Variations

"Two sides to every story."

I've never liked that saying and I especially now do not like it.

Having two sides makes it sound so divisive.  So disagreeable.

You need to hear my side so you can agree with me.

The problem is, it's not necessarily two sides, but a fuller story of the same side.

I recently read what felt like a 1,000 page biography on Dietrich Bonhoeffer (it's fantastic; find it, buy it, borrow it, read it) but I didn't give people a 1,000 page epilogue on what I read.  Rather, I gave them the reader's digest condensed version.  I told them what stood out to me, what fascinated me, what convicted me and what encouraged me.

Yet - that's my view.  If you were to read the actual biography, you would get a much fuller story than any variation of my account could give.

In conflict, there are always two sides to every story.  But it's not really sides so much as variations.

What often happens is the one who has been accused, the one who has been tried and condemned with no jury, is often reeling from what just smacked them in the face and their version is never heard.

It compounds the problem.  Because they aren't saying anything (because they're trying to figure out what the heck just happened and how it got to this place) and the other person's bias is the only one being heard, it just solidifies that the accused is guilty.

People stop looking you in the eye.

People take a wide berth in the hall so they don't have to walk near you.

Everyone in the group gets hugged except you.

It's uncomfortable, it's hurtful, it's baffling.

Yet to speak up would seem like you're defending, trying to justify yourself so you don't, which makes it seem as though you're guilty.  You're damned if you do and damned if you don't.

What I have learned is this --  those that care, they've asked.  Those that don't care will stay their distance.

For people that truly care and love you, no explanation is necessary.

What kind of relationship would that be if you're always having to explain your actions for others' approval?

News flash:  that's not a relationship, that's enslavement.

My husband asked me the other week what these last four months have produced in me.  In other words, let's sift through the yucky and find the gold.

My response?  Never deeper have I felt my justification in the LORD.  Never more have I felt the utter peace that comes from Him knowing my heart and that the weight of how people judge me based on perception actually holds no basis for my eternity.

They don't hold my tomorrow, He does.

They don't approve of me, He does.

They don't justify me, He does.

All because of Jesus.

Pruning

We have this row of crepe myrtles that lines the front of our yard.  Planted long before we ever moved into the house, numbering well over twenty, they’ve failed to produce blooms year after year.

Jake has trimmed and pruned, fertilized and watered, for very little reward.  We made the assumption they had not been planted in the correct location or with the correct spacing and thus have turned our attention to other gardening matters (hello, fire ants).

My neighbor down the street, green thumb extraordinaire and brimming with knowledge and helpfulness, was brave enough to approach me about the trees.

I told her what we had done and she shook her head and replied, “That’s not good enough.” 

She then proceeded to launch into a lecture on how to correctly care for crepe myrtles.

The method calls for far more pruning that we ever thought.  Much more fertilizing and trimming and mulching than we’ve ever done.

See, seven of them are over forty feet tall with branches you can’t wrap your hand around.

Her advice calls for walloping all of them off, save for two or three of the biggest branches, to thin them out and produce new growth.

These branches are in good shape.  The bark is smooth, the leaves are abundant and green.  It doesn’t make sense to sever what seems to be bearing good things.

Yet, they lack the distinct mark of crepe myrtles – the big, vibrant blossoms.

It will be hard, laborious work, hacking through these several-inches-around branches, but next year…

Ah, next year, what will be seen will be far greater than what we see now.

In the book of John, Jesus is recorded as saying, “Every branch in me that does not bear fruit he takes away, and every branch that does bear fruit he prunes, that it may bear more fruit.”  (John 15:3)

The full weight of those words cannot and should not be taken lightly.

These past few years, God has given growth in me that has borne fruit.  I can look back and point to specific goals met, deep heart desires given, achievements accomplished.

Yet, in these past eight months, he has slowly started taking his holy shears and started the pruning process.  What branches that had growth thick and lovely, he has sliced into.

When God tested Abraham’s faithfulness, God did not ask Abraham to give up something that was wrong, unholy or sinful.

Rather, God asked Abraham to open his hands to something that was good and right and holy.  Laying Isaac on the altar was calling Abraham to sacrifice his one and only son, who was long awaited for and a direct result of God’s goodness and faithfulness to Abraham.  To put it another way, this was a gift as a result of a prayer answered.

In a word, the shears went to work, pruning and shaping a branch that was indeed bearing fruit yet was not fully what it could be.

God doesn’t simply take what is good. Pruning is not punishment, but a loving act God does to us and for us.  His glory and our good.

I’m beginning to understand pruning is not a one and done activity.  Over and over and over, pruning must be done to tame, train and promote better, more vibrant, healthier growth.

God does holy pruning so that we may wholly produce what is lying dormant.  Every branch that is all ready producing good things, he lovingly guides so that they may produce more good things in a better way.

The crepe myrtles can’t blossom when they’re giving nutrients to something that should not be there.

So my neighbor will come over next week.  We’ll labor, yet not in vain.

And next year, it will be done again.

When the Church Rages

These past few months have been hard.  My character and integrity were called into question by people I believed to be trustworthy and thought were friends (and maybe, on some level, still do).
The most hurtful part is the how of the circumstance.  To think someone is a safe place, only to realize, too little, too late, that your confessions, your vulnerabilities, your struggles and your weaknesses have been exploited and turned against you can be a baffling and painful thing to wrestle through.
To find out a case has been building against you; to know there were conversations about you, but never involving you; to be blindsided in what you thought was a regular meeting and leveled with accusation, after accusation, after accusation can leave you feeling sucker-punched.
To be called a liar and a gossip.  To be told you're leading women astray and causing divisiveness.  To be accused of being disrespectful, rebellious and unsubmissive.  To be told you're walking in unrepentant sin and if you would just be humble and repent, everything would be fine.
Needless to say, I've said more f-bombs these last few months than I've probably said in my entire life. 
What to do?  
What to say? 
How to respond?

What man meant for evil, God has used for good.
The division it could have done to our marriage, (as my husband as been woefully betrayed by fellow comrades in this spectacle) has only pushed us deeper into each others' corners. 
Where it was meant to spoil friendships, it has only served to allow those relationships to grow sharper and to humble me with deep gratefulness that I can call such solid men and women my friends.
Where it should make me doubt the goodness of God and my trust in His ability to defend me has only led me to believe the gospel in a truer light.


No one likes to talk about church conflict because the church has it all together.  If we're the believers, the chosen, the redeemed, we can't possibly show our missteps, our hypocrisies and blemishes, can we?
Yet for that very purpose, isn't that why we believe? 
Isn't that why we need redemption? 
Isn't that why to be chosen is such a humbling and honoring thought? That Christ would look upon us with all our filth and shame and proclaim, "That one -- I want that one!"  That he would love us so much He would lay down all His desires and give up His own life for us?  

Not because of anything worthy in us, but because of all his worthiness.

We are indeed sinners, doing life with sinners.  This is what should set the believer in Jesus Christ apart.  Not that there won't be conflict, but when there is, how we handle it will be utterly astonishing to the world.
Beloved, if you've been wounded,  if you've been burned by the church, there is a great hope awaiting you here and now.
Jesus, your High Priest, sympathizes with you.  Because of the very human weaknesses He experienced as Immanuel, God in the flesh, He understands your weaknesses and extends the invitation to boldly approach His throne of grace.
Fix your eyes on Jesus and His justification and not the judgement of others.
Allow the truth of the gospel - the hope and reconciliation -- to sink deep in your heart.  Be kind and tender-hearted, forgiving others as God in Christ has forgiven you.
Know that only God can do the greatest amount of good for the greatest amount of people at the best possible time and He is for everyone.

For they drop trouble on me, and in anger they bear a grudge against me.

For it is not an enemy who taunts me - then I could bear it.

It is not an adversary who deals insolently with me - then I could hide from him.

But it is you, a man, my equal, my companion, my familiar friend.

We used to take sweet counsel together;

Within God's house we walked in the throng.

Psalm 55

Unseen Presence

Chronicles of Narnia is the all-time favorite series in our household.  We’ve read from beginning (The Magician’s Nephew) to end (The Last Battle) so many times, I’ve lost count.

My favorite book out of the 7 is The Horse and His Boy.  Shasta is a young boy fleeing from his abusive father who is attempting to sell his son into slavery.  Shasta steals a soldier’s horse and escapes into the night.

Seemingly to him, everything goes wrong.  He ends up traveling with a girl who is running away from an arranged marriage she doesn’t want.  He becomes lost, he is separated from his horse, he is mistaken for someone else and taken up, and over and over he is pursued by wild animals.

One night as he is walking by himself, Shasta finds a Presence beside him.  He is terrified as he is unable to see what this thing is and finally gathers enough courage to start talking and asking questions.  In the midst of pouring out his heart about everything that has gone wrong, the Presence speaks:

“I was the lion.  I was the lion who forced you to join with Aravis.  I was the cat who comforted you among the houses of the dead.  I was the lion who gave the Horses the new strength of fear for the last mile so that you should reach King Lune in time.  And I was the lion you do not remember who pushed the boat in which you lay, a child near death, so that it came to shore where a man, wakeful at midnight, to receive you.”

In this moment, the Presence, now revealed as the Lion, Aslan, tells Shasta he has always been working even when the boy did not know or understand.  This resounds with me because I find myself in Shasta’s shoes. 

Pouring my heart out to God, telling him my mishaps and failures, my confusion and “if-only’s.”

This last week has found me up at night, in the silent darkness, grieving in a way I can’t articulate.

Death of a dream can do that to a person.

For five years, I’ve pleaded with the Lord to relent, to change, to undo what was done.  And the answer has been no.

In my most hopeful moments, I think it will come later.  In my most despairing moments, I think it will never happen.

I find myself taking comfort from Shasta and the Lion because I need to know that in my unknowing, He does.

That in my confusion, He is peace.

In my hurt, there is healing.

In my wandering, He remains.

Looking at the vast landscape, I can easily get sucked into the next week, stretching into the next month, sliding into the next year and wonder how I’ll do it. How can I continue in the pain and feelings of inadequacies and can’t they please go away?

He responds, “My grace is sufficient for you…”

He has never asked me to make sense of it.

He has never told me I would make sense of the loss, but rather he would use it for my good and his glory.  Even in the pain, he is doing things far beyond my comprehension.

He promises to walk this with me even when I don’t see him or feel him.  For I live by faith and not by sight and I know he is a faithful, promise-keeping, covenant-fulfilling, redeeming God.

“There will be seasons, perhaps days, perhaps years, when no truth however expressed – whether through Scripture, prayer, the kindness of a friend, music or dance – will reach your soul deeply enough to offer joy or hope.  During those seasons, remember, it was when our Lord lost all sense of His Father’s presence that God was in Christ reconciling the world to himself.  The Spirit’s best work is sometimes done in the worst times.”

-          Dr. Larry Crabb

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