Compassion and Mercy Can be ashes of Sacrifice

My one constant prayer during this journey is, “Jesus, help me see Truth in all this.” That is a big prayer. I guess I didn’t say which truth, did I. In His infinite grace and faithfulness, He uncovered truth in my marriage, and to my surprise…truth in me.

I truly want to understand where my enemy weeps. Perhaps that will help me understand why the “enemy” chooses to wound.

Will that change his character?

No.

Will it change my decision?

No.

My understanding and planting seeds of compassion and mercy doesn’t change my enemy; however it does change me.

Whatever happened to compassion and mercy in the church? Oh we have plenty for the world, but what of it amongst ourselves? When does the “Pharisee” malignancy start? Perhaps it is a form of religious dementia. We forget where we came from and the pit He pulled us out of.

Most pastoral counseling I received on this journey has been “Be submitted and obedient. God blesses these.” The other very annoying counsel was, “Sometimes marriage is just a sacrifice.” I sacrificed and died to my flesh more times than I can count. Did it change my marriage? I’m not real sure. I know it changed me. I know that one day, if God wills, I remarry, I will be a much better wife and life partner because I’ve learned from this.

Marriage is a road riddled with sacrifice – kind of like a well-traveled highway. Some sacrifices are small and barely noticeable in the matrimonial pavement; like giving a kind word instead of a snide remark, or ignoring a criticism knowing your spouse is under stress. Other sacrifices are potholes so big we lose ourselves, like in an affair, financial infidelity, or abandonment.

No matter how big or small, all sacrifices have one thing in common. Something has to die. By bonfire or a knife in the heart, death is the main ingredient.

Visiting Haunted Places

In the middle of this pilgrimage, I find myself in my childhood home to care for my mother after surgery. Soon the worry of her health and the logistics of appointments recede and I am sitting in my room as a different person than the woman that left to go on her honeymoon. Oh it isn’t the last time I found myself in her home; but it is the last time since I was stepping out to a new beginning.

Here I am again. Only this time instead of hope, excitement, and dreams of white picket fences, I’m scared, lonely, and wondering if I’m going to spend the rest of my life crammed into two rooms.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. I am often haunted by the proverbial “What If’s” that all us humans wrestle with. What if I’d taken that job and moved? What if I’d said ‘yes’ my first love? What if I hadn’t married my husband? You know the ones. Those deep, thought-provoking questions that do nothing but haunt us like the shadows on the walls during the night when we were children. There is no real harm in them per say except the images that spring to mind and wrap us in a vice-like grip keep us from drifting to sleep…or keep us from moving forward in life.

I sat with my daughter tonight looking through old photo albums when I was her age. Ahh, now there is a part of the young woman I misplaced. Except this one had a few secret pains as well, but there was more of the little girl present back then. Now, the little girl is a shadow-thought. Kind of like the shadows on the wall of my room as a child.

It is so like the Lord to bring me here during this season. God is good and even has a sense of humor! I’ve caught glimpses of the shadow-child on the walls just before I sleep. The difference between then and now is that I’m not afraid of them. I welcome them.