re-wiring…

December 2, 2014 — 1 Comment

We bought a Christmas Tree.

In the beginning God created it and gave the tree to us for Christmas. It was without form and void, and darkness was over the face of it. And the Spirit of God was hovering over me as I set out to add the lights:

First, the lights from last year didn’t all survive. Of the strands that remained, a few of the bulbs were no longer working, but not enough to make a dramatic effect. So I began weaving the green wires in and out of the branches.

About 1/4 of the way up, I was out of lights.

To the store…

Once home, I opened a fresh new box of 300-count lights, only to realize that the plethora of lights were packed into a mere number of feet. Three green wires were tightly braided together to form an extremely dense cluster of lights. Fearing a return to the store, I untwisted and manipulated the 300. I tucked and stretched. I stepped back to view. Nope. No way. No how. The center of the newly donned tree shone as bright as a burning apartment building, while the lower branches twinkled like stars. I untucked and unstretched. I twisted and manipulated. There was no way these lights were getting back into the box. If only they responded like my son’s tummy when I tell him to “suck it in” to button his pants.

I had to forget the tree for a minute…so I moved on to a new room and found a nice ledge to softly drape my now contorted strand of new Christmas lights. It was pretty. Whew.

And there was evening, and there was morning, the first day.

With morning came another trip to the store after dropping the kids off to school. Promises were made to have the tree ready for decoration when they returned. Three boxes of 150 lights…double checked…no clusters of lights.

When school was out, next to the tree I opened and untied the first bundle of 3. I wove under and over, forward and back. Lots of twinkling sparkles. Beautiful. The first box was a success. I opened and unwrapped the second and went to connect it to the previous strand. NO!!! No outlet. I didn’t buy the lights that connect one strand to the next.

“I am NOT taking these lights off,” I said to myself. I continued with the new box, sneaking the cord to the original source of energy down the trunk of the tree. With what remained, I placed the rest of the lights between arms and fingers of branches. It wasn’t too noticeable. Disaster averted. Onto box three.

I turned to reach for it when I saw that my little helpers had already broken the seal…

Sigh..now to untangle the third strand of lights.

I draped the lights over one child and asked them to follow carefully behind me as we circled the tree with the last set of lights. Again, I threaded the plug down to the outlet first, then climbed the step ladder to start sprucing up the last top third of the tree. Half-way around the whole tree went dark.

And there was evening, and there was morning, the third day.

Back to the floor to find my chaotic daisy chain of plugs and wires. Unplugging and switching order and figuring out which lights or line of lights were the culprit. The section of last year’s lights were to blame. I stripped the bottom rows of branches and pulled and stretched at the new lights to avoid starting the whole process over again. It kind of worked. I figured presents would cover up the bottom anyways…or maybe we’ll go heavy on the ornaments down there.

I headed back to the top untouched portion of the tree and the last bit of lights. Round and round we went until every light was intentionally placed for the best overall effect. You’ve got to be kidding me. About a foot of the tree remained unlit.

I turned to the staircase, where our stockings were hanging, tied over stiff and scraggly garland and one short thin strand of about 50 lights.

With a huff, I forced each tiny bulb under each knot that held each of the 6 stockings.

Back to the ladder, where I just threw the flimsy 4 feet of lights at the peak of the tree, tucked in the ends a little and stepped back to look at the finished tree…FINALLY.

Not too bad, I thought. But now it was entirely too late to start the reminiscing of each homemade ornament as we placed them on the tree. Promises broken.

And there was evening, and there was morning, the fourth day.

Bright and early we woke to head off to school. As the kids made their way down the stairs, I heard while back in my bedroom closet… “What happened to the lights on the tree?”

sigh

And there was evening, and there was morning, the fifth day.

I avoided the tree for nearly half the day. When it finally became apparent to me that I was letting an oversized stick have rule over my day and my joy, I went through the leftover Halloween candy. Yep…didn’t touch that tree. I ate green Twizzlers and a fun-size PayDay instead.

And there was evening, and there was morning, the sixth day.

Surely, I can light this stupid Christmas tree in a week. Today is the day.

After removing 3 strands of lights (I don’t even know where the 3rd came from), buying one more box of 300 (the right kind that connects end to end, and adding an extension cord with multiple outlets, the tree is done. It ain’t perfect, but it’s done.

No lie, when I stepped back and took the final look, the “Alleluia Chorus” came on the Pandora Christmas station. You can’t make that stuff up. Now I’m just praying it doesn’t start an electrical fire between now and Christmas Day.

And on the seventh day I finished my tree that I had lit, and I rested on the seventh day from all the work that I had done.

A whole week was spent unwiring and disconnecting to produce light in a dark place. The analogy is not lost on me. When I am dark in spirit, when my light seems to have fizzled out, it takes time to rewire my heart, to reconnect with the Spirit. It doesn’t take time because the Spirit is slow to react or that I have to wait for the Father to reset His gaze upon me. God never leaves me nor forsakes me. Rather it is I, the twisted and confused amidst the prickly needles of this world. Because I am slow, because I have to reset my eyes to Jesus, it takes time– intentional time in quiet and still places. Again, I am reminded that this is Life After Rehab. When the temptations of relapse make everything a blur, I, like the addict, have to step back and re-evaluate where I am vulnerable and weak.

Back in the series of posts: 7 steps for Life After Rehab, I addressed all of the things that I already have forgotten. Step 7 was “Stay alert for signs of a relapse”…yeah, that would have been a good one to remember. I haven’t been alert, as evidenced by buying the wrong kind of lights…twice.

I rewire with a heart of thankfulness and gratitude. I reconnect with quiet time in the Word and in prayer, becoming comfortable to sit still and just listen to Him…scary as it may be. I am relit by all of His blessings and all the ways He loves me. I am recharged by His words of love and forgiveness for me.

“For it is all for your sake, so that as grace extends to more and more people it may increase thanksgiving, to the glory of God.

So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison.”

2 Corinthians 4:15-17

Pass the friggin’ peas!

November 3, 2014 — Leave a comment

I realized this weekend that something has happened to me. I wish I could say it’s been a good change– a noble transformation. But in terms of Life After Rehab, it probably would fall under the category of “relapse”. The best way for me to sum up my condition: an ugly exchange.

In preparation for a women’s retreat in which I am speaking in a couple of months, I’ve been studying the simple reality that God takes the bad and replaces it with good. Charles Spurgeon calls it the ‘beautiful exchange’. There are numerous places in Scripture where God promises to take the ugly and replace it with beauty–to give us an amazing trade. It’s the spiritual version of receiving filet mignon in exchange for a day old peanut butter and jelly sandwich at the lunch table. We do nothing but benefit from the deal.

However, this is what I mean by my recent ugly exchange:

I’ve given back the fillet mignon and have snatched the pb and j after it’s been halfway down the throat of another. It’s gross and ugly.

I went from a sensitivity to the Spirit’s stimulation to an overstimulation of insensitivity.

November is the month of ‘thanks’. It’s customary to stuff our faces, overindulging in the good stuff at Thanksgiving dinner, and go around the table giving thanks for all we have. What better time is there than now to refresh gratitude, to count bounty, to turn away from the ugly exchange and embrace once again the good Jesus has for me?

I’ve gone from scooping up dish after dish of all that God has placed before me, to starring at my empty plate listening to others ask for me to pass the sweet potatoes. I look down and have forgotten to lift my eyes to the cornucopia feast laid with care for me– well, for all of us. I have starred at the emptiness and have entrapped my eyes on all that is missing, insomuch that when I hear the requests of little ones for help in cutting their turkey or buttering their roll, I forget that the table is even set. When I hear loved ones asking me to pass the green bean casserole, I grow frustrated and disillusioned. I merely shout back, “We don’t have turkey, we don’t have butter…there is no green bean casserole!” But, of course, in front of my place card, the facts are sure and certain: There is a bounty to be had. Yet, all I can see is scarcity on a shiny white plate.

There is nothing for me.

There is nothing for them.

What went wrong? Where has the beauty gone? Why has the sensitivity to the Spirit abandoned me?

I have approached the table without gratitude, with eyes closed to what the Father has prepared for me. My vision is near-sighted and all I see is what lay immediately under my nose. When I have been sensitive to the Spirit, it is only because my first waking breath has started with authentic gratitude.

Ann Voskamp has picked up and reenergized what has existed since creation: “And God saw that it was good.” It’s a fact and an attitude of thanks that our society has forgotten. We love to wallow in our hardships. We love to loathe in our sufferings, because to do so (in theory) receives the attention and affections of others. Why are we so hungry for pity and mercy to fill our plates when love and grace have been poured out to quench our appetites?

Have you ever known someone who is (or perhaps you find yourself) longing for encouragement, affirmation, and care, only to receive pity? It doesn’t satisfy our hearts. Most of the time when we pity others, they only persist all the more in telling us how horrible or difficult the situation because their need has not been met. In our selfishness, this only convinces us to serve another round of pity and false compassion. Almost assuredly when we are overstimulated by the sensitivity of others all we seem to produce for them is disingenuous pity. It’s a horrible cycle. In our competitive society we are rarely comfortable to sacrificially love and support one another. We wrongly assume that genuine care jeopardizes our own successes. We desire lack-luster meals of pity because there is an absence of daily and persistent offerings of authentic gratitude for one another.

What if we daily fed to one another encouragement, reminders of God’s love, words that promote peace and gentleness? We’d probably sound like happy-go-lucky hippies…and maybe that’s my point.

We might sound uber-positive in a sarcastic and ribbing world, and that might be uncomfortable (for us and others). It might even look a little self-righteous or inauthentic in the eyes of those who’d rather live at surface level competing for “best-looking”, “most-popular”, or “most likely to succeed”. However, we wouldn’t be so aggravated by the weak, the needy, or the hungry. We’d see the feast of provision before us. We’d smell all the wonder of pumpkin pie and desire to share it even with those who mock us. We wouldn’t be so cruel and self-centered and we’d pass the friggin’ peace!

I have taken the beauty of the Holy Spirit and traded it in for the old selfish pouting of the past. What was I thinking?

When I adhere to the Word of God:

1 Thessalonians 5:18: “…give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.”

…than I realize I have more than enough to share. I have more than enough time. I have more than enough compassion. I have more than enough love. I have more than enough prayer. I have more than enough grace. Not because I am righteous, holy, or better than others, but because it has been graciously given. I stop being insensitive and annoyed and am genuinely thankful that I have been adequately equipped for all the hungry mouths before me…and I even start sounding like I have peace that passes understanding and joy that never ends.

Please, be my guest at the table and have a generous helping. The feast set before us tastes much better…

…and there’s more than enough to go around.

Life After Rehab: Step 7…

July 22, 2014 — Leave a comment

Well, we have finally made it to step 7 of our seven-step Life After Rehab series. Thanks for stickin’ through it. 🙂

Step 7: Stay Alert for Signs of Relapse.

“According to the National Institute on Drug Abuse, addiction is a chronic illness, and as a result, 40 to 60 percent of people who have an addiction relapse at least once. This doesn’t mean that addiction treatment isn’t effective, but it does mean that people with addictions will need to amend their lives and be on alert if they’d like to keep the problem from coming back full force. For starters, they might need to know where a relapse, for them, begins. For some, it’s a feeling of sadness or loss. For others, it’s a sensation of happiness or invincibility. These thoughts swirl and swirl, growing stronger and stronger, until a relapse takes place. Capturing and identifying the thought is the key to stopping the relapse. When those thoughts are in place, the person can go back to therapy, visit a sober friend, catch a meeting, or otherwise deal with the issue and stop the cycle. Friends and family members might also be helpful here, as they might also know what a relapse looks like and how it typically starts. They can’t be expected to step in and stop a relapse from taking place, but they can speak up and speak out when they sense trouble, and this might be the prompt that pushes the person to find more intensive treatment” (http://www.michaelshouse.com).

Jesus said, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor” (Luke 4:18-19). Jesus came to set us free from the bondage of our sin. Our chronic condition has been completely healed on the cross. We have that freedom at our fingertips but we so often, like the addict, don’t amend our lives to the entirety of His teachings and His grace, nor faithfully remain on alert for attacks on our freedom. The enemy wants us to think we are still enslaved to sin–that what Jesus did on the cross wasn’t enough or didn’t take. We, like the addict, often don’t catch the little things that lead us to a relapse of the flesh–those things that lead us to strap ourselves back to the chains of bondage.

Feelings of sadness, loss, and invincibility can lead even the most “put-together” Christians down a path of destruction. “Capturing and identifying” as mentioned above for the addict are also key to resisting sin and it’s hold on us. In 2 Corinthians 10:5, Paul instructs fellow believers in Jesus that the battle we fight is not of the flesh but of a divine nature. He tells us to “hold captive every thought.” This means that with every feeling and thought we have, we need to take hold of it, identify it, and then use Christ’s standards to evaluate it. Without this process, our emotions and thoughts can become a swirling river of untamed beliefs and assumptions that guide our behavior and decisions in a destructive way. It’s Satan’s last ditch effort to pull us away from the freedom we have in Christ. Again, this is where a community of Christ-followers and sober-minded friends and mentors is key to survival. There will be times when we are so far gone down the river of frustration, guilt, fear, self-righteousness, doubt, and selfishness that we need others to recognize and identify for us what’s going on. We will need others to pull us out, dry us off, and call us out on our erroneous thinking or behaving. We will need others to speak gentle truths to us in love, reminding us of our freedom and security in Christ.

When we started this “Family Rehab” journey last year, we committed to a year of homeschool in an effort to slow our pace of living down and to reestablish our home during that time. While during the past year we have seen remarkable change in our relationships with our children and have seen them blossom in certain areas, it has not gone as expected. With our relocation, we lost at least half the school year to the mayhem of boxes and house projects. However, we have seen during a less than perfect attempt at homeschooling, positive and fruitful growth in our family, which only shows God’s faithfulness and mercy.

I have wrestled with what lies ahead for us and school. I see the great benefits of homeschool and being with my kids every moment of the day, learning with them along the way. The flexibility of setting our own schedule has been a healing balm for our souls and our home life. There are many reasons to do homeschool again next year. However, I realize that most Americans feel that they cannot afford homeschool or that it isn’t a realistic option for them. So because the majority of the culture around me is facing the realties of parenting in the midst of our crazy fast-paced American goal-setting and success-getting culture, I find myself searching for the answers to some questions:

With the early hours, the days apart from each other, the homework, our own job-stress and expectations, and the bulging schedule, how do we still remain intentionally engaged with the hearts of our children and each other?

How do we live in our American culture, yet not submit to it–without completely pulling out of its systems?

How do we resist finding our value and worth in our success and performance when the culture around us measures us (and everything else–even our churches) by those same weighted standards?

How do we gospel-thrive in a gospel-deficiant culture?

I feel that our year of rehab helped us to rest and hit the reset button. While nowhere near completion, I believe that I have grown in my trust of Jesus and am merely starting to learn what it means to unabashedly move to the gentle whispers of His Spirit, even if He leads me to do something a little bit crazy. I hope that my family is also learning this kind of discernment. I think our freshly rested souls and our post-rehab perspectives encourage us to engage in these kinds of cultural questions. Because of this, (along with some other reasons I can discuss later), we are looking at putting the kids in school next year. Having said that, we are waiting for clear direction from the Lord as to where and if this is truly what is best for our family in this season. There might be a chance that God says we are not ready and need another year of rehab. We might see that we need to “go back to therapy” because we are closer to relapse than we realize. There is a chance that we enter the school system only to pull out again in a year or two. As counter-culture and as counter-Angie as it is, I am trying not to set a 5-year plan and outline the future. We have seen God work in ways that go beyond our plans and, in fact, frustrate our plans. So, we are intentionally not setting any or forming strong biases in the area of education. So many benefits lie in all forms of education, and I believe those differing benefits can be taken advantage of for different seasons.

No matter where our children’s education takes place, this next year will look different. Instead of focusing on a year of rehabilitation, we will focus on applying the things we have learned to our new and crazy fast-paced life. I am sure we will struggle to stay grounded and will have to resist getting swept up in the things of this world. But we will use these helpful steps and trust in Jesus to be sovereign and carry us through. We will rely on those sober-minded friends and family members to pull us from paths or cycles leading to relapse.

We will continue to share our story with you (see blog posts on steps 5 and 6) as we enter Life After Rehab. I invite you to share your stories with me. My prayer is that we will remind each other over the next year that we have all been rehabilitated, restored, renewed and revived in Jesus. His work is complete in us. Let us hold fast to His word and cling to His promises–who He is and who we are in Him. When things start to look more like the world and less like Jesus, let’s hold each other up to the truths found in His deep relentless love. Our performance doesn’t change the work He did on the cross. Our falling off the wagon doesn’t change or take away His victory over sin and eternal death. We get to continue in the joy and freedom found in what He has rehabilitated–what He has restored. We all have new health and life in Him. We all are in life after rehab…let’s support one another and live it together.

We are working on a better format for the sharing of your stories. In the meantime, please share in the comment section. We’d love to be encouraged by what God is doing in your life and support you where you are struggling to see His presence.

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