Three years later I still marvel at the fact that I work for a church. I often wonder if God has experienced a serious lapse in judgement. I do not fit the mold of what one might expect. I am messy and often unfiltered. My life story is more like the woman at the well than what one might expect or even prefer of church staff. I am not steeped in church polity or policy or politics, and most of the time I do not understand the difference between the three.
I have struggle for far more years than I care to count with the idea that Christians are called to some level of perfection that seems unattainable. How do we reconcile the concept of a God who is Love with the idea that He expects us to be perfect and that we might really be "left behind" if we cannot attain it. After all, we have been taught that Jesus, who I totally believe was fully God and fully human said these words "Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect." (Matthew 5:48, NIV) What exactly does someone like me do with that?? I've made some dumb mistakes, survived some poor choices, and I still mess up on the regular. Be PERFECT?? REALLY??
For several years now my answer has been to accept the reality of God as I have experienced Him. His grace has been sufficient in more ways than I can count. I have experienced peace that I do not deserve, and He has come through for me in ways I could never have asked or predicted. My journey has been colorful, yet filled with hope and renewal. I have discovered great joy in embracing the idea that I merely have to be who He created me to be and I have grown increasingly passionate about helping others learn to embrace this same truth, to discover how our gifts and character play into God's story. Really, this has been a result of the journey, of prayer and experience, of learning to recognize God in the daily grind, not from extensive study of scripture.
Currently I am taking a class on the Sermon On The Mount, Jesus famous sermon during which He made that statement. It's a classic Bible story. Many of us heard it in Sunday school and grew up with certain expectations as a result of it. Last week our professor pointed out that in the original Greek text Jesus used the word telios, meaning complete or whole. All I could think was are you kidding me?? All of this time it was "be complete"?? Now I am no great scholar, but this is a real game changer. Be complete. This is a whole different statement in our culture than "be perfect". This is a concept I can get behind. I can wrap my brain around the idea that the One who created me desires to continually work to complete what He started in me. I can invest myself and strive to become all that He made me to be. When I think of how I have experienced God in my own journey and how he is constantly transforming me and how my understanding of Him and His people has grown and evolved, I can embrace the idea of becoming complete.
The truth is that I surrendered the idea of perfection 15 years ago when my first marriage ended. I spent the next several years wrestling with the powerful realization that perfect was impossible and that somehow God has been faithful, regardless. Last week as I embraced this new phrase, be complete, I felt lighter, more confident, even loved, and yet incredibly humbled. I even shared this with others and took notice as their faces changed and even their posture as I spoke the words be complete. So, Be complete, friends. Surrender perfection and embrace the grace that invites you to become all that you were created to be. I want to invite you to find contentment in the process and to rest. Rest and breathe and allow yourself to embrace grace. Be complete friends, as your Father in heaven is complete.
JATC Cover Photo
Friday, October 17, 2014
Friday, October 3, 2014
A Mini-Van, A Buddha Statue, A Box of Ashes, and a WHOLE Lot of Hope
I'll never forget the day that I called the chaplain from Valley Hope as I lay (literally in the fetal position, at the end of my rope) on the floor in the office of my home in tears. "He's drinking again.....I don't know what to do.......*sobbing* All I want is peace....I NEED peace....." The gentle voice on the other end of the line said "Why do you stay? Why have you not divorced him?" Still sobbing I explained that I meant the vows that I said and that I don't believe in divorce and I believed God hated divorce. Again with the gentle voice "Shelly, you are side stepping God's grace". In that moment and the moments to follow the peace that passes all understanding flooded my body, my mind, and my soul as he began to explain to me that this was not what God wants. He told me God loved me and my daughters and that those girls were my first priority, gifts given to me by God. He explained to me that God is merciful and did not condemn me to punishment for the rest of my life at the hands of someone else's choices over which I had no control. I had heard about grace my whole life, and this peace that passes all understanding. I never really grasped what it meant until that day. Suddenly, there it was, real and tangible in a way that I would have never imagined until I FELT IT.
In the months that followed I did file for divorce. I was forced to send John's daughter to her mother in Georgia after raising her for nearly eight years. I did focus on my girls and tried to learn to take care of myself in ways that allowed me to effectively be present for them. Throughout the process of divorce his family kept close contact with me and I kept as much of an eye out for him as I could without compromising the safety and well-being of my daughters (or myself) until they could get him into treatment for a third time. The alcohol nearly killed him at that time, and yet God loved John, too. So by the very same grace, some timely angels from AA were able to get him to the VA hospital where he received medical help, detox assistance, and six months of rehab. Five years later, John died of alcoholism shortly after losing his brother to cancer.
At the time, I was in another relationship and had just given birth to my son. John's role in the girls lives was an occasional phone call. They had only seen him once since our failed attempt to reunite after that six months of treatment. That visit was a mixed bag of blessed time with their dad and some extremely unhealthy circumstances. The relationship I was in was a mess and I was still begging, searching for healing. His death brought relief and deep pain all at the same time, much like when you lose a family member who has suffered a long cancer battle. Alcoholism is equally as evil.
Fast forward to today. I'm remarried to a man who adopted my son and who treats the girls as his own. I have a job I am passionate about. I'm in the process of finally finishing my degree. Both of my daughters are in college and are amazing young adults. Their older sister (John's daughter) has returned to Kansas to make it her home. My son is now 10, and growing strong and healthy. He is blessed to have little knowledge of the turmoil that brought us to this season.
In December we lost John's sister. His last living sibling and my friend and big sister for the last 22 years. As we sat in the priest's office days before the service to celebrate her life, the priest began to ask us to share. She also shared with us that she wanted to speak of hope and resurrection in her sermon. She knew that on the day of Chris's passing she would have been celebrating TWENTY SIX years of sobriety, that Chris has raised Sarah as a single parent, that Chris had loved well and served well (both in AA and in the church, as well as in her vocation). As she told us this, I lost all composure. Of course she should speak of hope and new life! Chris spoke life into many and into some very dark circumstances, including my own. I will forever hear her words "just focus on the next right thing" as I continue to move through my life. I am deeply grateful for her role in my own journey of hope and resurrection.
So, in August, we moved his mom here to Kansas from Arkansas to be close to us. She is a fascinating woman who I was attached to immediately upon meeting her. In the 22 years I've known her, she has lost her parents, her husband, and all three of her children. Yet, she presses on with grace, faith, and dignity. She also is no stranger to finding hope and resurrection in very dark circumstances. It made sense to bring her close so the girls and I can take active part in her life, to be present in everyday life and to be accessible when she needs us. She purchased a lovely home large enough for the rest of her grandchildren to fly in and visit as often as possible. And, I enjoy her friendship and support.
My husband went with me last month to help oversee the movers, load our vehicle and hers, and drive a vehicle back. He was putting the box with her Buddha statue (a beautiful peace of art, not a 'god' in her home) in the back of her mini-van as I was placing John's ashes in the van as well. I laughed and cried as I thought about the craziness of it all. My husband held me and took it all in stride. He is steady and I was so grateful to have him there.
Driving back from Arkansas with a Buddha statue, my deceased ex-husband's ashes in a box, and his mother who I adore and still get to claim as my own, I was reminded yet again that God is much bigger, much stronger, much wiser, and FAR more creative than I could ever possibly wrap my brain around. I was reminded that what my human mind envisioned as proper healing didn't even come close to comparing to the journey that was ahead. For all of the times that I begged God to heal my family fifteen years ago, the truth is...He did. I never could have pictured my life as it is today.
It doesn't look like anyone might have expected. My marriage ended. Another failed relationship happened. There were moments when I could barely float, let alone tread water or keep swimming. And yet there has been tremendous healing, and the healing continues.
I become easily frustrated when I feel as if man made rules and expectations interfere with our ability to see God at work. Our vision is so very limited and His is vast beyond our comprehension. My very colorful, very diverse family is living breathing proof that the Creator of the Universe is STILL creating in us, for us, around us, and through us. We can box the Buddha statue, but we CANNOT box the great I AM.
In the months that followed I did file for divorce. I was forced to send John's daughter to her mother in Georgia after raising her for nearly eight years. I did focus on my girls and tried to learn to take care of myself in ways that allowed me to effectively be present for them. Throughout the process of divorce his family kept close contact with me and I kept as much of an eye out for him as I could without compromising the safety and well-being of my daughters (or myself) until they could get him into treatment for a third time. The alcohol nearly killed him at that time, and yet God loved John, too. So by the very same grace, some timely angels from AA were able to get him to the VA hospital where he received medical help, detox assistance, and six months of rehab. Five years later, John died of alcoholism shortly after losing his brother to cancer.
At the time, I was in another relationship and had just given birth to my son. John's role in the girls lives was an occasional phone call. They had only seen him once since our failed attempt to reunite after that six months of treatment. That visit was a mixed bag of blessed time with their dad and some extremely unhealthy circumstances. The relationship I was in was a mess and I was still begging, searching for healing. His death brought relief and deep pain all at the same time, much like when you lose a family member who has suffered a long cancer battle. Alcoholism is equally as evil.
Fast forward to today. I'm remarried to a man who adopted my son and who treats the girls as his own. I have a job I am passionate about. I'm in the process of finally finishing my degree. Both of my daughters are in college and are amazing young adults. Their older sister (John's daughter) has returned to Kansas to make it her home. My son is now 10, and growing strong and healthy. He is blessed to have little knowledge of the turmoil that brought us to this season.
In December we lost John's sister. His last living sibling and my friend and big sister for the last 22 years. As we sat in the priest's office days before the service to celebrate her life, the priest began to ask us to share. She also shared with us that she wanted to speak of hope and resurrection in her sermon. She knew that on the day of Chris's passing she would have been celebrating TWENTY SIX years of sobriety, that Chris has raised Sarah as a single parent, that Chris had loved well and served well (both in AA and in the church, as well as in her vocation). As she told us this, I lost all composure. Of course she should speak of hope and new life! Chris spoke life into many and into some very dark circumstances, including my own. I will forever hear her words "just focus on the next right thing" as I continue to move through my life. I am deeply grateful for her role in my own journey of hope and resurrection.
So, in August, we moved his mom here to Kansas from Arkansas to be close to us. She is a fascinating woman who I was attached to immediately upon meeting her. In the 22 years I've known her, she has lost her parents, her husband, and all three of her children. Yet, she presses on with grace, faith, and dignity. She also is no stranger to finding hope and resurrection in very dark circumstances. It made sense to bring her close so the girls and I can take active part in her life, to be present in everyday life and to be accessible when she needs us. She purchased a lovely home large enough for the rest of her grandchildren to fly in and visit as often as possible. And, I enjoy her friendship and support.
My husband went with me last month to help oversee the movers, load our vehicle and hers, and drive a vehicle back. He was putting the box with her Buddha statue (a beautiful peace of art, not a 'god' in her home) in the back of her mini-van as I was placing John's ashes in the van as well. I laughed and cried as I thought about the craziness of it all. My husband held me and took it all in stride. He is steady and I was so grateful to have him there.
Driving back from Arkansas with a Buddha statue, my deceased ex-husband's ashes in a box, and his mother who I adore and still get to claim as my own, I was reminded yet again that God is much bigger, much stronger, much wiser, and FAR more creative than I could ever possibly wrap my brain around. I was reminded that what my human mind envisioned as proper healing didn't even come close to comparing to the journey that was ahead. For all of the times that I begged God to heal my family fifteen years ago, the truth is...He did. I never could have pictured my life as it is today.
It doesn't look like anyone might have expected. My marriage ended. Another failed relationship happened. There were moments when I could barely float, let alone tread water or keep swimming. And yet there has been tremendous healing, and the healing continues.
I become easily frustrated when I feel as if man made rules and expectations interfere with our ability to see God at work. Our vision is so very limited and His is vast beyond our comprehension. My very colorful, very diverse family is living breathing proof that the Creator of the Universe is STILL creating in us, for us, around us, and through us. We can box the Buddha statue, but we CANNOT box the great I AM.
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