1. Created Equal and 2. Equally Beloved

Almost a month ago I promised that that my next post would address why I think that both Alexa and I both "deserve the same".  I didn't think the post would be hard to write but for some reason I've had trouble articulating my thoughts on this and I've been sitting on a half-written post. 

If you're not sure what I'm talking about, scroll down and find my last blog installment from September 10th, entitled, "Sowing and Reaping," and read that first.  This is a follow up to that post in which I talked about how the Bible says that people (Alexa and myself included) generally reap what they sow.  Considering my choices and her choices, I posited that because Alexa has sown little or bad seed and (though I'm far from perfect) I've sown better seed, I am reaping a more pleasant "harvest".  But on two levels I believe that we are completely equal and therefore deserve the same.

Here I will insert a warning.  If you reject the Bible as being true and accurate, you might just completely disagree with this blog entry because it's based on a Bibical worldview.  But I would love for you to read on anyway.  If you get a good chuckle out of it, and that's okay with me.

When I met my husband Paul, he had a framed copy of Psalm 139 hanging on the wall of his bathroom.  Here are verses 13 through 16: 

For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother's womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.
My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place.
When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,
your eyes saw my unformed body.
All the days ordained for me
were written in your book
before one of them came to be.

And here's Genesis 1:27:
So God created man in his own image,
in the image of God he created him;
male and female he created them.

My point from the Psalm:  God made you, me, and Alexa.
My point from Genesis:  God made you, me, and Alexa in his own image.

Wow!  I truly believe that in his infinite wisdom, God created the first man and the first woman, and me, and you, and Alexa, in his own likeness.  And that he crafted each one of us personally and individually, with plans and purposes for our lives.  So Alexa and I are both hand-wrought by God, formed perfectly to his precise specifications, and most certainly equal in that we were designed by God--each with our own special gifts and talents--different, but equal.

Even my friends who think I'm in Crazyland will probably agree with the above in a general sense.  We are immersed in a culture that holds up equality and human rights and I'm proud that those things are valued in this place and time.  The second sentence of our very own United States Declaration of Independence states, "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights..."  Yes, even if we differ on who created us and how we were created, we can probably all agree that Alexa and I were created equal as valuable individuals, and in that sense "deserve the same".

So I'm thinking we all agree on my first point--that Alexa and I are equal, and on that level we "deserve the same".  On to my second idea:

I took Elementary Education training in college, and I remember there I was presented with conflicting philosophies of children's behavior and basic character.  One school of thought was the "tabula rasa", which if I recall correctly is the Latin phrase for "blank slate".  The idea is that children are born not good nor evil, but as blank slates.  This position holds that they learn their behaviors from the environment that surrounds them.  Since it's been 15 to 20 years, I can't precisely remember what the competing idea was named, however, the gist was that children are born good and that any evil in them results from corrupting forces in the environment.  Those were the only two possibilities taught to me as educational background theory of morality in children.  Either they are born "blank slates" or they are "born good".

Umm, there seems to be another possibility.  Perhaps in my educational training we should have explored the third logical possibility as well.  In any case, the Bible takes the third position--that people are born not perfect, not blank slates, but actually born in a state of moral brokenness--that is, ever since "the fall".  (This position may have helped me understand the student who threw a desk chair at me the first week I was teaching 4th grade!)

The Bible says that we all do wrong and we are "dead in our transgressions" and that we have no moral ability on our own to resurrect ourselves.  I've heard my pastor Randy Pope give an illustration on this concept.  Here's my retelling of it:  Suppose one person dies peacefully in his sleep and is embalmed, dressed in his best clothes, and placed in a handsome mahogany coffin with cushioned interior.  Now imagine another man who dies in the woods and is not found for three weeks.  It is the middle of summer and the man as been exposed to the elements and the wildlife of the forest for 21 days.  In you mind's eye, take a look at the two men side-by-side.

Which one is more dead?

Duh, they are both equally dead, even though one smells worse.  My point here being that although Alexa does illegal drugs, has no money, has a criminal record, etc., it's only that she "smells worse" than me.  While I don't show as many outer signs of brokeness, Alexa and I are both unholy individuals in the eyes of a perfectly holy God.  Without his redemption of us both, we would both be completely lost.

Last week Alexa shared with me that she believes in God and has a relationship with him through his son Jesus Christ.  She asked me to take her to church next week if she's still in the area.    No matter what we smell like, I believe that Alexa and I are both beloved by Almighty God.  Neither of us deserves his love, but he gives it to us anyway.  Amen and hallelujah.

Sowing and Reaping

A few weeks ago I posted this as my status on Facebook:

Just say you had been saving to update your kitchen with granite, new decor, stainless appliances, and a remodeled island. You now have enough $$. You meet a family with no furniture, no money to get their kids routine medical care, wearing clothes with holes, and eating what food stamps will provide. You help them ...somewhat, but will you feel good updating your kitchen when you could be helping them?

This was not a hypothetical scenario.  I really do have money to update my kitchen and I know a family in these terrible physical and financial circumstances.  Since my post the family was threatened with eviction and I found out they owe $2700 in back rent.  This is in addition to their over $900 in back car payments, medical bills that include a recent 3 week hospitalization with no insurance, and probably other financial black holes I don't know about.

My post generated numerous comments and two in particular got me thinking.  One friend encouraged me.  She said that I should be happy that I had helped the family and that I had saved the money--and that I deserved the updated kitchen.  Quickly another friend chimed in and focused on the word deserved, wondering whether the other family deserved their horrible circumstances.

Since then I've thought a lot about what I deserve.

Both the mom of this family, Alexa (name changed), and I started our lives with similar circumstances.  Since we each now live in Georgia, I think it's unusual that both she and I grew up about 40 miles apart in New Jersey.  We both had married parents and one younger sibling.  Our moms were the same age when they had us.  I'm pretty sure our two families had similar annual income.

However, at some point our life stories diverged. 

I babysat and waitressed, saving half of my income to use in college and buying my clothes out of the remaining money.  I joined sports teams, participated in numerous extracurricular activities, and studied well enough to earn good grades.  In high school Alexa joined a gang, and by age 17 she was no longer in school and living with her boyfriend.  By then she had already given birth to her oldest child, and she left him behind when she moved out.

I went to college and eventually earned a masters degree.  I later married and had three children.  Alexa and her boyfriend committed insurance fraud, which resulted in criminal record.  Her six children have three fathers, which makes life more complicated.  Her current relationship involves domestic violence, which she both gives and gets.

I use coupons when going out to dinner and at the grocery store.  Each month I pay extra principal on my mortgage so I can pay off my house sooner.  I keep putting off the Disney vacation because it seems extravagant.  Her car lease is beyond her budget and she relies upon friends, family, and various ministries to bail her out when she cannot make the payments.  She's on public assistance for food, child care, and now medical care.  Though she's on food stamps, this week Alexa complained to me that "she picked up Chinese food" and no one appreciated her effort in getting it.  Today she has no gas in her car, but she's been to Disney two times in the past three years.

While I've certainly made numerous mistakes along the way, overall I'm thinking I've made better choices.  So does that mean I deserve my better life situation? 

Yes and no.  Today I'll talk about the "yes" part.

I think the principle of "sowing and reaping" applies here.  I knew "sowing and reaping" was a Biblical concept, but a quick Bible Gateway search showed me that it's in numerous Bible illustrations.  In the more agricultural community of a couple thousand years ago, I think farming illustrations would be easy to understand.  In general--you plant good seed, you get a good harvest.  Plant little or bad seed and reap a poor harvest.  Sowing and reaping is mentioned in Job and Proverbs, Luke and 2 Corinthians, and many other Bible books.  Here it is in Galatians 6:7, "Do not be deceived:  God cannot be mocked.  A man reaps what he sows."  While the Bible says that this doesn't apply in every individual case (at least from our vantage point here in the world) it is a general principle that holds true.

Sow crime, buy what you can't afford, and the results won't be good.  

This week I found out that Alexa has just gone back on illegal drugs, causing her to delay acting when the baby is crying or when the 3 year is uncomfortable because she had "an accident" and is sitting around in messy pants.  Buying drugs certainly can't help the family budget, and it's a barrier in getting and keeping a job, and gets in the way of adequately mothering her 5 young children.  She's continuing to scatter bad seed.

So that's my "yes" answer.  In many ways I have sown a different kind of seed compared to Alexa, and I'm reaping a better harvest. 

I tried to type, "It feels uncomfortable to say it, but I deserve more than she deserves," as the conclusion to the last paragraph.  But I deleted it at least twice, and you will notice I didn't leave in in there.  Regarding the principle of sowing and reaping, I do deseve more. 

However, that's not the whole story. 

(Don't even get me started on the children, because her children don't deserve the terrible atmosphere they are living in, just as mine don't particularly deserve the material comfort that surrounds them.)

So I'll address the "no" aspect--why I don't deserve more--in my next post.  I'm hoping that one will be more fun to write.







 

The Divine Pursuit

I'm new to the blogging thing and I'm thrilled that Nicole Unice has shared this guest post with me.  And I'm not just saying that because her children share approximately 25% of my DNA (for those of you not as much of a biology dork as I am, I'll just tell you that she's married to my brother).  I met Nicole when she was a bright-eyed just-turned-16 college freshman, and though she's quite a bit younger than I am I have learned a lot from her.  When she started blogging I remember saying to my mother, "I didn't think it was possible, but I actually love Nicole more now since I've been reading her blog."  So, I encourage you to subscribe to The Stubborn Servant and to take part in the online community she is launching on September 15th.  If you're in the Atlanta area like I am, I think you'd really enjoy coming to hear her speak at WOW on October 6th. 

Here's Nicole:

Becoming a counselor is a weird sort of schooling. What other graduate program teaches you how to listen, ask good questions, and read interpersonal dynamics? Who but future counselors study nonverbal cues, birth order, and “solution-focused questions?” Counseling techniques easily transform into entertaining party tricks: “Let me guess,” I imagine saying to my unsuspecting acquaintance while swirling my drink, “your deepest fear is turning into your mother, whom you find yourself resembling more each day?”


There’s another side to studying therapist techniques. Developing questions that pry back even the hardest shell takes practice. And there’s only one person that accompanies me to sleep, to the bathroom, to work—other than my toddler. It’s me. I am the unwilling recipient of my own therapy.

So I paid attention when I got all emotional about the story of Jonah. Do you know him? The bible Jonah, the telling-God-N-O Jonah, the swallowed-by-a-fish Jonah? Think way back to Vacation Bible School. You probably sang a song about him or maybe smoothed him up on a feltboard next to a smiling whale.

Jonah disobeys and isn’t loving, or at least, that’s the point when we tell the VBS version. But when I prepared a teaching series for a women’s group on the book of Jonah, I found myself stirred up, almost resentful, of what Jonah had become in those children’s stories. Like Jonah is a flat caricature painted by a heavenly hand to make us feel good about ourselves. Hey, at least I didn’t have to be swallowed by a big fish to listen to God. At least I wouldn’t defy God like that.

I got emotional because I thought Jonah could have had some reasons for running. That maybe following God’s orders and going to Nineveh was something excruciatingly hard for Jonah, something that felt impossible to do.

And then the therapist in me listened closely and asked a piercing question: “Hmmm….interesting. What are your Ninevehs?”

Hmmm is right.

I pondered my own Ninevehs and the Ninevehs of those I’ve counseled. I thought about the pattern of fleeing, obeying and resisting God found in Jonah—and found in me. I considered the things in life that would make me want to lob a fat N-O in God’s face, modern-Day Ninevehs like:

Living joyfully in difficult relationships.

Struggling through a hard marriage (or waiting on a good one).

Fighting with addictions.


Battling fear.

Making peace with the past. Wrestling with unforgiveness. Learning to wait. Embracing uncertainity. Raising difficult children. Choosing to care for aging parents. Going back to work when you want to stay home. Having children. Not having children. And the list goes on….

Holy Spirit calling: Jonah is me.

Jonah is you, too, if you’ve ever wanted space from God. If you’ve ever escaped from Him in heart or in action. Jonah is you if you’ve ever wondered how or why God would talk to you—and if you would obey. I know one thing: Jonah’s not a platitude to mount on a cross-stitch and hang in the bathroom. It’s raw, real life. It’s one of the many things I love about God--the way He enters our disheveled reality. The way He knows our crazy souls. And the way He shows us His soul for us, and for all his creation.

If you can relate, take heart, and take another look at Jonah. You might just find a friend.

Nicole Unice is a counselor and blogger working in family ministry at Hope Church in Richmond, VA. Her six-week guided study of Jonah, The Divine Pursuit, is available as a printed version or free download on her website. An online community using The Divine Pursuit begins 9/15.

We have a situation, part 1

Providing emergency crisis care for kids through Safe Families has given me new insight into the world around me, the Atlanta outside my insulated bubble-world, the Atlanta that is in many cases less than one mile away.


In February we got our first placement of a newborn baby boy I will call Andrew (all names have been changed). At only two days out of his mother's womb, already Andrew could be considered homeless. His 20 year old mother Anna was unemployed and had been living with a friend without contributing money toward rent. Anna already had a one year old, Kiara, and her friend had drawn the line at two free houseguests. I also think the friend had reservations about adding a newborn baby to the mix of residents in a small apartment. Anna's living situation was made even more precarious due to the fact that her hostess' boyfriend was incarcerated and soon to be released. He certainly did not want an extra little family-of-three inhabiting "his" home. Anna had no money, no job, and also no desire to give up her little boy.


But what resources did she have? Her mom was deceased, her dad was not a topic she was willing to discuss with me, and she had emancipated herself from the State foster care system at the age of 16. Due to her bad experience in foster care, she refused to place Andrew under its authority. She had a smattering of aunts and cousins in the area, but they had their own commitments of time and finances and couldn't or wouldn't help her with the baby.


You may be wondering how she was able to keep Kiara, her one year old. I have learned that a small bit of support can really make a difference. The father of her one year old was, in my opinion, a deadbeat dad. The father of sweet baby Andrew was such a deadbeat he did not even acknowledge paternity. Neither gave the young mom any help. However, deadbeat #1's mother helped Anna out with an occasional 20 bucks for diapers or formula, and would babysit her granddaughter when Anna had something important to do. With just Kiara, Anna could squeak by with food stamps, free housing, and was able to interview for jobs while her daughter was in the grandmother's care.


This small amount of support was the difference between keeping Kiara and eventually placing Andrew for adoption. We had the privilege of raising Andrew for two months and meeting his mom for weekly visits as she tried to improve her situation. Ideally, Anna would get a job, find an apartment, and have hope for her future. But, eventually things got worse and Anna made a decision to relinquish her parental rights in order to place Andrew in a stable family.


It truly was a sacrificial love offering for Anna to place her baby in a waiting family when she actually wanted to keep him. I know it was the best thing for him, since his mom went from staying-with-a-friend homeless to actually-on-the-streets homeless. Even under these circumstances it was difficult to watch her go through the process of making an excruciating decision. It was also a struggle for me to decide not to take out my magical checkbook or ATM card and "solve all her problems" with the stroke of a pen or by swiping a piece of plastic. Through discussion, prayer, and careful consideration of the purposes and policies of Safe Families, Paul and I came to the conclusion not to give her cash (or let her live in our basement). We fed and clothed her baby for 2 months, and gave her help with material items for Kiara, but that was our boundary line.

I really miss Andrew, and I know Anna must ache for him exponentially more than I do. I released my identity and contact information to Andrew's new family, but they have chosen not to contact me.


Just days before being taken out of my home, he had begun to smile. His wobbly smile is now etched in my mind and preserved in numerous photos on my cell phone. I have many photos of Andrew taken with a high resolution digital camera, but the only good smiling ones have terrible clarity and are stuck on my phone. I'll never erase them.


For years I had been living in Happyland suburbia with gates-on-all-the-stairs, a protected place with caller ID and monitored alarm systems. A safe place where all the surprises are good ones. Now I've felt called to pop the bubble and open my home and heart to kids in crisis. It's not all rainbows and unicorns. But it's a good thing.

Dogs/Danger/Discernment

I love the dog park. It's joy, unadultarated--dogs loping, running, occasionally tussling and tumbling. It had been too long so I headed there with our dog Samson a few days ago. The poor puppy had not had much exercise over several weeks, so despite the 98 degree weather he was extremely excited to arrive. I was looking forward to it as well. Probably due to the heat, there were only three other dog owners there for a combined total of 7 dogs.

I became immediately uncomfortable with one of them, a pit bull that appeared young--perhaps one year old. There were two other pits, and I didn't have a fondness for them either, but I wasn't concerned. When the nervous sensation kept coming back, I prayed, "God, why am I so anxious about this dog? Give me a peace that passes understanding in this situation, that only you can give me." This was my own prayerful paraphrase of Philippians 4:6-7, "Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made know to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." Yet no new sense of peace came over me.

I tried to talk some sense into myself by reasoning that dogs who come to dog parks are socialized to other dogs and humans, and shouldn't make me uncomfortable at all. Only owners who are confident that their dogs are friendly, or at least not dangerous, would bring them to the dog park. No amount of self-talk, no matter how peppy, made me feel better. I started thinking about leaving, but it seemed so silly since Samson had not had his fill of exercise yet.

The other dog owners started talking to one another. Turns out they were all part of a pit bull rescue and they were meeting to exchange the dog that made me uncomfortable. He had been found the previous day roaming in a parking lot. A pit bull. Found yesterday. No known history around other dogs or humans. Bye, bye, dog park.

Later in the day when Paul and I were doing P90X in the basement, Becca reported that she couldn't find Garrett. We told her to look in his room, the playroom, the back yard, the garage, and basically everywhere he likes to go. This was not that unusual of a situation. We have a big house, and Becca's really not very thorough. But I suddenly had an inexplicable and very unsettled feeling. Paul and I stopped our workout and began to search. We couldn't find him anywhere.

I began to feel panicky, and lifted another prayer to God. "God, where is Garrett? Please show me." Moments later I opened up our coffee table, which has a storage area for blankets. I screamed. Garrett was in there, asleep. This is an 8 year old boy who for some unknown reason decided to crawl into a small, confined space and fall asleep. I don't think there are any air holes or ventilation. I can't explain why I opened the coffee table since it wasn't a logical place to look for a boy, except I thank God for leading me there.

Some days am not quite sure what I'm doing, or why I'm doing it, but one thing I do know. I know who to go to when I don't know. Isn't that at least a tiny seedling of wisdom?

Self-control, on sale for a limited time!

Yesterday I browsed around my church bookstore, an activity edifying to my spirit but hazardous to my pocketbook. While I consider myself thrifty, here I'm glad to open my purse wide and dump all my money on the counter. And I do it with a smile on my face! Here are the top 3 reasons I give myself for this behavior:

1. I volunteer to run a church ministry. Many books here would be helpful to me in preparing to serve. Surely everyone would agree that serving others is commendable. So, I should buy some books.

2. I have 3 children and my top priority is raising them up to love God with their whole hearts, souls, and minds. I should purchase and read my children all of the books in this store. Since I don't have time for that, I should buy many of these books and place them in locations around my home. My kids will be sure to see them, and maybe decide to read them. The one who hasn't started elementary school yet can look at the pictures.

3. This is a bookstore at my church, so surely some of the profits from this store go to church ministries. I love supporting church ministries. Buying lots of books here is like an offering over and above my tithe.

As I checked out the items in the store I came across some cute girls' bracelets, each with a fruit of the spirit written on it in plastic letter beads. I'm referring to the fruit listed in the Bible book of Galatians, where it says, "But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self control; against such things there is no law." (To read this verse in context, go here.) The passage tells me that I cannot achieve all of these qualities on my own, but with the help of God's Spirit, there is a way. Through God's Spirit indwelling me, I can myself show love, joy, peace, and patience. I'm pretty good with living out the love and joy part, but what about patience and self-control?

I decided to support my local church and buy (among other things) several of these bracelets. (Who needs self-control in a church bookstore, right?) For my sweet Becca I bought "love" and "joy". For myself I bought "faithfulness", "patience", and "self control". I was thinking about other people shopping for these cute, little-girl style bracelets. It seems the demand for "love" would exceed the demand for "self control". I only know a bit about economics, but perhaps a sale on self control is in order?

So for now I'm wearing the bracelet "patience". When I see it on my wrist I am reminded to pray that God's Spirit would work in me and help me be patient with everyone around me. At least a little bit, it's working.