I wonder if God likes me. Not loves me like the Bible says He does or like the song “Jesus love me this I know”. I mean LIKES me.
Isaiah 49:15 says, “Can a woman forget her nursing child, and have no compassion on the son of her womb? Even these may forget, but I will not forget you.” I vividly remember nursing my babies. It was one of the most tender, loving, bonding times I’ve ever had with them. It was the one time, besides their stay in my womb, that they were attached to me physically for their survival. I remember watching their little mouths work and their sweet lashes resting on their cheeks in blissful contentment. The wonderment and love that swelled through me was tangible.
Is it like that with Him? When He see’s our head bowed, eyes closed, mouths working in our supplications to Him, does He feel that same wonderment? I believe He does. For His great love for us He gave His ONLY son to die for us.
I couldn’t do that. No one hurts my son if I can help it. He is the first light of my life from my life. Flesh of my flesh. Bone of my bone.
Yes, my Abba likes me very much. As a matter of fact, He is very fond of me.
But how does my Abba feel toward those who have wounded His suckling babes?
The same way. Matthew 5:45 says, “…for He makes His sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust.”
Darn it!
What about the wolves who ravage His sheep?
Ditto.
We’re not talking about consequences here…for there are consequences to those who wound or ravage His little ones. I’m talking Love. The same way He loves me.
This one is so hard to swallow, but swallow this medicine I must. For this understanding is the same well that forgiveness feeds from. Tasting like compassion, this medicine becomes forgiveness when we allow it to soak into our spirit and soul.
Soaking takes time.
I have walked this same rocky terrain in my marriage for over 20 years. Even after multiple betrayals, I finally taste a bit of compassion. Forgiveness started its long journey through my soul; but it has so many more places to soak.
So why not wait to divorce? Wait to allow time for forgiveness to have its complete work? Because, unfortunately, it won’t change the behavior that keeps getting me in this mess. That is the understanding I came to the last time this happened 7 years ago; however, I was willing to be willing to stay if certain boundaries were agreed upon and followed. Yes, the little girl finally had the courage to say “no more.”
I’ve discovered even when we give forgiveness a road map through our soul, there are consequences to sin. This is where I am now - dealing with the consequences of another’s choices and sin.
It sucks.
But I am determined to allow the compassion to blossom and forgiveness to have its complete work; regardless of my husband’s change in his behavior. My forgiveness is not based on his behaviors. One of my new favorite quotes is, “The heartfelt compassion that hastens forgiveness matures when we discover where our enemy cries.”*
That is how I forgave my father. The Lord showed me where he cried as a young boy. The Lord is also showing me where my husband’s wounds have opened the door to deceit in varying forms. This doesn’t give him an excuse for the behaviors; but it does give me the door to walk through and offer a precious gift that my Savior modeled as He hung on that cross and looked upon those crucifying him.
I have a long road and a lot of soaking to do!
*Abba’s Child, Brennan Manning, NavPress, 2002.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
I am my Beloved’s
I want to really understand this. That is the cry of my heart these days; along with healing, strength, wisdom and a plethora of other requests. But this one trumps them all. I am my Beloved’s.
I was raised with an alcoholic father who used his “liberties” as the authority figure in my life to tell me I was the sick one for setting boundaries. Then, as an adult, my ex-husband used the spiritual liberties granted him by man’s version of submission. Oh I don’t blame my ex-husband and father. I take full ownership of my crown called co-dependency and my scepter known as enabling. They are mine…temporarily that is until I figure out how to get rid of these pesky things.
But I really, REALLY want to grasp, grapple, press in, and absorb the concept of being His Beloved. I want to understand this as the foundation of my personal worth - not the opinions of man. I am probably my own worst enemy in this mistaken identity. I love what John Eagan said in his journal “We judge ourselves unworthy servants, and that judgment becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. We deem ourselves too inconsiderable to be used by a God capable of miracles with no more than mud and spit. And thus our false humility shackles an otherwise omnipotent God.”2
I am more than mud and spit. I am in His image (I wonder if he has a dimple on his left cheek). Recently, I started defining myself to myself as one radically beloved by God and you know what? I have sensed a “falling in love” with my Jesus. I have truly felt a sense of intimacy with Him that I don’t remember feeling for a real long time.
Some in the church would believe me to be in rebellion; clearly not capable of such a close and intimate walk. That is something reserved only for the submitted and obedient (i.e. not divorced for non-Biblical reasons…whatever that means). I used to be one of those judgmental people. I am definitely reaping what I’ve sown. Ouch.
I’ve always had this sense of disappointing the Lord. Always afraid of what He really thought of me and my many hours of whiling away in an imaginary world. Then I remembered standing unobserved at the door of my children’s room watching them entertain Big Bird or Barney in some great plot or adventure. I would smile, turn, and leave them to their play, perfectly content with the fact that if they needed me or wanted to spend time with me, they would search me out. At which time, I would open my arms wide, envelope them completely, and savor the scent of blessed innocence in my beloved.
Is that how He sees me?
2Abba’s Child, Brennan Manning, NavPress, 2002.
I was raised with an alcoholic father who used his “liberties” as the authority figure in my life to tell me I was the sick one for setting boundaries. Then, as an adult, my ex-husband used the spiritual liberties granted him by man’s version of submission. Oh I don’t blame my ex-husband and father. I take full ownership of my crown called co-dependency and my scepter known as enabling. They are mine…temporarily that is until I figure out how to get rid of these pesky things.
But I really, REALLY want to grasp, grapple, press in, and absorb the concept of being His Beloved. I want to understand this as the foundation of my personal worth - not the opinions of man. I am probably my own worst enemy in this mistaken identity. I love what John Eagan said in his journal “We judge ourselves unworthy servants, and that judgment becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. We deem ourselves too inconsiderable to be used by a God capable of miracles with no more than mud and spit. And thus our false humility shackles an otherwise omnipotent God.”2
I am more than mud and spit. I am in His image (I wonder if he has a dimple on his left cheek). Recently, I started defining myself to myself as one radically beloved by God and you know what? I have sensed a “falling in love” with my Jesus. I have truly felt a sense of intimacy with Him that I don’t remember feeling for a real long time.
Some in the church would believe me to be in rebellion; clearly not capable of such a close and intimate walk. That is something reserved only for the submitted and obedient (i.e. not divorced for non-Biblical reasons…whatever that means). I used to be one of those judgmental people. I am definitely reaping what I’ve sown. Ouch.
I’ve always had this sense of disappointing the Lord. Always afraid of what He really thought of me and my many hours of whiling away in an imaginary world. Then I remembered standing unobserved at the door of my children’s room watching them entertain Big Bird or Barney in some great plot or adventure. I would smile, turn, and leave them to their play, perfectly content with the fact that if they needed me or wanted to spend time with me, they would search me out. At which time, I would open my arms wide, envelope them completely, and savor the scent of blessed innocence in my beloved.
Is that how He sees me?
2Abba’s Child, Brennan Manning, NavPress, 2002.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
The Imposter
I am an imposter. I freely admit it.
How embarrassing.
All these years I’ve thought I was something I was not. I hear your collective gasps. I know, I know. How can this be?
I didn’t realize it until I read the description of an imposter in the book, Abba’s Child.1
An Imposter:
• Is rooted in fear of human disapproval.
• Is afraid of abandonment, losing support, and not able to cope on their own.
• Is preoccupied with acceptance and approval.
• Needs to please others.
• Is often incapable of direct speech, hedging, waffling, and remains silent out of fear of rejection.
• Demands to be noticed and craves compliments. (I don’t care about compliments so much…just hand me a stage and a spotlight).
• Draw their identity from achievements and interpersonal relationships.
• Operates out of a fear-based center.
It explains a lot actually. Manning goes on to say, “The false self was born when as children we were not loved well or were rejected or abandoned.” My imposter was born that fateful day at poolside when demanded to unclothe.
Most of the time, my imposter covered itself/herself by means of chronic day dreaming. Now I’m really confessing my youthful sin. You see, this was my coping device. Like an alcoholic uses alcohol or a drug addict their drug, mine was getting lost in a world no one could see. No one could hurt me there. I created a wonderful place that I was in complete control.
I’m a big girl now (with a little girl still hiding in me) and I still haunt my old hidden world. Only now I try to use it for the good of the writer in me in the form of fiction. So, in a way, I took what the enemy used to keep me bound and I brought it into the light for the Lord to use for His purpose.
I guess you’d say I redeemed it.
Manning also states, “When we accept the truth of what we really are and surrender it to Jesus Christ, we are enveloped in peace, whether or not we feel ourselves to be at peace.” I covet this new world of peace. For decades I’d rebuked myself time and again for running to my trusted vice as if it was an evil sin. But now, I believe it was a gift from the Lord. I actually had a therapist tell me, after hearing my life chronicled in a painful diatribe, that my coping instrument probably kept me out of the looney bin (that is a medical term).
I must embrace this imposter as a part of myself and accept her for the place she held all these years. I think we should make friends with these imposters as they are a part of ourselves. To continually rebuke them is a form of self-hatred. Perhaps titles and imposters do have a place for a season…until we find our true self that is.
1Abba’s Child, Brennan Manning, NavPress, 2002.
How embarrassing.
All these years I’ve thought I was something I was not. I hear your collective gasps. I know, I know. How can this be?
I didn’t realize it until I read the description of an imposter in the book, Abba’s Child.1
An Imposter:
• Is rooted in fear of human disapproval.
• Is afraid of abandonment, losing support, and not able to cope on their own.
• Is preoccupied with acceptance and approval.
• Needs to please others.
• Is often incapable of direct speech, hedging, waffling, and remains silent out of fear of rejection.
• Demands to be noticed and craves compliments. (I don’t care about compliments so much…just hand me a stage and a spotlight).
• Draw their identity from achievements and interpersonal relationships.
• Operates out of a fear-based center.
It explains a lot actually. Manning goes on to say, “The false self was born when as children we were not loved well or were rejected or abandoned.” My imposter was born that fateful day at poolside when demanded to unclothe.
Most of the time, my imposter covered itself/herself by means of chronic day dreaming. Now I’m really confessing my youthful sin. You see, this was my coping device. Like an alcoholic uses alcohol or a drug addict their drug, mine was getting lost in a world no one could see. No one could hurt me there. I created a wonderful place that I was in complete control.
I’m a big girl now (with a little girl still hiding in me) and I still haunt my old hidden world. Only now I try to use it for the good of the writer in me in the form of fiction. So, in a way, I took what the enemy used to keep me bound and I brought it into the light for the Lord to use for His purpose.
I guess you’d say I redeemed it.
Manning also states, “When we accept the truth of what we really are and surrender it to Jesus Christ, we are enveloped in peace, whether or not we feel ourselves to be at peace.” I covet this new world of peace. For decades I’d rebuked myself time and again for running to my trusted vice as if it was an evil sin. But now, I believe it was a gift from the Lord. I actually had a therapist tell me, after hearing my life chronicled in a painful diatribe, that my coping instrument probably kept me out of the looney bin (that is a medical term).
I must embrace this imposter as a part of myself and accept her for the place she held all these years. I think we should make friends with these imposters as they are a part of ourselves. To continually rebuke them is a form of self-hatred. Perhaps titles and imposters do have a place for a season…until we find our true self that is.
1Abba’s Child, Brennan Manning, NavPress, 2002.
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