Whose Eyes do You Use?

There are so many things we grieve without realizing we are grieving. Maybe that is why my grief went undetected for so long. The next cavern the Lord brought to light took me by surprise, yet it really was at the core of so much self-perception. It was time to flush out the stale grieving of my self-worth.

Truth be told, this has taken me months to work through and the Lord and I just recently finished this “therapy session.”

As with all good co-dependents, self-worth is intrinsically knitted to how others see and treat us. It is connected to how we feel honored/dishonored or valued/devalued by others. True to my own humanity, I superimposed these things onto how I thought God saw me.

No wonder I was so messed up!

Humans make conscious decisions every day to honor or dishonor through word or action and when we superimpose other’s actions onto our very loving Heavenly Father, it grieves His heart. In reality, all of us start as broken pieces trying to find where we fit. Broken pieces cannot give complete, accurate composites of anything! Even in the light of Christ’s sacrifice on the cross, my myopic view of my self-worth was just as fractured and broken as the people whose eyes I was looking through.

This was not going to heal until I got my eyes off man and my eyes focused on HIS view of me. During all the years I’ve spent in prayer and worship, I always pictured myself leaning on Jesus’ chest for a hug or crawling onto my Abba’s lap. I never, NEVER looked into the eyes of my Jesus within my heart-imagination. 

Perhaps I was afraid because I thought I would see my mother’s perfectionism, or my dad’s alcohol-laden stare. Yet, how could I know how Jesus sees me…really SEES me, unless I look into His eyes and see His love for me reflected there. It took courage, why, I still am not sure. Perhaps it is because you truly share heart-intimacy when you look upon your love’s countenance when they gaze into your eyes.

But I chose that day to look upon His face. And it changed my life forever.

Common Ground with Charlie Brown, Part II

So how do you get over not trusting a perfect heavenly Daddy? Great question. For me, this is a constant work in progress; but from what I have gleaned with my time with Him so far, it is much the same as with any transformation of the heart.

• Repent and share your trust issue with Him. You aren’t telling Him something He doesn’t already know…that part is for your benefit.
• Spend time with Him. Delight yourself in the Lord. This is a discipline that reaps hope and, in time, trust.
• Take your time in His Word. His promises are true even if you don’t see the fruit just yet.
• Remind yourself of all His blessings and seasons you have seen and tasted His goodness and safety. It’s interesting that we have a short memory when it comes to His blessings, yet our memory of lost dreams is vivid and unhindered.
• Remind yourself that what you perceive as lost dreams and hopes, are really the foundation for the future dreams and hopes. Think of Joseph in Genesis 37. 

I wish I could say I instantly started handing the Lord my football with hand-clapping glee. That is my goal. As of this writing, I hand Him my football with obedience, humility, and yes, a watchful eye.

There is grace for human frailty, hallelujah!

“But as for me, I (choose to) trust in you, Oh Lord.

I say, You are my God. My times (footballs) are in your hand.” Ps. 31:14-15

Common Ground with Charlie Brown, Part I

You know that feeling when you need to undo a zipper and you can’t reach it? Twisting, turning,

pretzeling your arms isn’t producing the desired result. That’s what this piece of grave clothing felt like. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it to take it off. I couldn’t even find the words in prayer to point to.

I knew there was something else buried, I just couldn’t make it out in the cavernous reaches of my soul. I went through my mental check list of things I’d grieved through but maybe didn’t finish. One by one my fingers tapped on an invisible memory. Nope…it wasn’t connecting.

Then, the Holy Spirit gave me a mental picture of Charlie Brown and Lucy and the infamous football gag. I laughed thinking, “The Lord uses Peanuts to get His point across. This is new revelation.” Then the meaning of the mental cartoon took my breath away.

I didn’t trust Him.

HIM! The maker of the universe, King of all Kings, my Abba, my Beloved.

I didn’t trust HIM.

He showed me that in all the moments of grieving lost dreams - after I had forgiven all others connected to the loss - I still superimposed HIS countenance on Lucy and I was Charlie Brown. My hopes and dreams didn’t feel safe in His hands anymore. Somewhere in this deep cavern a little girl expected her Daddy to protect her dreams and destiny from death. She expected Daddy to protect her castle on a hill.

When the castle burned to the ground, she never fully grieved the loss of perfect trust in a perfect Daddy.

When dreams and hopes are pulled away as you race to launch them and you fall on your back looking at the sky, you stop trusting the one holding the promises.

And on a REALLY bad day a bird flies overhead and poops on you.

“And those who know your name will put their trust in You; 

For you, Oh Lord, have not forsaken those who seek you.” Ps 9:10

The Wilderness, the Red Shirt, and the Cave

Here’s a riddle: What do the wilderness, a red shirt, and a cave have in common?

At first glance very little; however, to a wilderness wanderer, quite a bit.

After spending 18 years drifting in a spiritual and emotional desert, I found a lovely cave to nest in. Dark, warm, and safe, my emotional and spiritual cave became a recovery zone of sorts. It gave me a beautiful solitude and territorial solidarity to serve as my rehab center. Safe from prying eyes and probing legalistic religiosity, I learned of and leaned into a deep, precious sense of the unmerited, unwavering grace of my Abba.

But even rehab needs to end. Most people are anxious to get out of rehab. I guess I’m not most people. I knew what awaited me outside – more dusty, erred wilderness. Yet in His infinite wisdom my Lord knew what would get me back on the road out of my wasteland.

Forgiving Him.

I have been in the church long enough to have been the perpetrator and the victim of someone Bible thumping the message of forgiveness:

“”If you don’t…God won’t forgive you.”

“If you don’t…you could lose your salvation.”

“If you don’t…”

But even though the Lord knew I needed to forgive Him for, in my mind, abandoning me, do you know how He handled it?

He waited with open arms.

He didn’t thump His Word. He didn’t point a finger. He didn’t lament with stern expressions. He waited with open arms. And so a few weeks ago, I ran into His arms with abandon and found myself on the very short path out of my wasteland.

In football there is a term known as a “red shirt.” Players that wore the red shirt were a part of the team; however, due to injury or illness, were forced to sit out during convalescing. The red shirt was a sign to others that this player is still a valued member of the team; however, they needed to be out a season to heal.

After guiding me out of the wilderness, the Lord handed me back my team jersey, lovingly slapped me on the back, and put me back in the game.

The "C" Word

My new friend, the childlike part of me, had a serious jolt today by that dreaded word “Cancer” invading my safe place. The mother that brought me forth, gave me life, nurtured, cuddled, and kissed away ouchies has bladder cancer. What a horrible word. It is treatable, thank the Lord, but it is scary nonetheless and makes me realize how fragile these gifts, parents, are to us.

The newly-found child within me wanted to run from these new shadows imprinted on my walls. Not now, Lord. Not now when I so desperately need her nurturing, cuddles, and to kiss away my new ouchies.

As I helped her with her catheters and showering I was seized by shifting circumstances. Just 40+ years ago she was doing much the same for me (minus the catheter). Being this intimate with my mother brings such a vulnerability to our relationship. There is a sweet sadness to it, if that makes sense.

I am catapulted back to my insecurities as a little one in this house. Fear of abandonment was a big thing with me. Don’t know why, really. My mom was a stay-at-home mom while dad was a hero fighting fires. I remember having nightmares of my mom leaving me in a car in a parking lot and having large statues (one looked remarkably like the Statue of Liberty) fall on the car. It was a recurring dream and I’ve never discovered its significance. I always attributed it to the usual childhood fears.

That same fear whispered in my ear today - abandonment. Just when I need my mom most. Am I really this narcissistic? My mother is battling cancer and I’m worried about being abandoned. The adult in me knows that she has a 70% chance of beating this…a good odd in today’s cancer percentages. But the child in me sees her locking me in the car, walking away, and statues falling in slow motion.

I was hoping to connect with the Dana-child that danced endlessly and sang at the top of her voice putting on shows for anyone willing to sit in the same room. Not this Dana-child. I wanted to find the Dana-child that was completely soaked in her emotions, giving in to them at will. Not the teen-adult Dana that was told her feelings and perceptions about abuse were wrong and sick.

In Brennan Manning’s book, Abba’s Child (is anyone tired of me quoting this new favorite toy?) said, “To ignore, repress, or dismiss our feelings is to fail to listen to the stirrings of the Spirit within our emotional life. The Son of Man did not scorn or reject feelings as fickle and unreliable. They were sensitive emotional antennae to which He listened carefully and through which He perceived the will of His Father for congruent speech and action.”

What a concept!! To actually stop an abuser in their assault before any damage is done. To tell a husband early on that stealing is wrong and lying is an abomination to a marriage. To stomp one’s adult-foot and say “Get out” if sin is a continual threat to the family.

If I had grasped this 35+ years ago until now I wonder how different I’d be.

I wonder where I’d be.

I read somewhere that if a brook did not have rocks in it the water would lose its song.

I guess that just means that this child within and the adult without have a lot of singing to do!

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.