmoil that comes with that lonely battle.

And, before you judge me an unfit father, please know that I could list thousands of examples of the blessings of my children. Those also point me to God, and deepen my love for Him. It's not an argument though. There are going to be countless editorials written now about that Time magazine article. I'm almost positive that conservative radio and tv is going to go nuts over it. It is not a debate though. Let's be real. This thing is a beautiful mess, not opposing sides.

Part Six : "Hypocrisy"

I’m the biggest hypocrite I know

because I know

I know what to do 

exactly when I don’t do it

I know where to go

exactly when I’m running

I know the very reason why

that I don’t want to try

gripping instead my lie

and blinding my own eye

Yes, I’m the ugliest of ugly

since I’ve looked at true beauty

and still choose the other lover

since I’ve heard the sweetest sounds

and still swarm to the murmurings

Yes, I’m most foolish of a fool

leaving the healing pool

to simply sink in the mud

trading in my share

 of endless living water

to coat my throat with dust

Jesus, why do you still love me?

You just won’t quit.

-Merks 2013

Part Five : "Creativity"

"Broken stained-glass windows, the fragments ramble on
Tales of broken souls, an eternity's been won
As critics scorn the thoughts and works of mortal man
My eyes are drawn to you in awe once again
In your picture book I'm trying hard to see
Turning endless pages of this tragedy
Sculpting every move you compose a symphony
You plead to everyone, "see the art in me"

-from the song Art in Me by Jars of Clay


Walking through Franklin Park Zoo the other day, I had this very imminent sense of seeing things differently. I'm usually in awe of the organisms we get to observe there, but we've been going there a lot lately. We became members, so visits are without future cost. Since it is kind of like a "free" family trip, we bring the kids there quite a bit. They love it. It does have an awesome playground, which is a bonus. But, you know, the stripes of a zebra don't seem as exotic the thirteenth time.

Sloths are probably my favorite species. I don't know why I love them so much, but they are just so fascinating to me. Their movements, while almost mechanical, appear to me like a painter adding intricate details to a piece.

Well, usually I just see sloths sleeping, or maybe a slight change of position hanging from a tree limb. I've heard that they are good swimmers, but have yet to see that in person. That would be awesome!

I was so lucky to actually see a few minutes of very animated activity recently. Two sloths were circling around their zoo habitat, almost like they were exploring. I started taking pics immediately, and while I was doing that one of the sloths climbed unto the fence right in front of me. It poked its crazy fingernails through the fence grabbing my phone! I had to put my phone in my pocket while I stared into its eyes. So cool.

It renewed my awe. Stirred up within me was my deep awe and admiration for God's creation. And the rest of the zoo visit felt like I was wearing some special glasses. I noticed how God designed the transformative process of butterflies to illustrate our new birth. I saw how beautiful the patterns are on peacocks. I marveled at the circulatory system of giraffes, praising God for revealing His creativity in this.

I never want to take this for granted. All the most incredible sights on Earth point us to Jesus.

"The Son is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation.  For in Him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things have been created through Him and for Him."
                                            (Colossians 1:16-17)

Some days I see things like a rainbow, and immediately think of God's promises. But other days, my heart is dulled. I forget things like every hair on my children's heads are numbered by Him.

I love Jesus because He reminds me that whatever buzz word is being used to describe creativity, whether it be "innovation", "divergent", or the like...well, it all really comes from Him. God made everything from nothing.

When my head is foggy, and things seem to be stagnant, I look to Jesus to breathe life into me. I look to Him to open my eyes. I depend on Him to imitate His artwork.

Part Four : "Fear"

It would be a big fat lie if I said I wasn't afraid of anything. There are many things that freak me out. FREAK me out. I kind of want to go see "The Conjuring" film, but then again...

Just the other night, around 2am or so, Jessy and I were awakened to what sounded like knocking on our bedroom door. We just moved into one of those historic "triple deckers" in Dorchester, and are not yet used to all the sounds. Things creak. Doors slam from mysterious wind gusts. Walls seem to conduct sounds from who knows where in the neighborhood. All these unfamiliars are way heightened at 2am.

At first, I just sorted the knocking sound along with all the other weird noises of the house. Then, it was louder. And, by then, both Jessy and I were awake and trying to figure out if we were dreaming the same nightmare.

Another knock, this one louder. The knocking is clearly not just a strange sound, but as if someone is actually knocking on our bedroom door to see if someone is there.

I was going over and over in my head us locking all the doors before we went to sleep. We had put both the kids to bed and their door was fully shut. We would have heard one of them break the child-proof lock and open it. Our baby monitor was on and working.

The week before this, my car was broken into. So, one of the unfamiliar things is what our new neighborhood is like after dark.

The third time the knocking happened caused me to stand up beside my bed. I wanted to pull the covers over my head. I thought of all the possible worst case scenarios, and realized that I was only wearing my boxers. What's so funny about that, is that in my mind, I felt like I should be dressed to properly encounter a burglar! But, then I also realized that I really had nothing to defend myself against a burglar. So, maybe the sight of my extremely pale torso would alarm him?!

I was scared. I remember telling Jessy that I had to go check on the kids. I felt like I couldn't possibly protect myself without first protecting them. Although, I really, really, really did not want to open that door.

And, this is the part where things are different for me now, as compared to before Jesus was my King. I was scared. But, while all the worst case scenarios were running through my head, there were also hundreds of promises I've heard Jesus tell me.

(Romans 8:37-39) No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons . . . will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

(James 4:7) Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.

(1Peter 5:8) Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Resist him, standing firm in the faith...

(Psalm 27:1) The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?

Now, all that might seem like quite a big stretch to some people. Demons? Satan?

Well, we can have that conversation another time. But, one of the main reasons I love Jesus is that He set me free from evil. Sure, there are millions of superstitions, and millions more to be imagined. it doesn't change the reality that there is a dimension that is beyond the physical, and there are good and evil beings. I don't honestly want to know all about the evil, but I am comforted to know that Jesus has the ultimate victory. And I belong to Jesus.

So, because I know Jesus is greater than all my fear, I was able to face them. It may sound silly, but I was able to open the bedroom door and get out of my head's nightmares. And, I'll admit to having many more fears, some worse than that over my lifetime. I love Jesus because He already knows all about them. Even in the darkest places of my warped mind, His power has rearranged them to freedom.

I wish more followers of Jesus would talk about these things. People need to know that they don't have to live in the bondage of fear. Yeah, it sounds super strange to discuss demons. I get that. But we all love to talk about angels, don't we?

Anyway, there was an actual physical knocking of our bedroom door that night. It wasn't all in our heads. Emilio, our 4 year old, had peed his bed, and came looking for us to help him. He wasn't used to the house yet either, so he was knocking on different doors to find our bedroom. Because I was so relieved, I wasn't even the slightest upset that I had to make his bed again at 2am in the morning. I'll take urine over those other thoughts every time!

Now, anybody want to go see that movie with me? :)

Part Three : "Uninvited"

It might just be my own personal bias, but I am never comfortable or at ease in fancy restaurants or big houses. Honestly, there have been times when I felt incredibly strange just being in a designer retail store. Or, I'll be on vacation, staying at a resort, and not be able to shake off this feeling like I am doing something wrong. Expensive things, places, or experiences simply do not sit well with me. I'm not trying to frame some theology, or guilt anyone. I'm just sharing an internal experience, which may be completely unjustified.

But, I will say that I know Jesus can understand. I love that Jesus spoke so much about the poor and disenfranchised during His human experience here. He said things like:

“When you put on a luncheon or a banquet,” he said, “don’t invite your friends, brothers, relatives, and rich neighbors. For they will invite you back, and that will be your only reward. Instead, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind." (Lk 14:12)

Seriously, who does that? We all seem to do quite the opposite, living self-indulgently. But, sometimes we have an epiphany. We hear stories of millionaires giving away all their money, or of extreme makeovers and the like. There is the mark of our Creator within us all pointing us to stop our selfishness.

If you want to see the best example of this, take a minute and read Philippians 2. It shows how God, ultimate power, came to His own creation in the most vulnerable manner. And, God even allowed us to murder Him just to prove how much He loves us.

So, what really upsets me is people twisting the whole story for their own selfish gain. I hear preachers telling of so-called secrets to get healthy and rich. I see churches that cost millions of dollars to build and maintain. And, I've yet to go to any party where the poor, crippled, lame, and blind are the invited.

But, I love Jesus. I know He is not mocked. It doesn't matter what is being done in His name, because in the end, He will sort it all out. In the meantime, I just want to be close to Him, and that probably means few, if any visits to exclusive, VIP events.

“Then the King will turn to those on the left and say, ‘Away with you, you cursed ones, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his demons. For I was hungry, and you didn’t feed me. I was thirsty, and you didn’t give me a drink. I was a stranger, and you didn’t invite me into your home. I was naked, and you didn’t give me clothing. I was sick and in prison, and you didn’t visit me.’“Then they will reply, ‘Lord, when did we ever see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and not help you?’“And he will answer, ‘I tell you the truth, when you refused to help the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were refusing to help me.’“And they will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous will go into eternal life.” (Matt 25:41-46)

Part Two : "Expectations"

Family reunions seem to be synonymous with family drama, at least for me. Not always the kind of drama that you see on TV shows like Cops, but the kind that usually results in frustrated social media posts or a strong desire for a drink. It is all tied into our expectations. We all expect family to be especially loving, accepting, and supportive. We expect family to ask us questions about the things that matter, or to overlook our shortcomings and past mistakes as they immediately embrace whatever our lives are revolving around at the present moment. We expect family to be way better than other humans.

So, we get disappointment invariably.

Sometimes, it is a bit more complicated. Like, the reality that I haven't seen my dad in years. That, when I was nearly 3 years old, he went on a completely different path, leaving me out of it. There were a few phone calls growing up. I would hear an unfamiliar voice telling me he loved me and that he promised to come see me soon. That voice would tell me elaborate promises of going to Disneyworld or other adventures, kinds that children imagine. But, by the time I approached my teenage years, I learned to stop believing.

Fast forward some decades later, and my dad and I do have some concrete memories together. Those are not pleasant. Drugs and alcohol took him to places we both regret. Although the experiences were different, the theme stayed the same. I would have a horrible visit with him, and then swear I'd never see him again. Then, I'd hope for change, and start stubbornly dreaming of a healthy relationship. A year or two would go by, and then we'd start the cycle again.

It came to an impasse a few Christmas's ago. The grace of God humbled me to see how unforgiving I'd been towards my dad. How I blamed him for everything, and refused to see him just as broken and confused by this world as I was. A pastor was preaching verse by verse through the Book of Romans, and one Sunday morning I could not stop weeping through the entire service. I think we were in the second chapter, talking about how all of us are just as sinful as anyone else. I kept seeing an image of Jesus saying, "Forgive them, for they know not why they do it." I kept seeing Jesus forgive me of the mess I made with my life. And, for the first time, I saw my dad as my equal. I stopped expecting him to be better than me, to somehow have all the answers to life's questions. That is what the love of God does to us. It levels us.

Of course, I was very anxious to share this revelation with my dad. It had been at least three years since we last saw each other. It always takes me some investigative work to find an address or phone number for him, but I began the process. I found out that my grandmother had died, and the obituary had some leads for me to locate him. I left some messages with an uncle who had contact with him, and waited. I am used to waiting. And I began dreaming again of restoration and happily ever afters.

My dad called me on Christmas. I ran outside as soon as I saw the phone number from New York, excited to begin this miracle.

It went somewhat like I imagined. I told him how sorry I was for expecting so much from him over the years. I explained how Jesus showed me both of our need for a Savior, and how I had needed to forgive him as a result of the undeserved grace that I received. Not that I simply needed to forgive, but that I truly wanted to. I shared with my dad how I would stop holding it over his head that he had never been there for me. I told him I just wanted us to move forward.

I didn't imagine his response, or see it coming at all. He said that he, in fact, had already moved on. His current family situation was enough for him. My dad told me then that he didn't have room for me or want to be part of any future together. His words were blunt and heavier than the weight of my unforgiveness towards him. There couldn't have been any clearer an explanation of rejection.

This is the most complicated kind of love. Uncertain love.

This is why the way Jesus loves me twists me inside out. It is an easy love. I've never had to do anything to earn it. It is an everlasting, unfailing love. It never changes. Jesus has shown me many times how foolish I've thought about His love. I've let shame keep me from approaching Him. I've wrongly concluded that God might not have room for me in His plans; that my life is too much a burden to Him to bother Him with.

One time, Jesus was teaching people about this idea:

“You fathers—if your children ask for a fish, do you give them a snake instead? Or if they ask for an egg, do you give them a scorpion? Of course not! So if you sinful people know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him.”
(Luke 11:13)

I know exactly what He means here. I don't stop loving my kids, even when they are acting crazy. It delights me to see them delighted. If I feel this way towards them, how much more does God feel towards me. I love Him because I know I am secure in His love.

I can't expect too much from Jesus. That is why I love Him. What a difference! No disappointments. Complete satisfaction. I love Jesus because He loves me completely. All of me. It is certain.

The last thing I am thinking about today is that I am certain about His love because of what Jesus already demonstrated when He came to Earth. People often say that God loves everybody "unconditionally". We toss around that term "unconditional" way too carelessly. It actually makes his love way too small. I think the author David Powlison explains this best:

God does not accept me just as I am;
He loves me despite how I am;
He loves me just as Jesus is;
He loves me enough to devote my life to renewing me in the image of Jesus.
This love is much, much, much better than unconditional! Perhaps we could call it “contraconditional” love.
Contrary to the conditions for knowing God’s blessing, He has blessed me because His Son fulfilled the conditions.
Contrary to my due, He loves me.
And now I can begin to change, not to earn love but because of love.
. . . You need something better than unconditional love.
You need the crown of thorns.
You need the touch of life to the dead son of the widow of Nain.
You need the promise to the repentant thief.
You need to know, “I will never leave you or forsake you.”
You need forgiveness.
You need a Vinedresser, a Shepherd, a Father, a Savior.
You need to become like the one who loves you.
You need the better love of Jesus.

 -from the book God's Love: Better Than Unconditional

Heart Therapy : Part One

"Sometimes you have to watch somebody love something before you love it yourself."
                                   - Don Miller, Author, Blue Like Jazz

I love Jesus.

Even just typing that sentence stirs up so many different reactions within me, and I know any reader will feel the same. So, I've decided that I'm going to spend the next month trying to describe it. Because, as with any relationship, we need to keep it fresh and fervent by dwelling on the foundation. I've heard love described as just as much something that happens to you as it is something you decide to do. And I think both processes are rooted in an intentional choice to enthusiastically experience those mysterious impulses.

I'm going to think "out loud" in a font that hopefully conveys sincerity. There isn't a map, or really even a definite coherence for what I'm going to work out over this time. I just want to record, probably mostly for my own reminding, how Jesus is healing me and refining me in His everlasting love. Admittedly, I'm often forthcoming to my own detriment. But, for this thing, I am hoping to stretch deep enough beyond any need for human praise and affirmation. I certainly do hope, very openly, that any readers will yearn to know and experience the love of God as I attempt to communicate it. And, I am grateful that the divine romance won't be stifled because of me if I fail to do it any justice.

I love Jesus because God overcomes my inclination to feel unlovable and unworthy. I love Jesus because I have no idea what "love" even means without His example. I love Jesus because even when I don't, or think I cannot love, there is an eternal surplus of interventions. I am in love in spite of my heart's weak response to an overwhelming stimuli.

Next, I'm going to share how Jesus loves me with an easy love. By "easy", I mean effortless, and by "effortless", I mean my own efforts.