GOD WITH US

This was a long week. It was pleasant and enjoyable and I even got to do some fun things I've never done before, but, Man!, was I glad when Friday afternoon finally rolled around!

Have you ever had one of those days - or a string of days - when you are so tired that the best you can do is to just focus on putting one foot in front of the other while hoping that you won't wipe out before you get a break?

I think such periods are par for life in a fallen world, but, even though they are to be expected, I still find that sometimes, I just get too tired and I lose that far-horizon focus and I stumble and fall flat on my face - emotionally if not physically, and sometimes both!

Yesterday was one of those days.

I plodded along pretty steadily until dinner time, but then I tripped and my emotions got all on top me.

After a week on the road, first to New Mexico and then to Middle Tennessee, Steve was finally on his way home. He thought he'd be back here at Kendallville at 6:30 - which meant he would be home for dinner!

I opted not to make the curry-chickpea soup recipe I wanted to try out (Steve isn't big on curry or chickpeas), and decided instead to fix a meal I knew he would really like:  fried chicken, homemade macaroni-&-cheese, green beans, and cooked apples. It was a bit more work to prepare than soup, but a traditional home-cooked meal seemed appropriate after such a long, exhausting week.

Dinner was delicious, well worth the extra time and effort to prepare.

Unfortunately, Steve didn't make it home by 6:30. He was understandably disappointed, even though we all sat at the table with him while he ate and listened to his account of his week's travels.

For some reason, despite the fact that I have absolutely no control over Steve's schedule, I always feel like just-missed-dinner-again is my fault, like my having dinner ready at a particular time is perceived as a jab. And so I turned Steve's disappointment into my own disappointment, and my own mood began to droop.

Then, Steve told me how he had eaten almost exactly the same thing for lunch that day:  fried chicken, macaroni-&-cheese, green beans...

And my mood drooped even further.

Then I found out that I hadn't ironed the right shirt the night before - he wanted the aqua shirt, not the teal one - and it made me mad because I don't even DO ironing, and I had honestly thought as I stood ironing three different shirts late Thursday night (hoping one would be the right one) - I had honestly thought that I was grateful to be serving, glad to be helping out, thankful that I could do something to make some small part of his crazy week easier - I was having all these warm fuzzy housewifely feelings - but when I learned I had ironed the wrong shirt - three wrong shirts - I didn't really feel thankful at all.

I just felt tired and angry and humiliated and like with having dinner ready at not-the-right-time-after-all, and cooking exactly-what-I-had-for-lunch, and ironing not-the-aqua-shirt...well, I just felt like everything I did was all wrong and there was no way on earth to make any of it right.

I felt like my heart had caved in, like I couldn't even breathe any more. When I'm very tired, small disappointments feel like shadows of Mordor. I stumbled through the rest of the evening, and finally decided the best thing to do would be to go to bed.

Lying in bed, physically and emotionally exhausted and feeling sorry for myself, I met the very same God I wrote about yesterday morning. Still wide awake, still right there, still waiting for me to pour out my heart. So I cried and snotted and told Him how sometimes it felt like I couldn't do anything right...

But as I poured out my weary heart, I got to thinking - The God of the universe was right there with me, waiting and listening (again!), and He already knew everything I had gotten wrong (and all the things I'd gotten wrong but thought I'd gotten right) - He knew all of that even before I crawled into bed and started blubbering and yet He was still right there, waiting to meet me.

And, yet again, I was totally blown away by His faithfulness.

I really wanted to have a full-blown, pillow-soaking pity party when I went to bed last night - I really and truly did - but lying there thinking about the faithfulness of God, I somehow got distracted.

"I'm a disaster!" God was still right there. "I can't fix this!" He was still right there. "My feelings are hurt!" He was still right there.

I was trying to recite all my failures and all the ways I had been offended and all the reasons this faith thing was just too hard and not working, but in spite of whatever gloomy thought I could muster, I just kept coming back over and over again to the rock-solid assurance: "I AM STILL RIGHT HERE."

Trying to sort through all the weariness and self-pity and hurt, I kept coming face-to-face with the patience and kindness and faithfulness of my loving heavenly Father.

Such a Big Love. (See what manner of love the Father has given unto us....!)

A Big Love, and a Smiling Countenance. A loving Father who wipes away every tear, and who replaces sorrow with a deep, deep peace. A Father who never slumbers himself, but who "gives his beloved sleep."

This.

God.

Is.

So.

Good.

I will turn their mourning into joy; I will comfort them, and give them gladness for sorrow. - Jeremiah 31:13

GLADNESS FOR SORROW

This was a long week. It was pleasant and enjoyable and I even got to do some fun things I've never done before, but, Man!, was I glad when Friday afternoon finally rolled around!

Have you ever had one of those days - or a string of days - when you are so tired that the best you can do is to just focus on putting one foot in front of the other while hoping that you won't wipe out before you get a break?

I think such periods are par for life in a fallen world, but, even though they are to be expected, I still find that sometimes, I just get too tired and I lose that far-horizon focus and I stumble and fall flat on my face - emotionally if not physically, and sometimes both!

Yesterday was one of those days.

I plodded along pretty steadily until dinner time, but then I tripped and my emotions got all on top me.

After a week on the road, first to New Mexico and then to Middle Tennessee, Steve was finally on his way home. He thought he'd be back here at Kendallville at 6:30 - which meant he would be home for dinner!

I opted not to make the curry-chickpea soup recipe I wanted to try out (Steve isn't big on curry or chickpeas), and decided instead to fix a meal I knew he would really like:  fried chicken, homemade macaroni-&-cheese, green beans, and cooked apples. It was a bit more work to prepare than soup, but a traditional home-cooked meal seemed appropriate after such a long, exhausting week.

Dinner was delicious, well worth the extra time and effort to prepare.

Unfortunately, Steve didn't make it home by 6:30. He was understandably disappointed, even though we all sat at the table with him while he ate and listened to his account of his week's travels.

For some reason, despite the fact that I have absolutely no control over Steve's schedule, I always feel like just-missed-dinner-again is my fault, like my having dinner ready at a particular time is perceived as a jab. And so I turned Steve's disappointment into my own disappointment, and my own mood began to droop.

Then, Steve told me how he had eaten almost exactly the same thing for lunch that day:  fried chicken, macaroni-&-cheese, green beans...

And my mood drooped even further.

Then I found out that I hadn't ironed the right shirt the night before - he wanted the aqua shirt, not the teal one - and it made me mad because I don't even DO ironing, and I had honestly thought as I stood ironing three different shirts late Thursday night (hoping one would be the right one) - I had honestly thought that I was grateful to be serving, glad to be helping out, thankful that I could do something to make some small part of his crazy week easier - I was having all these warm fuzzy housewifely feelings - but when I learned I had ironed the wrong shirt - three wrong shirts - I didn't really feel thankful at all.

I just felt tired and angry and humiliated and like with having dinner ready at not-the-right-time-after-all, and cooking exactly-what-I-had-for-lunch, and ironing not-the-aqua-shirt...well, I just felt like everything I did was all wrong and there was no way on earth to make any of it right.

I felt like my heart had caved in, like I couldn't even breathe any more. When I'm very tired, small disappointments feel like shadows of Mordor. I stumbled through the rest of the evening, and finally decided the best thing to do would be to go to bed.

Lying in bed, physically and emotionally exhausted and feeling sorry for myself, I met the very same God I wrote about yesterday morning. Still wide awake, still right there, still waiting for me to pour out my heart. So I cried and snotted and told Him how sometimes it felt like I couldn't do anything right...

But as I poured out my weary heart, I got to thinking - The God of the universe was right there with me, waiting and listening (again!), and He already knew everything I had gotten wrong (and all the things I'd gotten wrong but thought I'd gotten right) - He knew all of that even before I crawled into bed and started blubbering and yet He was still right there, waiting to meet me.

And, yet again, I was totally blown away by His faithfulness.

I really wanted to have a full-blown, pillow-soaking pity party when I went to bed last night - I really and truly did - but lying there thinking about the faithfulness of God, I somehow got distracted.

"I'm a disaster!" God was still right there. "I can't fix this!" He was still right there. "My feelings are hurt!" He was still right there.

I was trying to recite all my failures and all the ways I had been offended and all the reasons this faith thing was just too hard and not working, but in spite of whatever gloomy thought I could muster, I just kept coming back over and over again to the rock-solid assurance: "I AM STILL RIGHT HERE."

Trying to sort through all the weariness and self-pity and hurt, I kept coming face-to-face with the patience and kindness and faithfulness of my loving heavenly Father.

Such a Big Love. (See what manner of love the Father has given unto us....!)

A Big Love, and a Smiling Countenance. A loving Father who wipes away every tear, and who replaces sorrow with a deep, deep peace. A Father who never slumbers himself, but who "gives his beloved sleep."

This.
God.
Is.
So.
Good.

I will turn their mourning into joy; I will comfort them, and give them gladness for sorrow. - Jeremiah 31:13

NOW I LAY ME DOWN TO SLEEP

As I am prone to do at this 50-something, menopausal stage of my life, I awoke in the wee hours of the morning one day this week and simply could not go back to sleep. This happens so frequently now that I have made wee-morning my regular time to pray for my children and for my church family. This particular morning, however, my mind turned to other things...

For some reason, as I lay awake in the darkness, memories of other times when I had lain awake in bed, praying, came to mind. Memories I hadn't visited in ages.

I recalled one of my most comforting childhood memories:  that of being tucked into bed at night by my dad or my mom.

Tired at the end of a long day of work or play, full from a good dinner and freshly bathed, I would climb into bed and burrow under the blankets. Dad would flip off the lights and come sit on the end of the bed, smelling deliciously of coffee and cigarette smoke and perhaps cowness or tractor exhaust or, if he had eaten lunch at Olympia that day, of garlic. We would talk a little bit, and then he would tell me it was time to say my bedtime prayers.

"Now I lay me down to sleep..."

I would pray, and then sometimes he would pray, too. That very simple children's prayer worked like a magic incantation, ushering me from wakefulness to the drowsy shadowland of almost-asleep.

"Amen." "Goodnight." "G'night."

I can't think of anything more comforting than slipping off to sleep with my last conscious thought being that my Father was right there with me.

* * *

And another memory came to mind...

I was a teenager, and my bed at the time was a fold-out couch in the dining room - the dining room, because it was a room the family didn't use every day and therefore had less traffic. (I am not sure, but I think maybe my regular room and bed had been given to a relative or guest who staying with us for an extended period.) At any rate, I often read my Bible in bed at the end of the day and would leave it on the arm of the couch when I turned out the lights.

Mom and Dad no longer came to tuck me in and say bedtime prayers - I was too big for that - but my heavenly Father still met with me to talk and pray before ushering me off to sleep. Sometimes, I would wake up in the middle of the night, worried about an upcoming test at school or frightened by a bad dream, and I would feel around in the dark until I found my Bible. Pulling it close to me in bed, I would be comforted knowing that Yes, God was still close, still keeping watch.

I didn't think that small black leather-bound book was a magic charm or some kind of lucky amulet; no, it was a physical reminder - something I could touch with my hands - of the invisible presence of God.

"I pray the Lord my soul to keep..."

* * *

As I lay awake that morning earlier this week, remembering these scenes from my youth, it struck me that night after night, year after year, for as long as I can remember, God has faithfully met me in the gray twilight before sleep, and in the scary darkness of my fears and anxieties, and now, in the wee-morning wakefulness of middle-age.

Every night when I burrow under the blankets, He is there and waiting to talk. When I wake up and the sky is black and the stars are as bright as ice, He is still there, awake and listening and waiting to talk.

For over fifty years - how many nights of sleep? how many nights of sleeplessness? - God has been awake and present and listening and ready to meet with me.

A passage from Psalm 121 also came to mind in the wee-dark hours that particular morning:   "...he who keeps you will not slumber. Behold, he who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep. The LORD is your keeper..." As I recalled those memories from my childhood and considered these verses from Psalms, I was brought to tears, overwhelmed by the incredible faithfulness of God.

Fifty+ years of nights for me, and He has never slumbered, never slept.

Every single night, my Father is awake, still watching, still protecting, still listening, still comforting.

All through the night.

SONSHINE TEA ROOM

Good news if you are visiting Troy, Tennessee, at lunchtime:  Sonshine Tea Room, operated by Nancy Johnson, is now open and serving up lots of deliciousness! Located on the square in downtown Troy, Sonshine Tea Room serves lunch Monday through Saturday from 11:00 a.m. - 2:00 p.m. For an afternoon treat, guests can order desserts and beverages until 3:00 p.m. (UPDATE: Sonshine Tea Room is now serving dinner from 5:00-8:00 on Friday and Saturday evenings. Evening menu includes grilled steaks, pork, and chicken. For more details, click on the link at the bottom of this post!)

The Sonshine Tea Room, located on the square in Troy, Tennessee

The menu is simple:  sandwiches, salads, soups, and a special of the day. All sandwiches are handmade and served on freshly baked bread, and they come with a side order of  homemade french fries, tater tots, sweet potato fries, or sweet potato tots.

When I visited Sonshine Tea Room last week, I enjoyed a turkey club with avocado spread, served with sweet potato fries. The sandwich was layered generously with sliced turkey, Swiss cheese, crisp bacon, and a creamy avocado spread, and was served toasted on a hearty white bread. Yes, I ate the whole thing. I was so stuffed after lunch that I had to go walk a couple of laps around Troy Trojan Park before I felt like I had room to breathe!

In addition to other specialty sandwiches, the Sonshine Tea Room offers hamburgers, cheeseburgers, and their famous "man sandwich," created by Nancy's husband Ronnie - the Grilled Cheese Burger (two juicy, hand-patted burgers served between two grilled cheese sandwiches).

One of the bright and cheerful dining rooms at Sonshine Tea Room

The daily special varies. Past lunch specials have included spaghetti, chicken and rice casserole, poppy seed chicken, meatloaf, and grilled chicken served on a bed of fresh salad greens. Beverage options include sweet and unsweetened iced tea, fruit tea, lemonade, a variety of hot teas, coffee, and water.

My favorite part of the meal, however, was definitely dessert. I ordered a hot apple dumpling. My, oh, my! Talk about some flaky, buttery, melt-in-your-mouth apple goodness! Other dessert options (which also vary from day-to-day) include sweets such as chocolate cobbler, fresh apple cake, and strawberry cake, prepared from scratch each day.

On my visit, the waitress was super friendly and eager to please and the service was quick. Menu prices for meals run from $9.95 to $13.95; drinks are $2.00 (free refills); and the delicious homemade desserts are $3.00. Guests are welcomed to eat in, or you can call your order in ahead if you prefer take-out. Also, Sonshine Tea Room can be booked for events such as rehearsal dinners, birthday parties, and meetings.

I'm already in the mood for another hot apple dumpling and a cup of coffee, and with fall in the air, Sonshine Tea Room's front porch would be a great place to people watch and check out the activity in downtown Troy!

To check out the special of the day, view a menu, or get driving directions, visit Sonshine Tea Room's Facebook page by clicking HERE.

STILL RIGHT HERE

I was talking to my daughter about how, at various times in my life, it has been different aspects of the character of God that have particularly encouraged me.

God's sovereignty, his goodness, his wisdom, his unfailing love...all of these give me a tremendous sense of assurance, security, comfort, and hope.

But lately, I have been dwelling on God's faithfulness. Overwhelmed by his faithfulness.

A friend wrote recently about how we often create images - idols, actually - of who we think we are, of who we think others should think we are. And he wrote of the sweetness of being loved by someone who saw through his self-deception and loved him in spite of the ugliness underneath. Someone who loved him, and continued loving him as time peeled back the layers of deceit to reveal the truth. Someone whose love had a transforming effect on him. Someone who desired good for him, whose love pushed through his pride and bitterness until it found kindness and tenderness.

My friend went on to write:  "But much, much more than that, I have been loved by Christ who for some unexplained and deeply mysterious reason, set His heart on me. And so the me I have imagined and loved and gloried in, must become what He has imagined, desired, and ordained."

(You can read my friend's entire post HERE - it is short and worth your time to read.)

So, back to the faithfulness of God. I was out walking this morning, and I was thinking about the faithfulness of God, and about how God is just ALWAYS HERE. He never leaves. Never, ever, ever.

I mess up - terribly. I sin - again and again and again. I think wrong thoughts and say wrong words and act wrong actions - and in the worst of it, God is always just RIGHT HERE. And when my storm of anger or bitterness or stupidity or rebellion or self-pity or ignorance or whatever finally passes, He is STILL RIGHT HERE.

He never leaves.

He never forsakes me.

He never throws smack back at me.

He never ceases to consistently, tenderly, compassionately love me.

God is like an immovable mountain, calmly weathering my every storm without being the slightest bit shaken.

In a world were even the most intimate relationships are routinely violated and frequently dissolved, where friendships and families and marriages are more often forsaken than not, God's faithfulness absolutely blows me away.

There is no one on planet Earth that I could ever offend MORE than I have offended my holy, righteous, sovereign Lord. And yet there is no one on planet Earth who loves me more faithfully.

So, I was talking to my daughter about how I have been recently so overwhelmed with this sense of God's faithfulness. And I got to thinking - this is what I am called to do, too. This is how I am called to love, too. I am His daughter, and I am supposed to be being transformed so that I look more and more each day like my Father. So that I reflect His character and His holiness. As my friend put it, I must become more and more each day "what He [God] has imagined, desired, and ordained."

This should be true of me - individually - and it should be true of the body of Christ, the church. I often ask myself, "What makes the church unique, different from any other organization or group of people?" Well, I think this kind of stalwart faithfulness is one way we are different. We don't always agree. We sin against one another. We think wrong thoughts and we say wrong words and we act wrong actions...

...and this is where the world says, "Forget it! I'm outta here," or where it stomps off into a corner to sulk and nurse its wounded pride...

(but we are not the world)

...and through all the joy and tears and comfort and offense and the mess of living in close relationship, when the storms pass and the sky clears, we - the church - open our eyes and look around and find that...

(hopefully!)

...we are STILL RIGHT HERE.

Because we are God's,

And God is faithful.

CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM IN THE BODY OF CHRIST

We have recently begun a study through Ezra and Nehemiah at Grace on Wednesday nights. So far, it has been awesome - I'm enjoying this study even more than the Sunday morning series through Hebrews, which is saying a lot.

Last Wednesday, Brother Billy covered Ezra 4:1-24. In the application part of his sermon, he asked this question:  "What affect does my 'constructive criticism' have on the people to whom I am giving it? Am I helping, or am I only discouraging?"

Good question.

But how can I know if my words are helping or discouraging? How can I know the effect of my words on the people to whom they are spoken?

How about body language - does the person's countenance drop? Is my input received with downcast eyes, or silence, or drooping shoulders, or a sigh? Do I find the person avoids being alone in a room with me, because they are afraid I may offer yet more criticism? When I see the person later and greet them, do they respond curtly and rush to terminate the interaction? Do they avoid eye contact?

The kids and I were talking about all of this after the Wednesday night message, and we concluded that while it is necessary to sometimes offer criticism, we (whoever is offering the criticism) have a responsibility to know the person to whom the criticism is directed, and to know how to communicate that criticism in a way that they can receive it in a way that is positive and constructive - we must endeavor to communicate in the other person's language, so to speak.

If we haven't taken the time to know the person - to invest effort in knowing how they think and feel, their personal history, their current struggles, etc. - then we probably don't need to be offering any "constructive criticism" in the first place.

Our ladies' group at Grace is currently doing a study of Proverbs, and this month's topic is wise speech - speaking words that are thoughtful, timely and true. Concerning the business of offering correction (or, as Brother Billy put it, constructive criticism), the writer of our study guide makes some very important points.

A word of correction is more likely to be received if the giver and receiver have an established relationship of trust. Am I open and honest about my own sin with the other person? If I'm not, why do I feel entitled to address their sin? If I am reluctant to confess my own sin, then I don't need to be quick to confess the sin of someone else.

A word of correction is more likely to be received if the giver has sought permission to present it. Asking permission to share an observation with the other person puts you in a place of humility. It indicates that your desire is to serve the other person, not to nail them or to strong-arm your agenda. Your intention is not to run over your brother, cramming your "insight" or correction down his throat.

A word of correction is more likely to be received if it has been asked for. Okay, I know what you're thinking:  who on earth is going to step forward and ask you to correct them or offer constructive criticism?! Well, I'll tell you who - the same person that you approached earlier and asked to give you correction or criticism, if you received their input graciously and appreciatively, that is, instead of with defensiveness or anger. As the author of our study puts it, "This [asking others to speak to your own weaknesses] is the best open door [for constructive criticism] of all." Before you approach your brother or sister in Christ to tell them what you think they need to correct in their own lives, first go to them and ask them to share with you the areas they see in your own life that need attention.

I know some crusty types who would read the above exhortations from Anthony Selvaggio (the author of our Proverbs study) and respond, "That's stupid! People just need to toughen up. Get thicker skin! If they can't handle my criticism, if my words hurt or offend them, then that's their problem!" These are the same people who are totally unreceptive to being criticized themselves. Their intent is not to help the other person, and they don't care if they discourage the other person with their comments - their goal is simply to intimidate others into doing things their way. They are not motivated by love of others, but by love of self. (If that describes you, then I strongly encourage you to do some serious repenting before you approach your brother or sister in Christ.)

Last Wednesday's sermon, and this month's study in Proverbs, have challenged me. They have pricked my heart. I don't know if anything I have spoken recently to a brother or sister in Christ has caused discouragement instead of being helpful.

I do know that I have been lax about the business of knowing my brothers and sisters intimately. What are their current struggles or burdens? What past hurts might be influencing how they receive criticism?

I know that I have not been very transparent with my church family about my own sin. Instead, I tend to be secretive, protective, defensive.

I know that I am prone to run my mouth without even pausing to consider if the person next to me really wants my input. I arrogantly assume that, because I'm an adult and my opinion is as important as the next guy's, then I can say whatever I want, to whomever I want. Ask permission?! What a novel idea!

I know that I have rarely asked another person to tell me about weakness or sin that they see in my own life. Maybe - maybe - a dozen times? Not much, for someone who is 50+ years old. If I am too proud to solicit the constructive criticism of those around me, then I am too proud to offer my own criticism of them. Ouch.

So, following Brother Billy's example of trying to draw practical application from Wednesday's sermon and Saturday's women's study and today's lesson/blog post/whatever you call this:

I earnestly desire to know my sisters and brothers better. How can I do that? This sounds like it will take a commitment of time and effort. I am going to try (Jesus, help me!) to sit down one-on-one, face-to-face with a member of my church family this week, outside of church, and take time to get to know that person better. I have made a phone call and set a date - it's on the calendar. Honestly, I am super excited about this new resolution!

I am going to endeavor to be more transparent about my own sin and struggles with my church family. This resolution is not so exciting. This is actually a little scary. (Jesus, HELP ME.)

If the occasion arises that I feel I need to offer constructive criticism to another person, I am going to try to pause and ask permission first. And then, hopefully, I'm going to respect the other person's response - if they say, "No," I probably don't need to press my case.

And finally, I am going to ask a couple of mature Christian friends to share their observations of my own life. What weaknesses or blind spots do they see? What things do I need to work on changing or improving? What constructive criticism do they have for me?

I have to admit:  I am a bit nervous on the front end of these resolutions. But what else can I do? If I love Christ, and if I truly love his bride, I need to make some changes.

Jesus, help me!

IF YOU CAN'T AFFORD TO LOSE...

I suppose we all grow up with family sayings, those bits of wisdom passed down from parent to child to grandchild.

I remember Mom challenging me to pause before speaking, to consider what I was about to say in light of these questions:  Is it true? Is it kind? Is it necessary? Is it helpful? (Excellent advice, although I haven't always followed it.)

"You can catch more bees with honey than with vinegar," my Dad once told me.

"Advice is always better received when it has been solicited."

"Can't never could."

I don't remember when this saying was impressed upon me, or who said it:  "If you can't afford to lose, you can't afford to play the game." It was probably introduced when I was a child, caught exhibiting bad sportsmanship upon losing a game with one of my siblings. The bottom line was, if I couldn't handle losing with composure and a measure of grace, if losing meant my world was going to fall to pieces, then I didn't need to play.

True for a board game with siblings. True also for financial and emotional investments. If I can't deal with equanimity with the possibility of things NOT going the way I would like, then I probably lack sufficient resources (financially, emotionally, etc.) to take the risks involved and I need to turn around and walk away from the deal.

If I can't handle losing, if losing shatters my peace and leaves my world in ruins,...well, the problem isn't that I lost, but that committed resources (my sense of self-worth, my understanding of personal success, my foundation for security or peace, etc.) that I didn't really have. I'm like a bankrupt gambler being told at gun-point to pay up at the end of an abysmal run of poker.

What are some big losses that I have incurred in the game of life...

I have lost time.
I have lost my privacy.
I have lost a degree of freedom.
I have lost my health a few times.
I have lost my trust of others.
I have lost my innocence.
I have lost loved ones - to physical distance, to sin, and even to death.

Some of these losses threatened to undo me. I felt like the world truly was crashing down around me. Thankfully, when my heart or my health or my hope were imploding, when I was most completely bankrupt, God always stepped in to cover my losses, to see me through the crisis, to give me hope for a better day, to remind me of the promise of Glory.

I lost a dear friend a few months ago. Most days, I don't feel her absence too terribly...but then there are days when the hole is huge and dark and her absence pulls on my heart so strongly that I feel like I can't breathe.

Thankfully, God redeems my losses, every single one of them, even this one. He turns it into a great big beautiful longing to be with him and to be reunited with those who stand already in his company.

Without this great and good God, I truly could not afford to play. My heart has been broken so many times - how can I possibly afford to risk having it broken again? Without this great and good God, life would simply be too hard, too costly. I would not be able to afford losing again. Losing would hurt too badly.

With this great and good God, truly losing, in the ultimate sense, isn't even a possibility.

FAITH? OR FEAR?

Relationships, work, parenting, church life, ministry, short-term goals, aspirations for the future...

What drives my attitudes, the way I interact with others, the decisions I make and the actions I take in each of these areas?

Around the kitchen table this weekend, we were having a conversation about the sometimes bumpy, often drawn out transition from childhood to adulthood. Different folks were commenting on the excitement they felt at certain times, when they realized they had "crossed over" in some significant way.

"Like the first time you are allowed to go back on the farm with a gun by yourself," interjected one young man. "You realize that your parents trust you, and you get this feeling of pride and responsibility. It's kind of a rush!"

I want to be the kind of parent, mentor, friend, co-worker, ministry partner who dares to let others know the excitement of "growing up," of engaging as a respected and valued co-laborer.

As a parent, as a leader at work or in ministry, it is often a very scary thing to "let go" and let others use their gifts and talents and training without having them run through a pre-flight check list with you first. Even when you trust those under you - when you know them intimately and have great confidence in their ability - it is still so very difficult to take your hands off the controls and let them fly.

I have had to ask myself often over the years:  Why is it so hard for me to let go and trust others to do what I know they are capable of doing? The newly-licensed driver taking the family van to work, driving solo for the first time ever. Leaving the college student at the boarding gate for her first unaccompanied international flight. The timid sister in Christ, leading her first devotional. The rather inexperienced co-worker, volunteering to organize and oversee the new project at work. These scenarios terrify me!

And then, when I do endeavor to step back and let others use their gifts, when I try very hard to loosen my grasp on the flight controls, I find myself constantly battling the urge to interject how I think things should be done. I want desperately to jump in and micro-manage. (Honestly, I really just want things done MY way - I am so much more comfortable with my way!)

Why is giving up control so dang hard?!!

For me, it seems the issue always comes down to:  am I walking in faith? or am I walking in fear? And ultimately, what is it (or who is it) that I am placing my faith in? And of what am I so afraid?

Okay, I admit it - I am afraid my young driver might not be alert enough to other drivers. I am afraid she might get distracted. I am afraid of the carelessness of other drivers on the road. I am afraid the van might break down.

She's a good driver - I know that - and honestly, my problem is not that I don't trust her or her driving. Ultimately, my problem is that I don't trust God. I am afraid that while my young driver is behind the wheel, some situation may arise that is beyond God's foresight or control.

Or letting one of the other writers steer the direction for a new series of articles. I have more experience; I am a better writer; I am more attuned to what our readers like and want. What if Mr. Amateur's idea is a flop? What if we lose readers? What if our editor cancels the series?!

Or asking one of our younger ladies to share her testimony or plan an activity for our moms' group. What if she says something that is not doctrinally spot on with my understanding of Scripture? What if she commits our group to a ministry that not everyone is excited about?

Oh. My. Word.

Like God isn't aware of my young driver; like he doesn't know the other drivers on the road! Like I really know better than God just what will touch the hearts of our readers! Like we can't learn from faulty theology, like God's Word is impotent for adequately and lovingly addressing error!

I admit it:  I am a perfectionist. "Perfectionist" is a euphemism for "control freak." Yuck.

Perfectionism is sin. It is thinking I know better than anyone else - including God - what is best. It is thinking I alone am capable of "doing it right". It is thinking that I MUST have control or the whole plane might go down in flames.

Perfectionism is idolatry. It is idolatry of Self. It is thinking other people need to check in with me first, instead of thinking that I need to check in with God. It is getting my feelings hurt when others don't want to do things my way. It is assuming that differing ideas and viewpoints are intentional attacks against me personally. It is taking my ball and going home if everyone doesn't agree to play my game, my way. It is sulking or mouthing off when I don't like the way things are going.

Perfectionism is deadly. It destroys family relationships and work relationships and ministry relationships. It strangles initiative - squeezes the life out of it until it is stone cold dead. It snuffs out creativity, squelches enthusiasm, and smothers joy -  both for the perfectionist, and for everyone in a five mile radius. It is taking the filthy rags of my own righteousness and twisting them into a hangman's noose in order to commit the double atrocity of murder-suicide.

God, save me.

Instead of squashing the people around me, Lord, let me be the person who encourages them to take initiative, to dare to try, to dream bold dreams; and let me not be afraid to give others the freedom to fail. Let me be the one to breathe deeply and smile when they try out their wings. Let me be the one to say "Great job!" when they succeed. Let me be the one to say enthusiastically "Good effort!" when they fail, and then encourage them to try again.

Please, Lord, don't let me communicate to the people around me that the only thing good enough is perfection, or my way, or whatever I think perfection is, because that is a lie. That is the Anti-Gospel. It is Ugly Self, not Beautiful Jesus.

Father, show me Jesus.

Reflect Jesus through me to others.