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.
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.
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.
