He Bears My Grief

This morning, I was feeling sad about some recent parenting failures: losing my temper, choosing myself over them, disregarding feelings, etc. And God met me with Isaiah 53 in the prophecy of His Suffering Servant. "Surely our griefs He Himself bore, and our sorrows He carried (verse 4a).

Always before, I thought of grief in this verse as referring to low points caused by external circumstances: death, loss, disappointment. But today I was sad because of my own sin, and seeing this verse from this perspective really showed me Christ's empathy for my sorrow. He bore my grief--even the sadness I feel over my own failures and unworthiness--and He redeems me. He has taken not only the tears caused by this world but also the sweat of working out our own goodness.

And isn't this the reason He suffered separation from His Father--to bear our sorrow over sin? to stand between us and the rightful consequences of our failures?

It means so much more that He bears this grief, this sinking feeling of guilt and inertia, than that He eliminate the disappointments of a temporal existence. This world will pass away along with its many hints of hell. But my sin--my sin could drag me into that darkness forever. How lightening it feels to know my grief was taken already, that He bore it and defeated it, that through His power and mediation, I can claim victory over even myself.

Yet the grief is not bad since it shows me my need and corrects me of self-reliant goals. All my lists and checked boxes toward good mothering cannot build me up to the godly woman I need to be. It is only through surrender and submission that I can be filled with the Holy Spirit and given the power to obey Him.

Jesus Himself said in Matthew 5: "Blessed are they that mourn for they shall be comforted."

So I mourn over my failures.
I see them burdening my Savior as He substitutes Himself for me in punishment.
I bow before His sovereignty. I repent--for my sorrows break His body and rent His soul from heaven.
And the resurrected Christ picks me up.
He breathes life into me too--life that conquers this world; life that renews, readies, and rebuilds.

He bears my griefs and carries my sorrows, and by His wounds, I am healed.

Writer Realized

Will I fill the role I dream
Real and whole and all it seems?
Indeed known--but better poured:
Thoughts and plots and poems un-stored;
Echoing my soul's delight,
Resounding in etched black and white.

Recognition kills the art:
Ebbing beauty from its heart,
Arresting fame from a puerile ploy,
Leaving a name instead of joy.
Imbed beneath each writer's urge,
Zealous truth must somehow splurge--
Engulfing all and flowing o'er,
Deluging pages with something more.



{This post is part of 5-minute Friday--a writing collection each week based on a one-word prompt.}

The End of my Facebook Era

It may be at its height, and it may be the way to connect. But I'm in retreat. My excitement with and addiction to Facebook is slipping away, but it is not without its last pull. Here are 5 reasons I avoid the feed and 3 reasons I return.

Why I'm backing away

1. My friend list is so big that birthday notifications almost always have someone listed that I cannot remember.
2. I don't update my status, and no one notices.
3. I get lost in the newsfeed even after filtering it considerably and regularly.
4. Seeing other people waste their time or misplace their affections makes me sad.
5. It's unfriendly to pages like my other blog: At Home Abroad.

Why I'm not letting go . . . yet

1. People like to see pictures of my kids.
2. Groups (i.e. Bible study, alumni, playgroups, help with cloth diapering)
3. I refer to Pages to keep up with my favorite writers.

This, the most popular of social media, has a firm grip on our culture because we're already plugged in, already connected to so many people. In every discussion I've heard about detaching from the network, someone says, "But then I'd lose contact with so many people." So we stay. We all sign in, participate, and many of us get lost.

We lose the intimacy of face-to-face relationships.
We lose the authenticity of filter-free conversations.
We lose the touch of human mistakes.
We lose the confidence of an unnoticed life.

Sometimes we lose our identity in Christ when we project our identity into a profile.
Sometimes we disconnect with those close to us.
Sometimes we let thoughts in--simply by scrolling--that negatively affect us and linger as a sour taste in our attitudes . . . all day long.

How much of what we read is excellent and praiseworthy?
Some. Not a lot.

So how much Facebook time should I allow myself?
Some. Not a lot.

How Lovely and How Lowly

How lovely and how lowly...
Creation His solely...
Holy.

Yet in compassion He donned
the pungent robe of outcast man
to be--gone
from home's perfection
to this world of misdirection,
to face bold and dark rejection.
His plan, still
a choice, of will
to leave heaven for earth,
to enshroud His worth,
to encapsulate the Word
in a single human voice
by birth--
human yet pure,
divine reduced to dust,
a must
for us:
our Cure.

In Your Presence

Worthy, high and holy,
admired, adored--
You, God, are great.
My heart full but lowly,
I wait
then lift my sight--
once darkened now restored--
to behold Your glory,
to read Your bright, bold story
of right,
of truth, of beauty, of compassion,
of rescue,
of un-rational grace,
of my mess--You
took
my place.

Your light enfolds my being,
the brightness sears my seeing.
Outpoured--
Your presence is freeing.

May I connect with Your gaze
and respect You with praise
and reflect You, my Lord,
always.

Amen.

Thankful to Change a Wet Bed

I heard his little feet scampering over to my bed and sat up before he could climb in beside me. It was 5am.

"Mommy?"

I could smell the problem. Taking him by the shoulders, I turned him around and marched him to the bathroom. We were facing another bed-wetting episode, and I was tired of it. I told him--repeatedly--as I washed him down, stripped his bed, and recreated a clean sleeping environment for my 3 year old.

Then, after leaving him to fall asleep again, I laid down and couldn't rest. A conversation from the night before replayed in my mind. I had chatted with my second cousin (from the Philippines) about our kids. She told me hers was just over a year old now.

"What a fun age! Enjoy it all!" I typed excitedly. Her icon was a picture of her young son, and I could feel her love for him through the computer screen.

A pause. A long pause. Then--

"How can I enjoy him? I work in Hong Kong, and he's been with my mom since he was 6 months old."

My heart dropped, and my fingers started to shake. All I could type was "I'm so sorry." Then words failed me for the rest of our conversation. I hadn't known. I read her story as she sent it to me. I heard her pleas for cuddle times and snuggles. I felt her grieving those lost memories. I felt guilty for having so nonchalantly talked about my kids before asking about hers.

Now, in bed, I started to cry. "You are really blessed, Malia," Mark had told me when I relayed the conversation to him. Yes, I am.

I resolutely stood up and went to my son, knelt beside his bed, and squeezed him tight. What a blessing to be here with him, to teach him how to grow and learn and live. I'm so thankful that he comes to me at night when he has a problem, that I can help him, and that I can tuck him back in and kiss him goodnight. I'm so grateful, and that has the power to change irritability into joy.

Five Ways to Kill a Spiritual Conversation

When it happens, I feel devastated. When a spiritual discussion deepens, hearts start to ache for truth. So when that discussion is curtly cut off, we can all feel equally sliced. Don't do it. Talk things out. Search the Scriptures. Pray. Pray together. Seek God and plow forward as a team.

And this leads me to my top 5 ways to kill a deep spiritual conversation:

1. Throw in a trite cliche of positive thinking. 
Some of these are more than obvious. Others may break a commandment.

• "Prayer is key."
• "God will work it out."
• "We just need to love."

2. On the premise of "we shouldn't judge," refuse to call sin sin.

Who are you to judge? Well, if you're a believer, we are to judge other believers in love--with truth, humility, and support. To ignore wrongs is to fail that brother or sister. To cower from confrontation is to fall short of obedience. 

3. Play "the God card."

If you have a strong conviction that God wants you to do something, the Bible will support that--through principle if not through specifics--so dig into the Word and prove your case. If you don't want to discuss your personal decisions, just say so, but don't claim God's supernatural calling as a way to elevate yourself above conversation. This card can take a few forms:

• "God is calling me to do this."
• "I'm doing this for God."
• "I don't feel led by God."

The Bible has clear rules to follow. His will is evident and recorded. If your "special calling" skirts around any of the Word's truths, then you are deceiving yourself and others. By playing "the God card," you close the discussion and alienate yourself from being sharpened by Christian friends. The card really reads, "My mind is made up. I'm more spiritual than you. Let's drop it."

4. Ignore the prompting of the Holy Spirit.

Does He live within you? Do you let Him nudge your soul? Are you sensitive to His whisper and obedient to His urging? Don't quench the Holy Spirit! If He tells you to speak, He is obviously involved and will help you to voice truth.

5. Give up because it's too theological.

"How many of us have gone to seminary? Oh, none? Then we obviously can't find the truth. Let's wait until we get to heaven."

God gave us His Word! How dare we assume He will not help us read it? Of course, there are quality resources and godly mentors to reference too, but we ourselves are also instructed to study and to search. As we meditate on His truth, we learn the heart of our Father, our faith expands, and our love breaks us free from a life shackled to this world. Theology is why we rejoice; let's embrace it!

Reviving a dead discussion is almost impossible, so please avoid these awful ways to kill spiritual conversations and thereby weaken faith, loosen Christian ties to each other, and forego the blessings of insight and inspiration.