An Odd Kind of Grace
While I was on the plane yesterday I remembered a time when my family first found out my dad was cheating on my mom. I was 16, and my mom locked herself in her room crying. Seeing your mom sob is a disorienting experience, by the way. And as this memory rushed through my head on the airplane I started to feel guilty for not having known how to console my mom back then. She didn’t have anyone to comfort her, and I didn’t know how, and a sense of guilt anchored itself at the bottom of my stomach.
My counselor’s voice rang in my head. It wasn’t my responsibility to do something. I was only 16 years old. It’s not fair for me to expect myself to have known what to do in that moment. I was only 16.
But then I got angry at Jesus. I typically get really angry when I know Jesus cares about someone and he doesn’t meet them when they need him. And while I’m in my season of counseling and as the Lord is undoing the unhealthy ways I take on responsibility, I have lots of questions that I need answers for. Actually, it’s usually the same question, which was true for this particular memory as well. I kept thinking, “Why wasn’t Jesus comforting her in that moment, then?” If it wasn’t my responsibility to comfort my mom, then whose was it? Jesus’, naturally, I’d think. Then why didn’t he do anything?
Yesterday I ended my reflection without having an answer to that question and not knowing if I ever would. I didn’t know where Jesus was in that moment. You could tell me he was there, but really I didn’t and still don’t see it, and I still wonder what a 16 year old was supposed to do in that situation.
For whatever reason Jesus let Lazarus die, and he let Martha and Mary cry by themselves. He didn’t meet them in their mourning and grieving and save the day before it was too late. He let Lazarus die. I don’t know why, and I don’t know if I ever will.
In my anger, I felt the Lord invite me to do one of two things: either 1) continue to demand an answer, demand he change the past, and be angry at him for letting things in my family die, or 2) let it be, lift my eyes to the hills, and recognize what he’s done since then. I couldn’t answer why Jesus didn’t show up 10 years ago in my mom’s room, but what I could do was think of how the Lord has shown up in that situation since then.
I started to think about what has been birthed out of that mess that probably wouldn’t have developed otherwise. And I thought about what the Lord has redeemed that had died or was lost because of the brokenness.
The list is incredible. My brother, Jason, is who he is because of all of this. That in itself is a gift. But not only that, he’s getting a Master’s in Marriage and Family Therapy at Fuller with which he will be a counselor, restorer, and healer of brokenness in this world. My brother is going to be an agent of healing in the world because of the brokenness we came out of and because of the Lord’s redemption.
My mom is discovering herself and starting to blossom as a person. Even if she had stayed with our dad it would have just been a band-aid to loneliness, anyway. So, instead of the wound festering under a band-aid, though it’s messy and gross, it’s actually healing.
And like my brother, the Lord is using ME as a healer in this world as I have had a large gulp of his cup of suffering. Not to mention, songs that minister to others have been birthed from all of this.
I hesitated to write this whole blog because I didn’t want people reading it and thinking the typical Christian responses that Jesus was there, that the Lord works for the good of those he loves, and all the other things that are so easy to say when you’re not the one in the midst of the crap. Though those things are true, they can easily feel trite. Crap is very crappy. It stinks, it’s unbearable at times, and it can poison your insides. And 10 years of it can often make certain moments feel like a nightmare.
When Jesus finally got to Bethany, Lazarus had already been in the tomb for 4 days, and Jesus wept. Even though he knew he was going to see Lazarus alive again soon, Jesus still wept. It’s hard for me to understand, but it gives me some insight as to how hard these things are for Jesus. Then, Jesus did an amazing miracle, showed his glory and power and love for Lazarus, and raised Lazarus from the tomb. But Jesus could not have done the resurrection if he had not gone through the pain of letting his beloved friend Lazarus die and causing Mary and Martha to have to grieve and mourn. If Jesus had met them right at the moment of their grieving and saved Lazarus from dying to spare them pain, then they would have missed out on the resurrection and all that comes with that experience. It is the Lord’s grace that he doesn’t show up sometimes, isn’t it?
For my family and I, it’s been over 10 years, and I know there is more grieving to do, but by now there is also much celebrating to do. I can choose to only grieve, to be bitter, and to demand answers, or I can accept the Lord’s invitation to celebrate and thank him for his odd kind of grace.
Resting in Uprootedness
It’s been a weird season as this whole year has been full of changes, and I hadn’t known what to do with it until now. I’ve been uprooted in all sorts of ways, and I found myself fighting with the season rather than submitting to it.
What in my life WASN’T changing this year? I’ve been processing serving at a new campus and saying goodbye to Southwestern. I’ve been traveling so much that I consider myself lucky if I am in San Diego for 2.5 out of 4 weeks of a month. I started going to counseling which is shifting my entire understanding of myself and my family dynamics. I just moved to a new house, away from our community of friends. One of my best friends is getting married and moving to Chico and I’m trying to figure out how to say bye to him. Not to mention…now being married. Seriously, what isn’t changing?
The season the Lord has me in is one that has me uprooted, but I’ve been fighting it because I keep trying to act like I can do everything and spend lots of energy feeling guilty when I can’t. Somehow I’ve grown up thinking that if I just tried hard enough, I could do anything. You know…like Asian parents make you think you can get all A’s if you just try hard enough, and if you didn’t get an A it’s because you didn’t try enough. There were many things I wanted to do during my last year at Southwestern that didn’t happen. There are things in my fund development that I want to happen that aren’t happening. Things with friends, church, my relationship with God…the list goes on. And when these things don’t happen I just spend my time feeling guilty thinking that I just need to try harder.
My counselor keeps telling me that I’m way too hard on myself. She reminds me often that Jesus let himself rest. There were always more and more people to heal, but he didn’t heal them all; he rested. He just put a stop to it all and let himself move to the rhythms of God’s grace.
When I look at the list of all the things in my life that have changed or are changing, I don’t know how I ever expected myself to feel rooted. If I’m gone for more than 2 weeks out of almost every month, there are many things I cannot do. Add that to all the other changes that are going on and there’s little to be rooted in. My counselor is right—I AM too hard on myself, and the unrealistic expectations I put on myself are causing me to feel guilty and run myself into the ground to get nowhere.
Here at our staff Spiritual Formation retreat, the theme is “Transition & Transformation.” In every transition some things die as one season ends and new things begin. So my long list of changes are the things that are dying in my life that I need to mourn.
After we identify the things that are dying, we are supposed to ask the question, “What is the Lord asking you to let go of?” This was the interesting question for me. I expected my answer to be something on the list of changes that I didn’t want to ever change. But actually, when I asked the Lord what he wanted me to let go of I heard him say, “I want you to let go of the pressure of trying to feel connected and rooted in all those things. You tried your best. Stop trying to do more. There’s only so much you could do with the time you had. I saw you trying, and I’m pleased…but my daughter, I just want to give you rest.”
I started crying when the Lord said that to me. It’s like I was trying to be superhuman and push through a brick wall while having weights chained to my legs also, and God saw me and gently put his hand on my wrist and took my hand off the wall. “My daughter, I just want to give you rest.”
I don’t know how to give myself rest, but I hope that as I move in the rhythms of God’s grace that I will let him teach me how to rest. For me, resting calls for a greater trust in the Lord in the sense that even if there’s a long list of things that need to get done I need to trust that the Lord will fill those holes instead of them being filled by me running myself into the ground. I have to let God be the sovereign one.
Building Faith
It’s 5am, and I can’t sleep, so I got out of bed. I know I’ll regret it in a few hours, but I suppose I don’t really have a choice since I’ve already been tossing and turning for a couple of hours. So what better thing to do than to blog!
I’m restless, and all I can think about is housing and fund development. Benson and I are planning to move in a few months, so we’ve been looking for new houses. Don’t worry, we’ll still be in San Diego. Probably even closer to you. 
Anyway, for some reason I feel like I have no faith that God wants to give us an amazing new place to live that lives up to our current awesome house. Ditto on the faith thing for God providing the rest of the money in regards to fundraising. I don’t know what brought me here. These are two areas I usually have a lot of trust in the Lord with, but for some reason I’ve been having a hard time with these lately, and I can’t seem to muster up enough faith to not be anxious about them.
And, here we go.
Am I really expected to “muster” up faith, anyway? I often hear people say, and I’ve said this myself, “God is testing my faith”…but is that even true? I know as we go through life our integrity, character, etc. are tested, maybe by God, maybe just by life, but how much does God actually test our faith?
Is God really like that, that he’d just send us off into trials to test us and see what we’ll do? I think yes, sometimes. It happens in the Old Testament for sure, but I still have to wonder what it all really means.
Like, how are we supposed to have more faith? Do we just sit around and gather all the faith within us to elieve more? I think I’ve about conjured up as much faith as I can with the housing and fund development, and it’s still not enough. Is that really what’s expected of us, because that’s what it sounds like when we talk in terms of “testing faith.” I have a hard time believing that’s all that it is. I have a hard time believing that’s all God really is.
This week I taught the passage from Mark 4 where Jesus calms the storm. Jesus initiates a trip with the disciples to cross the sea by boat, only to later be found asleep in the driver’s seat during a life-threatening storm. The disciples wake him up saying, “Do you not care if we perish?,” really asking “Are you not concerned that we are going to die?” Jesus wakes up responding with, “Why are you afraid? Have you no faith?,” really saying, “Why are you afraid? Do you not trust me?” Then he calms the wind, and the disciples are left in awe, now realizing that Jesus can control the weather, in addition to the other things they’ve seen him do so far.
Classically, I’ve taught that passage before saying that our battle is Fear vs. Faith–that fear is the enemy to faith. It’s true…but then I’ve just left people with, “So, have more faith. Suck it up, stop fearing, and have more faith.” I had some problems leaving it at that this time. That doesn’t seem like enough. HOW? How do you have more faith? Gathering all the faith within me and believing more just doesn’t seem to fly with me right now.
By this point in Mark, the disciples are still trying to figure out who Jesus is. So far they’ve seen him cast out demons, heal sicknesses, forgive sins, and teach with authority in the synagogue. No experiences with controlling the weather yet. It’s tempting to get annoyed with the disciples for not having faith in Jesus to calm the storm and for questioning whether or not he cares, but really, I understand. How are they supposed to know that Jesus can control the weather? How could that even be expected of them at this point in their relationship with Jesus? Is that a fair test? They’ve never seen him do anything like it.
And, I really doubt Jesus would just send them into the storm just to see how they’d react…to see if they’d pass the test or not. Isn’t that a little boring for Jesus? Really, Jesus? Is that how you want to spend your day? I’d be bored if I were him. Anyway, the disciples have already shown marks of faith. They left their nets and families to follow Jesus!
I think rather than testing their faith in that moment, Jesus actually builds their faith. They don’t come out of the storm feeling ashamed or condemned for not believing in Jesus to calm the storm. They actually come out in awe, with a new understanding that Jesus can even control the wind, and through that storm their picture of Jesus grows a little bigger.
As they experience more and more life with Jesus, their faith in him–their trust in him–grows deeper. Deep trust is built through relationship. It’s hard to trust someone you don’t know very well, especially with your life.
I think of good friends who I’ve had intense conflict with, or who I’ve made it through scary moments with. When we come out the other side in one piece our trust in each other deepens and we realize we can depend even more on each other.
Same with Jesus? Ultimately, God wants our complete trust in him. Sometimes I think he takes us through storms not just to test how much we trust him, but to help us grow in our trust in him. I’m not content with the limited view that God would just test our faith, especially when he is the author and perfecter of it. The Lord loves relationship, and he loves to walk through life with us. By going through storms with him, he expands our understanding of who he is and brings us closer into his heart.
So I guess I have a new question for myself. My lack of faith in the areas I initially mentioned come from some broken trust with Jesus. I’ve already seen him come through in caring and loving ways with both housing and fund development in the past, so somewhere, somehow in the recent course of life my trust with Jesus got broken. What is the fracture in my relationship with Jesus that is causing me to distrust him? Yikes! Something for me to think about.
Dreams & Risks: Ponderings from my mid-twenties
Wow, I am awful at blogging. Okay, let’s get to it.
As I’m now 25 and in a few months will turn the corner to 26, I’m starting to wonder if the mid-twenties can really suck the life out of you. Or…me, at least. I’m finding that with each passing year through my twenties the ability to dream slowly degenerates. It happens in such a sneaky, gradual way, which I often think is the most dangerous form of attack.
I think I’ve written about this before in some past Xanga. Heck, I wrote a song about it 3 years ago. Maybe not about my twenties, but definitely about dreaming, loss of childhood, and loss of abundant, innocent, child-like joy. I find for myself that all of that is lost as the ability to dream deteriorates as well.
What happens? Well, life, I suppose. Life happens, we experience ups and downs, and it affects our ability to dream. Life happens, and we’re told who we are supposed to be. In college you have the world in front of you; a myriad of opportunities. Then all of a sudden once you graduate you’re expected to have your life together, be settled, and be competent at what you do. Somehow, whatever dreams I had, or at least my ability to dream, was eaten up by some innate pressure I feel to be competent now that I’m in my mid-twenties.
The problem is it’s not like it just hits you all at once, normally. Like I said, this is sneaky and gradual, which is why I think it’s the most dangerous form.
I find myself unexpectant and without anything to chase. No huge dreams that are outside of myself, and therefore no expectations….and therefore, no risks.
I think what’s so important about risk-taking is that it makes us hang ourselves on a limb and puts us in a position that requires God to move…and then we get to see God move.
When I see students taking risks with talking to new people, or sharing their faith, being on leadership, or not being on leadership, there’s a brightness in their eyes, a freshness in their spirit, and a tangible growth because their picture of the Lord just grew a little bigger. It’s invigorating.
Pastor Jamie has preached on risk-taking regularly for at least as long as I’ve been at Coast Vineyard. And I know the importance of it. I call students to take risks everyday. But here in the mid-twenties there’s a weird pressure that makes you feel like you have to be capable and competent, and though that’s not what’s going through my head everyday, when I step back to think about it I realize that it really has affected how many risks I take. You feel a pressure to have it together, and that means you stop taking risks, because taking risks means you’ll probably be bad at it.
Let me tell you…living safely is boring. And stale. And monotonous. And lifeless. Quite honestly, it sucks.
I want to dream again, and I want to dream forever, for that matter. I want to chase after things that are way too big for me to do on my own, things that surpass my own capability and competency. I want to put myself on a limb—on a lot of limbs—and position myself again in a way that requires my understanding of the Lord to grow.
Ask me once in a while if I’m taking risks. I have one in mind, which I started (in a very small way) a couple weeks ago. That’s actually what inspired this whole blog and thought process. And if you have some good ideas for ways to take risks, hit me with ‘em! Or if you have good questions to ask to help direct me in the kinds of risks I could take, ask me. Just as a disclaimer, I don’t just want to take random risks like sky-diving or something. I’m talking about the kinds of risks that are necessary to chase God-sized dreams….or reverse, the kinds of risks that remind me that God is one who is so huge that I need to dream even bigger.
-=dreamers again=-
audrey tom 2005
over in the corner, on a dusty shelf
is the girl that once danced in circles
skin as fair as moonlight, heart as pure as gold
left to dream about stories untold
history trails behind what could be
take me back to time once told
when home was home and pain unknown
take me back to empty space
when dreams would be cherished
what happened to those days?
i wanna be where the dreamers lie
to run around in circles and dance till we die
take me back to the dreamers again
footsteps in the dirt are calling out her name
but she dances around them her own way
we’ll throw our weight around, try to tell her what to do
but her innocence makes her outweigh you
imagination craves escape from emotional graves
take me back to time once told
when home was home and pain unknown
take me back to empty space
when dreams would be cherished
what happened to those days?
i wanna be where the dreamers lie
to run around in circles and dance till we die
take me back to the dreamers again
Stopping to Worship
When I do the Daily Examen I’ve gotta tell ya…it’s a little boring. I think I said that before, because it is. I think it’s boring though, because I was just kind of going through the questions, writing down seemingly little moments of how I saw God’s presence with me through out the day. Nothing more than that, though. I’d just think “Cool, there’s the Lord…” and be on my way.
It’s funny how easily holy moments with God can pass us by. Life is busy, and we can quickly spend our days and weeks going from one thing to the next only to get up and do it over again. And finding God in the ordinary is just another thing to do. “Nice, there’s God. Done, and done. Next item on the agenda!” How is it that I brush these off? These are holy moments, where the Lord is near and revealing himself to me, yet I recognize them only long enough to let them pass me by. In everyday circumstances, whether I recognize the Lord or not, it’s jarring to me that I can still just treat them as a fleeting experience.
So now the Lord is not only teaching me to find him in the ordinary, but he’s also requesting that I am disciplined in worship. I think the reason is this: For me to stop and worship the Lord when I recognize him in my midst helps me treat those moments as holy moments.
In the Old Testament it was not uncommon for the Lord to meet people in a holy moment and then ask them to stop and make an altar so that they would remember it. After God stopped the flood that wiped out the earth and took Noah on a crazy journey of building an ark and staying in it for a long, long time Noah got out of the ark and made an altar to the Lord. When the Lord delivered Joshua and the Israelites from the wilderness and miraculously helped them cross the Jordan River they made an altar to remember the amazing experience they had with God.
Finding God in the ordinary isn’t as spectacular as crossing the Jordan River during flood season or surviving a year-long flood in an ark, but I guess that’s the point of finding him in the ordinary isn’t it? Anyway, my response to those moments is where the discipline of worship comes in, because the act of worship serves the purpose of allowing me to stand in those ordinary moments with God and treat them as holy moments. After all, any moment with the Lord is holy.
Something about responding to everyday moments with God in worship lets the experiences with Jesus seep into my core. It does a similar thing to what making an altar does–responding in worship calls me to turn to the Lord and sit with him rather than let the moments simply pass me by. I don’t want to live a life that is full of moments with God which I let slip through my fingers. What’s the point of that?
And I have to believe that the more I sit with Jesus when he’s revealing himself to me the closer I will be with him and the more I will become like him.
Generational Sins and Blessings
Sometimes dealing with broken situations is really difficult for me because the messiness that comes with them is taxing, and the hope of the light at the end of the tunnel easily becomes faint.
While the Lord has healed much of the brokenness in my family, there is still a long road to go. During the season leading up to Benson’s and my wedding we were dealing heavily with the effects of the brokenness in each of our families. It was extremely hard and often filled me with anxiety and stress.
I’ve spent the last 10 years cleaning up the trail left by my dad’s sinful affair. If any of you have experienced the loss of a parent in some form or another (for me it was the loss of a parent in the nucleus of our family), you know how heavy the burden is when family member roles get shifted. I’ve lived with the weight of taking care of both my mom and my brother and have spent almost half of my life worrying about my mom being lonely. If you’ve been in a situation like this, you know the guilt that comes with moving away from home…and how much stronger is that guilt when you get married.
Benson’s family has a similar story, though the breaking is actually far from being done there. Nevertheless, we both feel strong obligations to our moms and acutely feel the weight of having to pick up the slack that our dads have left.
Maybe you can imagine how hard it was to think of having to “leave” my family and “cleave” to my new husband. I even wondered how God could be so cruel and ask me to leave my family. But my wondering shortly turned to bitterness by the thought that “leaving and cleaving” was only meant for healthy families, the kind of families God intended in a sinless world. What about families that are horribly broken? What about those? How the hell are you supposed to feel okay about leaving those?
Before our wedding some friends prayed over us something so beautiful that I need to write about it so I always remember it. First, someone prayed that Benson’s and my relationship would be the end of generational sin in our family lines. Generational sin is a sin that’s passed on from generation to generation. In my family it’s bitterness. Look closely at my family and you’ll find that through out our bloodline everyone struggles with bitterness. Kind of crazy. In Benson’s family, it’s unfortunately broken marriages. I guess it’s interesting to note…and maybe you could start paying attention to generational sins so that you can be aware of the sin that’s in your family line and let God put an end to it.
Anyway, I love the idea of our union being the end of generational sin.
What was even more beautiful to me, though, was that after the person prayed for the end of generational sin they declared that our relationship would be the beginning of generational spiritual blessings. When they prayed that I felt a renewal of hope and an excitement for leaving and cleaving. Leaving and cleaving now seemed like a redemptive opportunity to pass on a legacy of spiritual blessing and further redemption for all the crap and brokenness we’ve had to go through…and are still going through. I love the idea that our relationship will not only be the end of much generational sin but that it is the beginning of a legacy of blessing. It’s not just that all the crappy weeds get pulled out of the garden, but the garden can produce beautiful flowers and strong, healthy, fruitful trees as well. We have a chance to turn things around, not just momentarily for our own family’s current brokenness, but also for the generations after us. How great is the Lord.
I love that the Lord can redeem things even when they look like dead ends. He can end generations of sinful habits, and he also allows a time for renewal and experiencing the fullness of the abundant life he gives, just like he intended. The work of the Lord is so, so beautiful.
Jesus in the Ordinary
For at least the last 5 months the Lord has had me in a season of finding him in the ordinary.
I used to find Jesus kind of strange and rather silly when I read how He interacted with his disciples after his crucifixion and resurrection. Several times Jesus would sort of surprise them or nonchalantly walk up behind them and join their conversation as if nothing happened. If I were Jesus, I’d be like “LOOK! I’M ALIVE!!!” But Jesus doesn’t ever do that, and I always thought that was weird and kind of funny of him.
Back in May I was at a spiritual formation retreat with fellow InterVarsity staff and we studied Luke 24:13-35. Now that same day two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem. They were talking with each other about everything that had happened. As they talked and discussed these things with each other, Jesus himself came up and walked along with them; but they were kept from recognizing him.
It’s weird to me that they couldn’t recognize Jesus though they were just talking about him. I have to think Jesus wasn’t in disguise or playing games with them. I’d like to think of Jesus as silly, because I think that’s fun, but there’s really probably some deep spiritual meaning behind why he pops up to his people as if it ain’t no thang…
And there is.
We talked about how Jesus often likes to meet us in the ordinary, but if we’re not looking for him there, we’ll miss him. That is so telling of our humble King, isn’t it?
It was an incredible confirmation for me about what I felt the Lord was teaching me–to find him in the ordinary. The truth is that most of life is ordinary. We breathe, study, go to work, take showers and brush our teeth (hopefully), eat meals, wash dishes, talk with friends, and have very ordinary experiences most of the time. Actually, considering how much of our lives consist of ordinary things I’m glad Jesus likes to meet us in the ordinary because otherwise we may not see much of him. Then again, if we miss him in the ordinary we won’t see much of him either.
I feel like I’m on a treasure hunt. It’s amazing to me that the two men on their journey to Emmaus didn’t recognize Jesus, whom they were just discussing. How difficult it is to find Jesus in the ordinary. But to my frustration this is what the Lord is teaching me. I felt as though God said to me, “Audrey, you’ve learned to worship me and find me in the fullest of times when my presence has been strong and forward, and you’ve learned to worship me and find me in the desolate desert, but now it’s time to find me in the ordinary.” Unforunately, I also felt like God was telling me that this season wouldn’t end until I truly learned to see him in those places.
It’s been 5 months, and it’s been boring to be quite honest. Mostly because I haven’t been trying very hard. The ordinary is…ordinary. Mundane, even. For me it takes discipline and reflection to recognize the Lord in the mundane…discipline that I’ve been avoiding, which is why it’s been 5 months with little to show for it. There’s an exercise that is helpful called the Daily Examen that I’m supposed to be doing, but DANG I just want excitement!! I like when God just smacks me in the face! And mostly, I don’t like to have to work for it. haha. However, I know that 1) God will be faithful to not take me out of this season until I’ve learned what he’s trying to teach me, and 2) once it becomes second nature to see God in the ordinary my relationship with God will grow to new depths that I couldn’t have otherwise gotten to.
So, here’s to the ordinary. If anyone wants to practice it with me this is the Daily Examen…
The Daily Examen
The goal is to see how the events of the day have made an impression on you. What touched you? What stirred your emotions? What created a sense of conviction or resolve, doubt or fear, hope or gratitude? Then, where was Jesus for you in that experience?
- What happened today that moved me towards God?
- What happened today that moved me away from God?
Practice Exercise
Reflect back over the day since the time you woke up. Note anything that made an impression on you during the day. (stirred emotions, etc.)
Which of those things that touched you moved you towards God? or caused you to cry out for help, give thanks, experience a sense of awe or talk to Him?
Which of those things moved you away from God? Or caused you to doubt, turn away, give into temptation, and distract you from paying attention?
As I’m learning to live life with Jesus I see that the ordinary is what the majority of life consists of, so if I hope to live life with Jesus for a while I’d better learn to find him in the ordinary.
