The Rough Places Made Smooth

  ... along unfamiliar paths I will guide them;
I will turn the darkness into light before them
    and make the rough places smooth.
These are the things I will do;
    I will not forsake them.

--Isaiah 42:16 NIV

Ever had a week that was full of "rough places"? Mine has been like that so far.


If you've been reading my blog--or know me at all--you know that I'm recently divorced from my former pastor-husband. (Note: as I've mentioned before, I'm not sharing details about the divorce, just sorting through some of my thoughts as I trudge through the process.) 

As I'm discovering, the process of rebuilding a life post-divorce is very rough indeed. Here are just a few of the "rough places" I've gone this week:

* updating my will
* seeing my doctor before my health insurance was cut off
* finding a mortgage company that will refinance my home loan in my name only
* cleaning/prepping the house for the assessment--and getting rid of many memories in the process

I'm definitely traveling along "unfamiliar paths" these days (Isa.42:16).

Unexpected paths.

Rough places.

Yet as I've stumbled along some rough places this week, I have discovered that God has gone before me. Here are a few examples:

* The lawyer who helped me redo my will is my former Sunday school teacher who has known me since I was very young. Before one particularly difficult decision, she stopped to remind me how rare it is to have such a great family. She said far too many people sit across her table and struggle to think of just one person they trust enough with their kids or finances. Yet there I was, with an amazing mom and sisters and brothers-in-law who all love God; I trust each of them implicitly to raise my children wisely. Yes, I agreed, I am very blessed. In that moment, at that table, God shone His light into that dark place to remind me, Look at the family I have given you. I will not forsake you.

* Next, I went to the doctor--not thrilled about the fact my health insurance was being canceled. What if my asthma flares up? What if something happens to me? After I waited anxiously in the frigid room (why is it always subarctic in doctors' offices?), my doctor came in. He, too, is a Christian and has encouraged and prayed for me for months. He asked me how I was, and I told him--weeping--the latest news. He gave me a fatherly hug, had his staff fill a bag with samples, and assured me he would make sure I always have medical care. I was overwhelmed with relief. Awash in gratitude. Aware of another God-whisper: Don't worry about tomorrow. I will not forsake you.

* The process of refinancing my home has been filled with God-glimpses. My father-in-law-in-law (what do you call your brother-in-law's dad?) who has been a father figure to me through this whole "unfamiliar path," is helping me with the paperwork. My friend who works for a title company is helping me with the process. My Realtor friend came by to help me stage my home. My fix-it friend taught me how to unclog my sinks by disassembling the pipes underneath. (I felt so empowered!) A dear friend gave me delightful scents to make my house smell nice. A neighbor mowed my yard. Another neighbor came over to help me change my light bulbs. And--surprise!--a friend told me I won a Scentsy drawing and got a new plugin! So many God-reminders: Look at the people I have given you to help you through these rough places. I will not forsake you.

Little by little, I'm starting to see how God is guiding me along these unfamiliar paths and turning the darkness into light. Now, to be honest, it doesn't feel like God is shining a dazzling spotlight and dispelling all the darkness ... but if I look hard enough as I travel through these rough places, I can see the flickers of grace that guide me along the way. Step by step.

Even as I stumble on these unfamiliar paths, He IS going before me to make the rough places smooth.

He WILL NOT forsake me.

Satisfied

I'm not sure how often I'll be able to blog, but in these few quiet moments before the kids wake up, I'll share something God has put on my heart this week.

When I visited with my girlfriend last Saturday, we reminisced about our college days when we memorized the Westminster Catechism together. (Yes, we were nerds.) We smiled over the fact that both of us, twenty years later, still have our flashcards in the top drawers of our desks.

So when I got home, I pulled out that old set of flashcards. Yellowed and worn, smudged with coffee stains and crumbs, the familiar words were a bedrock of hope--the anchor of my soul which is both sure and steadfast (Hebrews 6:19).

"What is the chief end of man?" the first question asks.

(NOTE: my girlfriend and I memorized the old-timey version in tiny print below the paraphrase. If you squint, you can read it.)


"Man's chief end is to glorify God, and to enjoy him for ever" comes the resounding response.

(Or, as John Piper so eloquently amends, "Man's chief end is to glorify God BY enjoying him forever.")

Question: Why am I here? (Why are you here?)

Answer: To glorify and enjoy God.

To be SATISFIED in Him.

My "chief end" or reason for existence is not, as I sometimes think, to have a perfect life, like all those status updates in my Facebook news feed of smiling families with happy marriages and well-behaved children and adorable pets, posting pics of family vacations and cute kids. (Disclaimer: I do love all of you, Facebook friends. And I'm truly happy for you. But sometimes I have to take a break from my Facebook news feed because it makes my reality so raw. And it makes me ache for something more. Something that feels so palpably MISSING.)

As Ann Voskamp writes in her book One Thousand Gifts,

"Our fall was, has always been, and always will be, that we aren't satisfied in God and what He gives. We hunger for something more, something other."

These past few months, I've been wrestling with what it means to fully satisfied in God. Not to be satisfied in  my marriage (which came to a shocking end). Or in my accomplishments (which aren't that much). Not even in my ministry as a pastor's wife (which was taken away) or the children I love immeasurably.

But what does it mean to be satisfied in God Himself? In God plus nothing? To fall on your face in worship, like Job, when your world falls apart and proclaim, "Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked I shall return there. The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away. Blessed be the name of the Lord" (1:21)?

It comes down to this: if I never again have a husband... if all the people who are precious to me were snatched away... if I lost everything here on earth...

Is Jesus enough?

YES! my soul cries out from the deepest place where truth lives.

And NO! my heart protests, when the waves of grief crash around me, when I am confronted with stark reminders of what I no longer have, when life just flat-out doesn't make sense.

I'm not there yet. But I'm limping into the arms of my heavenly Father every day, asking Him to help me look past the What-Might-Have-Beens and the Missing Things in order to be fully satisfied in Him.

The Lord will continually guide you and satisfy your soul in scorched places... (Isaiah 58:11)

A Surprise Beginning

 

Well, as most of you know, it’s official. I promised myself that I wouldn’t write specifics about the Thing Itself, so if you’re looking for “the scoop,” you can go ahead and stop reading. You won’t find it on this blog. 

For those of you who are still here, I’m finally taking a few baby steps into writing about what I’ve been experiencing and learning the past few months. And I'm trying to process how to live a faithful life and hear God's whispers of grace in the midst of my new and unexpected circumstances.

Before I start telling you the stories of my recent journey, let’s start off by clearing the air a bit, shall we?

1. Divorce is NOT contagious. You can still be my friend; it’s okay. You won't "catch" it.
2. God hates divorce. In His original design, marriages are NOT supposed to end except by death. Yes, Jesus gave the exception for infidelity. But the marriage covenant is intended to last a lifetime, as a picture of Christ's unending love for the church. I absolutely agree.
3.  Despite the truth of #2, sometimes there’s a story behind the divorce that you may not know. So please don’t judge every divorced person and think, “They just didn’t try hard enough.” Sometimes divorce comes even when you desperately don’t want it to. When you pray and beg and plead for it not to.You don't always know what happened in that marriage. So when you encounter a divorced person, PLEASE remember to show grace.

 Okay, now that we’ve gotten THAT out of the way…

I have dozens of stories to share with you. I’ve been bottling them up, nearly exploding with the need to express what has been going on. But it’s so hard to put these things into words. 

Here's a little background: I signed the decree on Thursday night, with precious friends covering me with prayer and love and grace (... and bubble wrap dancing, but that's another story!). Then Friday I went on a trip with girlfriends from the neighborhood. So by God's grace, my first full day of being divorced I didn’t spend alone. I was with my closest girlfriends. And the next night I spent with my best, best girlfriend—my heart friend. It was a fun, healing, grace-filled weekend.

There are lots of stories about the girls' trip, of course, that I’m skipping over. It was, to say the least, a very memorable adventure, filled with lots of "firsts" and lots of fun. :)

But here's the story I want to tell you now:

On Sunday, my girlfriend took me to her church in Austin. (Random info: My girlfriend and I both grew up Southern Baptist. We met in a Bible church at Texas A&M. After college, I veered nondenominational and she became Presbyterian. Then I married a Baptist pastor, and she dated an Episcopal priest. Weird how life works out, huh?)

Anyway, the church she now attends is Anglican. It’s VERY far from my Southern Baptist roots. But I really wanted to go. My aching heart longed for the liturgy and reverence and community of the greater body of Christ.

I’ll skip over the details of the service for the sake of time. Which brings me to the heart of this blog—what I really want you to experience with me:

Communion.

(Before you keep reading, note that I'm not going to debate theological views of Communion. Please, let's just all agree to meet at the table as the body of Christ and see beyond our differing views to the God of the sacrament.)

At the end of the service in an Anglican church, you receive the Eucharist.

Let me say it again so my Baptist and nondenominational friends notice the slight distinction. 

You RECEIVE the Eucharist. (Or Communion. Or Lord's Supper. Whatever you want to call it.)

You don’t pass the plate down the pew--or folding chairs--and take a cracker or filled plastic cup and put it in your own mouth. You don't "take" Communion. Nope. You walk up front, stand alongside the other believers, and hold your cupped hands in front of you. Extended and open, much like a beggar. Humbled. And ready to receive the elements.

Then the priest walks by and looks at you gently and directly. “This is the body of Christ, broken for you,” he says, placing a piece of bread in your outstretched hands. And you receive the body of Christ in a very personal way. Then he presents to you the chalice. Again, he looks at you and says, “This is the blood of Christ, spilled for you.” And he brings the cup to your mouth (you don’t even touch it), and you receive the blood of Christ.

You RECEIVE it. 

Just like you did when Christ gave His life for you. You receive the sacrament the same way you received your salvation. Not of any work of your own, but simply by extending your empty hands like a beggar, cupped and open and ready to be filled by Him.

I’m not going to wax eloquent about all the implications of covenant here, so I will say only this: a covenant is often celebrated with a meal. That’s why a bride and groom entwine their arms to share wedding cake to celebrate their covenant of marriage.

So in God’s magnificent grace, the first Sunday I came to worship with a heart deeply grieving that broken marriage covenant, God reminded me of His own, unbreakable covenant with me. 

And I received the covenant meal.

That Sunday, receiving Communion was a significant reminder that I belong to Him. That He is my forever husband. 

It was a watershed moment for me. One of those significant times you memorialize as a divine encounter with God. Like the old hymn says, it was my Ebenezer--"rock of help." (see 1 Sam. 7:12.)

It marked a new beginning for me. 

Lots of stories have surprise endings—but mine has a surprise beginning. And my new beginning started with a covenant meal with my heavenly Husband.

I don't know how my story will end, of course. Only God knows all the days of my life that were written in His book before yet one of them existed. But I know this: something brand-new started this week. And I am confident that the God who started a good work in me will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.

So day by day, I will look to Him and watch the Author of my life reveal the rest of the story.

"That was just the beginning. I have a lot more to tell you, things you never knew existed. This isn't a variation on the same old thing. This is new, brand-new, something you'd never guess or dream up." (Isa. 48:6)

A New Name

“Do you know what your name means?” 

This opening line to our evening’s reading from The Jesus Storybook Bible triggered a quick-fire response from the kids: “What does my name mean?” “What about MY name?” “What’s MINE?”

  I reminded our kids that they all know the stories behind their names—each of them is named after a beloved family member. I’ve told them over and over the significance of their names and countless stories about the loved ones for whom they are named. 

(Random fact: all three of my kids are named in memory of my father in some way. My oldest carries my dad’s middle name. My middle daughter’s initials are my dad’s nickname for me.  And my son is, of course, named after my father.)

             But the kids pressed: what did their names MEAN?

                It was a good question. I wasn’t sure.

                So after our devotional and prayer, we searched baby names on the computer. (How did people do things without the Internet?) The derivations and meanings of all our names were somewhat lackluster, except for my son’s name, which means “strong and honorable.” He liked that one. :-)

                 Interestingly, the next morning, my own devotional, Jesus Calling, took me to Ephesians 3. And in the opening lines to one of my favorite passages, I saw something I’d never realized before:

“For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth derives its name . . .” (Eph. 3:14-15)

Whoa. I’d read past that verse countless times on my way to the rest of the chapter, which speaks of “the breadth and length and height and depth” of the “love of Christ that surpasses knowledge” and how God is able to do “exceeding abundantly beyond all that we ask or think.”  

But this time, God stopped me at verse 15. It was if He was saying,  You want to know the derivation of your name? You are named after Me, your heavenly Father!

I carry the name of my heavenly Father.  

 And each of my children carries not only the name of my earthly father, but also of their heavenly Father.

And if you are part of the family of God, you, too, are named after your heavenly Father. No matter what your earthly name may be, you carry the name of God, our Father. 

(Pause to let that sink in.) 

You may not like your name. Like me, maybe your name is too popular and the stores were always sold out of the trinkets bearing your name. (I think almost every daughter born in the 1970s was named Jennifer!) 

Or maybe your name is tainted with bad memories. Perhaps you still bear the surname of a spouse who left you or a father who mistreated or abandoned you.

Regardless of the name your parents gave you or the name you took in marriage . . . there is good news! If you belong to the family of God, you have a name you can be proud of! You bear HIS name!

 * * *

And as if that weren’t enough reason to praise God today, here’s one more bit of good news about your name: 

Revelation 2:17 tells us that someday Jesus will give us a “new name.” Each of us who already bears the name of our Father will receive a nickname from the risen Jesus, a name that only He knows. A special name He will give us because He loves us.

A new name.

And not only that, Jesus says to those of us who overcome, “I will write on him the name of My God, and the name of the city of My God, the new Jerusalem, which comes down out of heaven from My God, and My new name” (Rev. 3:12).

His new name.

  

“Behold,” Jesus says to you and to me . . . and to anyone who may be struggling or striving or sad today . . .

 “I am making all things new” (Rev. 21:5).

Preparing for the Storm

You are at home, eating dinner and looking forward to a relaxing evening with your family, when you suddenly hear tornado sirens go off.

Where do you go? 

Maybe a first-floor bathroom? An interior hallway?

On Wednesday evening, as tornadoes began touching down in the Dallas area, hundreds of people in the metroplex were forced to find a safe place.

At our house, we head for the closet under the stairs. It’s a large closet, with plenty of room for the five of us. (Brett jokes of the day when he can turn it into his “man cave.”) Since it’s our designated “safe place,” I keep our weather radio, flashlights, extra batteries, a fan, and a portable DVD player in there for emergencies.

We’ve had to take shelter in the closet several times since we’ve moved here. My kids know the drill—when you hear the sirens, grab your pillow and blanket and meet us in the closet, where we’ll create a comfy nest of pillows, watch a movie, and have some snacks. This routine keeps the kids calm until we get the all-clear from the radar. 

Brett sometimes teases me about how fanatical I am about being prepared for storms. (He lived in Oklahoma, where tornadoes pass through as regularly as the ice cream truck.) I think it’s because I want to feel like I’ve got everything under control… even though, obviously, I can't control the weather. There's a reason they call these things "acts of God."

Ever since the first recorded natural disaster—the Flood--God has been reminding us that while we can and should prepare for the storms that come our way, we ultimately have to rest in His grace and trust Him to see us through.

In his book Has Christianity Failed You?, Ravi Zacharias pointed out something that I’d never realized about Noah’s ark: 

When Noah was building his ark, God gave him detailed instructions about everything: how high, no higher; how long, no longer; what species to include and in what numbers—details ad nauseum. But when all had been done according to God’s instructions and the door was finally shut, it must have been a terrifying experience to realize there was no sail or rudder on this ark. Who was in control? (emphasis added)

Think about that. If ever anyone was prepared for a storm, it was Noah. After all, God gave him a hundred years to get ready. The ark was Noah’s magnum opus—the culmination of a century of painstaking work in preparation for the greatest storm the world has ever seen. He must have studied the blueprint God gave him over and over as he constructed every detail of the three-story-high, football-field-length vessel. After all, his family was about to spend an entire year aboard this oversized life boat.  

Surely Noah must have scratched his head at God’s design for the ark--with no sail or rudder--and wondered, Who’s going to steer this thing? 

I’ve felt like that before. When storms of life have come crashing down, flooding me with such worry and fear that I feel like I’m drowning, I’ve wondered, How am I going to get through this? Sometimes I just can’t see past the crashing waves of doubt.

Those are the times when I head for the “safe place” of God’s protection. I grab my Bible and seek shelter in the cleft of the Rock, where God’s promises and presence keep me calm. And even with the storm still raging around me, I finally realize…

The God who created the storm is the same God who is going to steer me through it. 

What storm are you facing right now?

Whatever it may be--whether a natural disaster or a tempestuous situation--you can cling to this truth:

God is in control.

When I Grow Up, I Want to Be . . .

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

How did you answer that question when you were a kid?

Miss B wants to be a horse trainer. Or a veterinarian. Or a teacher. Maybe all three—she can’t decide. (Perhaps she’ll be a vet who teaches horse trainers?)

J.J., on the other hand, is certain of her future career: she’s going to be an artist. In fact, she’s already trying to sell her creations. Here’s a photo of a drawing she did last week that she offered to let me buy for “only $100.” (She’s saving up to buy a puppy, she told me.) What a deal, huh?

Four-year-old Buddy wants to be an astronaut. Or a baseball player. (Move over, Alan Shepard—Buddy is going to play baseball on the moon!)

It’s fun to watch my kids grow into the people God made them to be. Each one is so unique! Miss B is rhythm and rhyme, J.J. is spunk and sparkle, and Buddy is charm and charisma.

As parents, there are lots of things that we can do for our kids. We can pray for them and raise them according to God’s Word. We can love them and encourage them. We can teach them and discipline them. But there is one thing we cannot do for our kids, no matter how hard we try:

We cannot re-create them.

It doesn’t matter how many parenting books you read or seminars you attend. You could follow the advice of experts or channel your own inner James Dobson. You could diligently instruct and train your child…

But you can’t change who God created your child to be. 

Other people’s kids may be smarter, more athletic, or more outgoing. But one of the most dangerous things we could say to our children is this: “If only you could be more like so-and-so…”  

If only you could make good grades like your brother. 
If only you could behave like the neighbor’s kid. 
If only you could play soccer like the coach’s child. 
If only…

But God didn’t create our children to be someone else’s kids. He created them to be the best version of themselves.

In his book The Me I Want to Be, John Ortberg puts it like this:

As God helps you grow, you will change, but you will always be you. An acorn can grow into an oak tree, but it cannot become a rose bush. It can be a healthy oak or a stunted oak—but it won’t be a shrub. You will always be you—a growing, healthy you or a languishing you—but God did not create you to be anybody else. He pre-wired your temperament. He determined your natural gifts and talents. He made you to feel certain passions and desires. He planned your body and mind. Your uniqueness is God-designed.

Brett and I are doing our best to help our kids move toward a healthy, flourishing version of themselves. No matter where their paths may lead—to vet school, an art studio, or even NASA—we’re committed to support and encourage them as the unique people God created them to be.

And that goes for us grown-ups too. You'll never outgrow the person God created you to be. And no matter how much you admire others' talents or successes, you can't be someone else. You can only be you. The you God created you to be.


So what do you want to be when you grow up? Are you frustrated and exhausted from trying to be someone else—or are you moving toward God’s best version of you?

The Tattle Book: The Good, the Bad, and the Funny

You don’t have to teach your kids how to tattle.

It’s one of those things that come naturally—like breathing and saying “Mine!” and getting a bump on the head right before picture day. And if you have multiple children, you know that nothing brings out a child’s inner Judge Judy than a sibling breaking the rules or, worse, a sibling getting away with something the Tattler has been punished for. (It’s uncanny how kids suddenly remember and respect the rules so much more when someone else is breaking them.)

I thought we had tamed the tattletale beast in our family a few years ago. But as this summer wore on, with our kids experiencing a bit too much togetherness, I noticed that they were starting to hone their FBI informant skills again.

One sweltering July afternoon, while my mom and I were watching the kids swim, I asked her advice on how to curb the tattling. She gave me a brilliant idea, borrowed from our friend Joye, a longtime kindergarten teacher.

“Whenever the kids come to you with a tattle, have them write it down in the Tattle Book,” Mom said. “Assure them that if they write out the situation in detail, you will read it later. That way, they’ll get it out of their system and will soon forget about it. And you’ll have a good laugh later when you read all the things they’ve written about each other!”

It sounded like a good plan, so I decided to give it a try.

I went home and found a spiral notebook in our school supply stash. Since it was a three-subject notebook, I decided to expand the “tattle book” idea. Not only is our Tattle Book a place for the kids to tell us about their perceived offenses, but it also includes a section for Brett and me to “tattle” the good things we catch our children doing, as well as a section for us to record the funny things they do or say (you know, those cute things you think you’ll remember forever but usually forget in a few days).

The results have been hysterical! Our 3^rd grade daughter’s tattles on her siblings are long and detailed. (She loves to write, so she’s creating a veritable novel about all the injustices done to her.) Our 1^st grade daughter’s tattles are rife with all caps and underlines and exclamation points, making sure you hear how MAD she is!!!! And our 4-year-old takes so long to write his tattles (because we have to spell the words for him) that he’s completely forgotten the offense by the time he’s written it.

The kids enjoy reading and rereading all the positive things their dad and I have “tattled” about them. And Brett and I are trying to remember to jot down all the funny things they do, like when our son mistakenly sang “Jesus diapered all the children, all the children of the world” this week.

I have to admit, the Tattle Book is one of the best ideas I’ve ever borrowed.

Did you know that God has His own Tattle Book? Oh, it’s not called that, of course; but the Bible talks about God having a book where He records all kinds of things about us. For example . . .

• God records our days. “Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed.” (Psalm 139:16)

• God records our deeds. “I saw the dead, both great and small, standing before God’s throne. And the books were opened, including the Book of Life. And the dead were judged according to what they had done, as recorded in the books.” (Revelation 20:12)

• God records our despair. “You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book.” (Psalm 56:8)

• God records our deliverance. “Then there will be a time of anguish greater than any since nations first came into existence. But at that time every one of your people whose name is written in the book will be rescued.^” (Daniel 12:1)

• God records our destination. “Nothing evil will be allowed to enter [heaven], nor anyone who practices shameful idolatry and dishonesty—but only those whose names are written in the Lamb’s Book of Life.” (Revelation 21:27)

Scripture tells us that everything we do and every day of our lives is recorded in God’s book. And it kind of makes you wonder . . .

What do you want God to write about you in His book today?