When my life-long friend got engaged, God gave me the grace to be happy for her. For the most part, I didn't struggle with pity parties of "but what about me?" Actually, I was more jealous that I was losing her to a husband than I was jealous that she got a husband!
When she got pregnant, that's when I began to struggle. It's the comparison problem. It isn't about her and her life. It's about me and what I have or have not.
Emotion clutches my heart. It points at me and then points to my friend. Then points to my friend and points back at me. It grabs my face and pulls me to look at her through the eyes of my own desires and lusts. It paints her happiness with the ugly and painful hues of comparison.
The emotion comes. It snatches my heart and twists, wanting me to either cry or harden my heart. I take the thought captive to the obedience of Christ. I am freed.
Someone posted a photo on Facebook of my friend's baby boy, held in the arms of his recently married 18 year old aunt. The caption read something like, "She wants her own baby now."
My immediate reaction was not, "Oh, that's so cute and sweet." No. It was "Oh, come on. Wait for a bit. You got married at 18. Let the rest of us in our 20s and 30s catch up to you before you go on and have children too!"
It's comparing, isn't it? It's coveting, isn't it? It's wicked, isn't it? And ugly and consuming and unprofitable and not based on truth.
What do I believe about marriage? I believe it's ordained of God and is good. What do I believe about children? I believe they are a gift from God and that part of the purpose of a godly marriage is to produce godly offspring.
But when my emotions grab me, what I believe and what I think separate.
No. Orthopraxy. Live what I believe.
Fortunately, I don't serve a God whose motto is "become your best self." I serve a God who acknowledges that I am a covetous, envious sinner who has been redeemed with the precious blood of the Lamb, and that it is NOT my power that overcomes my tears as I bang my fists into my pillow late at night crying "why not me?" but it is the power of the Holy Spirit, God of the Universe, the one who spoke light into existence, who can comfort my heart, turn my eyes off of myself, and teach me to walk in His ways.
The amazing thing about dealing with singleness is that it really applies to all areas of life where God is sovereign and I am not.
Showing posts with label bitterness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bitterness. Show all posts
Saturday, November 29, 2014
Friday, May 9, 2014
86: let it go and do right
Purely by God's grace, I think I've stopped holding onto the "This is what is fair and this is how life should happen" obsession.
I love listening to audiobooks and audiodramas during my short commute to work. Recently I listened to Into My Hands, the true story of a young Polish girl who helped Jews during the Holocaust. Horrid things happened to her. Things that were not fair.
What would her life have been like if she never "let it go"? I know what would have happened. She would have been an embittered, angry woman in her old age (definitely not who I want to become). Instead, she said on the audiotape (because at the beginning and end they included her actual voice!) that she did not know why God let her save lives.
Not why God let her be raped. Not why she was forced to choose between becoming an old officer's mistress and still being able to protect her Jewish friends or refusing him and having to force them out of their hiding place. She didn't ask why God did not allow her to see her family until 30 years later, after her parents had already died.
When I focus on what is fair, I begin valuing my comfort. When I value my comfort, I forsake the concept of "do right until the stars fall." I cannot hold on to fair and my comfort and still do right no matter the cost, because then I don't want the cost, I don't believe in the cost, the cost is unfair.
And pretty soon, not only have I resisted the sovereignty of God, but my basis of morality becomes shaky as well.
Thank God, He saved me.
As my kids belt out "do right til the stars fall!" with gusto during chapel, my soul is stirred.
Do right. Even if what I have been dealt is too hard. Do right. Even if other people are sinners deserving of God's wrath. Do right. Even if it's just not fair.
So, I'm once again asking God to forgive the sins of the school day, even though I'd rather not think about how I've failed. Because how can He change me unless I admit that I need Him?
So I'm asking God to fight for me and those I love who are being hurt. Because no, it's not fair, and it's not right, but I really can't change people's words and actions. But God is mighty and just and can mete out any consequences He chooses.
And, as always, I'm resigning myself (again) to the thought that my plans, and the plans of the girls around me, to marry (young) and have (large) families, may not be how life happens for us. And that when I'm 86 years old, I will still be singing that He is good.
I love listening to audiobooks and audiodramas during my short commute to work. Recently I listened to Into My Hands, the true story of a young Polish girl who helped Jews during the Holocaust. Horrid things happened to her. Things that were not fair.
What would her life have been like if she never "let it go"? I know what would have happened. She would have been an embittered, angry woman in her old age (definitely not who I want to become). Instead, she said on the audiotape (because at the beginning and end they included her actual voice!) that she did not know why God let her save lives.
Not why God let her be raped. Not why she was forced to choose between becoming an old officer's mistress and still being able to protect her Jewish friends or refusing him and having to force them out of their hiding place. She didn't ask why God did not allow her to see her family until 30 years later, after her parents had already died.
When I focus on what is fair, I begin valuing my comfort. When I value my comfort, I forsake the concept of "do right until the stars fall." I cannot hold on to fair and my comfort and still do right no matter the cost, because then I don't want the cost, I don't believe in the cost, the cost is unfair.
And pretty soon, not only have I resisted the sovereignty of God, but my basis of morality becomes shaky as well.
Thank God, He saved me.
As my kids belt out "do right til the stars fall!" with gusto during chapel, my soul is stirred.
Do right. Even if what I have been dealt is too hard. Do right. Even if other people are sinners deserving of God's wrath. Do right. Even if it's just not fair.
So, I'm once again asking God to forgive the sins of the school day, even though I'd rather not think about how I've failed. Because how can He change me unless I admit that I need Him?
So I'm asking God to fight for me and those I love who are being hurt. Because no, it's not fair, and it's not right, but I really can't change people's words and actions. But God is mighty and just and can mete out any consequences He chooses.
And, as always, I'm resigning myself (again) to the thought that my plans, and the plans of the girls around me, to marry (young) and have (large) families, may not be how life happens for us. And that when I'm 86 years old, I will still be singing that He is good.
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
85: why I have to go back to Elohim
Because I can be frustrated with turns of events now, whatever they may be, and blame it on this, that, or the other, and call it unfair.
And I can finally, slowly, reconcile myself to these events.
And I can declare that God had a plan.
But, if I still hold onto this ideal of how things should be
If I say THIS is the way things ought to be and reach for this twinkling star
And keep my focus on that twinkling star as the end all of happiness
SMASH!
Because happy wives can become widows
Arms ready for children can remain bare
Et cetera
Et cetera
Et cetera
And so,
this is why I have to remember to go back to Elohim.
It is all about Jesus.
It is all about His glory.
It is about Elohim sitting on the throne of glory high and lifted up, and the train of His robe filling the temple,
And all around Him cry "Holy! Holy! Holy!"
That is Truth. Reality. Beauty.
That remains constant.
That is the twinkling pinpoint that must always center my vision.
I need the reminder now and tomorrow and next month and six months from now and next year.
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
25: simply bitterness
The Bible says that hope deferred makes the heart sick. Sometimes it can also cause bitterness.
When life doesn't happen as we would have hoped, there are several ways we might deal with the disappointment.
We can let it not phase us, accepting that life is full of ups and downs and so move on (I wonder if those who live in third-world countries accept disappointments easier than us because they've factored sorrow into their reality since birth.).
We can let ourselves fully grieve while leaning into God all the harder, like a wife might lean into her husband for extra strength, and so, hopefully, come out having known sorrow, but healed.
Or we can grieve while allowing cynicism, bitterness, and a general hardness to protect our still vulnerable insides. In such a case, the grieving never really ends, healing never really comes. Sometimes we call women who have been through hard life experiences and come out independent and capable as "strong" women. But every once in awhile their words betray that they have never really recovered and that they are still bitter.
I don't want to be that kind of strong woman. That is one reason why I've been thinking and writing about bitterness a lot lately.
Another reason is that I've seen how the amount of bitterness I have allowed in my own life is hurting my relationship with God and thus affecting how I live my life.
The other reason why I write about bitterness is because I find it fascinating. Bitterness is sneaky. It's easy for us to catch, hard for us to get rid of. We all are susceptible, and I think most live with some amount of bitterness without ever eradicating it, like living with parasites.
And so I'm obsessively combing through my heart, trying to uncover the bitterness, trying to find its source, trying to figure out the antidote.
I think I've found the antidote too. But I'm still trying to figure out how to apply it to my soul.
More on that later, Lord-willing....
When life doesn't happen as we would have hoped, there are several ways we might deal with the disappointment.
We can let it not phase us, accepting that life is full of ups and downs and so move on (I wonder if those who live in third-world countries accept disappointments easier than us because they've factored sorrow into their reality since birth.).
We can let ourselves fully grieve while leaning into God all the harder, like a wife might lean into her husband for extra strength, and so, hopefully, come out having known sorrow, but healed.
Or we can grieve while allowing cynicism, bitterness, and a general hardness to protect our still vulnerable insides. In such a case, the grieving never really ends, healing never really comes. Sometimes we call women who have been through hard life experiences and come out independent and capable as "strong" women. But every once in awhile their words betray that they have never really recovered and that they are still bitter.
I don't want to be that kind of strong woman. That is one reason why I've been thinking and writing about bitterness a lot lately.
Another reason is that I've seen how the amount of bitterness I have allowed in my own life is hurting my relationship with God and thus affecting how I live my life.
The other reason why I write about bitterness is because I find it fascinating. Bitterness is sneaky. It's easy for us to catch, hard for us to get rid of. We all are susceptible, and I think most live with some amount of bitterness without ever eradicating it, like living with parasites.
And so I'm obsessively combing through my heart, trying to uncover the bitterness, trying to find its source, trying to figure out the antidote.
I think I've found the antidote too. But I'm still trying to figure out how to apply it to my soul.
"[T]o be bitter is to let go of trust and faith in God. I cannot simultaneously have an uttermost confidence in Him and be bitter . . . ." --April 7, 2013 journal entry
More on that later, Lord-willing....
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
15: encountering bitterness
It really was only a little offense. I had been in the way of a person and their anger. The frustration wasn't directed at me, but it was vented on me, and although I knew the person hadn't had any ill will towards me, I still felt hurt.
I knew it wasn't a big deal. They weren't even thinking about me when they did it. Like I said, I had just gotten in the way of their anger.
And yet every time I came near the person in the course of the day, I couldn't let it go. There was a silent wedge between us that I knew the other person was not aware of. I wanted to be strong and let it "roll off like water off a duck's back," like my mom used to say, but evening came and I knew when we were forced to interact I would still be holding an offense.
My ideal has long been to be a woman who can forgive and let go. I thought that that would be an amazing quality to have as a wife. To not take offense, to meekly receive wrong, and in divine strength, forgive and not take it to heart.
Why then does the Bible speak so often about going to your brother if he offends you?
But we've all witnessed how bringing up offenses to the offender can cause more chaos, strife, arguing, and more offense than you really want to invite by seeking reconciliation (or maybe, restitution).
If only I could forgive and forget, I wouldn't have to go to my brother!
The problem is today I could not forgive and forget. I could feel that seed of separation--bitterness?--digging into me.
So come evening I went to that person and told them I understood the innocence of the situation but I still felt hurt and I just wanted to get it talked out before it came up later, inopportunely.
You know what? The conversation went great. No escalating emotions, no more offenses. Just the awareness, acknowledgement, and reconciliation I needed.
I do want to grow in strength so that I accept offenses far less. But I think I need to reshape my ideal. Perhaps an ideal wife is not a woman who always lets offenses roll off her, but instead is a woman who knows how to stop, and consistently does stop, the root of bitterness. Whether that means silently, in God's strength, truly forgiving, or, with the same meekness, going to her offender for the purpose of reconciliation.
I knew it wasn't a big deal. They weren't even thinking about me when they did it. Like I said, I had just gotten in the way of their anger.
And yet every time I came near the person in the course of the day, I couldn't let it go. There was a silent wedge between us that I knew the other person was not aware of. I wanted to be strong and let it "roll off like water off a duck's back," like my mom used to say, but evening came and I knew when we were forced to interact I would still be holding an offense.
My ideal has long been to be a woman who can forgive and let go. I thought that that would be an amazing quality to have as a wife. To not take offense, to meekly receive wrong, and in divine strength, forgive and not take it to heart.
Why then does the Bible speak so often about going to your brother if he offends you?
But we've all witnessed how bringing up offenses to the offender can cause more chaos, strife, arguing, and more offense than you really want to invite by seeking reconciliation (or maybe, restitution).
If only I could forgive and forget, I wouldn't have to go to my brother!
The problem is today I could not forgive and forget. I could feel that seed of separation--bitterness?--digging into me.
So come evening I went to that person and told them I understood the innocence of the situation but I still felt hurt and I just wanted to get it talked out before it came up later, inopportunely.
You know what? The conversation went great. No escalating emotions, no more offenses. Just the awareness, acknowledgement, and reconciliation I needed.
I do want to grow in strength so that I accept offenses far less. But I think I need to reshape my ideal. Perhaps an ideal wife is not a woman who always lets offenses roll off her, but instead is a woman who knows how to stop, and consistently does stop, the root of bitterness. Whether that means silently, in God's strength, truly forgiving, or, with the same meekness, going to her offender for the purpose of reconciliation.
Thursday, March 7, 2013
13: of honeymoon phases ending and the temptation to become bitter
Dreamt last night that a friend of mine was looking into getting a divorce. Her and her husband were both flirting with other people. When she began to tell me her story, in my dream, she started it with, "Our honeymoon phase ended 4 months ago." And my response, in my dream, was "It lasted that long?"
I've read a lot about marriage and listened to a lot of podcasts. I know that the first year of marriage can be inconceivably difficult. But it's only the first year. And if you work through things, your marriage will get better over time. So it's okay!
But when I woke up, I thought of someone else I know, in real life, who said the honeymoon ended while they were on their honeymoon. And then I remembered what I was thinking about right before I fell asleep: if on my honeymoon, my husband left the room for some reason and didn't come back for a couple hours (probably triggered from when I watched the Doris Day movie Move Over, Darling, which I wouldn't necessarily recommend by the way). That would be so hard emotionally to get over. Where was he? Did he forget about me? Why did he think it was okay to be gone while I was waiting for him? Was what he was doing really more important than spending time with me on our honeymoon?
Could I forgive and forget?
It's one thing to say the honeymoon phase will end sooner than you expect. It's another thing to barely have a couple days under your belt, if that, and the honeymoon phase dies.
Which reminds me of what I was journaling about the other day. I started my entry thinking about God and me and ended up thinking about the future....
I don't know if I can do that. Is it possible? How do you stop bitterness at the root? Would I be able to forgive my husband if he made a major blunder early on in our marriage? What about the first week? It's one thing to say, oh yes, he'll mess up. It's another to have just committed your life to someone and have them do something immediately that seems to be an ominous portent of things to come.
One of my "nightmares" is realizing right after the marriage ceremony that you married the wrong person.
Conclusion: 1) God save me from marrying in haste without having Your blessing. 2) God, teach me how to stave off bitterness before it takes root.
I've read a lot about marriage and listened to a lot of podcasts. I know that the first year of marriage can be inconceivably difficult. But it's only the first year. And if you work through things, your marriage will get better over time. So it's okay!
But when I woke up, I thought of someone else I know, in real life, who said the honeymoon ended while they were on their honeymoon. And then I remembered what I was thinking about right before I fell asleep: if on my honeymoon, my husband left the room for some reason and didn't come back for a couple hours (probably triggered from when I watched the Doris Day movie Move Over, Darling, which I wouldn't necessarily recommend by the way). That would be so hard emotionally to get over. Where was he? Did he forget about me? Why did he think it was okay to be gone while I was waiting for him? Was what he was doing really more important than spending time with me on our honeymoon?
Could I forgive and forget?
It's one thing to say the honeymoon phase will end sooner than you expect. It's another thing to barely have a couple days under your belt, if that, and the honeymoon phase dies.
Which reminds me of what I was journaling about the other day. I started my entry thinking about God and me and ended up thinking about the future....
"Faithfulness is not endurance with bitterness. Bitterness is an emotional separation. Pure faithfulness is commitment even, hm, in disappointment."
"Lord, when I am married, help me love him so much and trust You so much that I can always be faithful to my spouse without bitterness, even when he annoys, embarasses, and makes bad decisions."
I don't know if I can do that. Is it possible? How do you stop bitterness at the root? Would I be able to forgive my husband if he made a major blunder early on in our marriage? What about the first week? It's one thing to say, oh yes, he'll mess up. It's another to have just committed your life to someone and have them do something immediately that seems to be an ominous portent of things to come.
One of my "nightmares" is realizing right after the marriage ceremony that you married the wrong person.
Conclusion: 1) God save me from marrying in haste without having Your blessing. 2) God, teach me how to stave off bitterness before it takes root.
Friday, February 22, 2013
Monday, February 18, 2013
3 : bitter vs. trust
I never used to deal with bitterness toward God. How can I even type that out?
But I have. At several points, life has taken turns that have either been evil, slashing at hope, or disappointing.
I used to really value God's sovereignty.
Where did I veer off?
And now, coming back to that trust in God's sovereignty--because I really do like trusting His sovereignty--and I like it more than thinking everything's out of control and then blaming Him--coming back to that trust almost feels hypocritcal. Like I should have never let go, and now I've been bitter, and hm...
Maybe this is called repentance.
Forgive me, Lord, for not trusting You.
I've been wrong.
Christianity is a perspective by which we see the whole world, Chuck Colson has been reminding me in How Now Shall We Live. And that's reminded me that I haven't been living like a Christian.
And maybe that's where the phrase "practical atheist--living like God doesn't exist," that I heard twice the other month back to back and wondered where I was doing that, finally finds at least one application.
You can't be bitter and trust God at the same time.
But I have. At several points, life has taken turns that have either been evil, slashing at hope, or disappointing.
I used to really value God's sovereignty.
Where did I veer off?
And now, coming back to that trust in God's sovereignty--because I really do like trusting His sovereignty--and I like it more than thinking everything's out of control and then blaming Him--coming back to that trust almost feels hypocritcal. Like I should have never let go, and now I've been bitter, and hm...
Maybe this is called repentance.
Forgive me, Lord, for not trusting You.
I've been wrong.
Christianity is a perspective by which we see the whole world, Chuck Colson has been reminding me in How Now Shall We Live. And that's reminded me that I haven't been living like a Christian.
And maybe that's where the phrase "practical atheist--living like God doesn't exist," that I heard twice the other month back to back and wondered where I was doing that, finally finds at least one application.
You can't be bitter and trust God at the same time.
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