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"If I make it, I'm a good man. 
Am I a bad man if I fail?"

- "Man of God" by Audio Adrenaline

A family adopted a child, and the child was out of control, and the family had a lot of trouble.  Eventually, the mother came to a conclusion.

"Looking back," she said, "I see that God
was not in that adoption.  It was us.  

We were going against God's will."

This statement gives me pause for at least a couple of reasons.

1. God commands us to care for widows and orphans.  This oft-repeated statement (Old Testament and New Testament) would thus seem to be God's will for us.
2. Just because troubles arose from the decision to do what God commanded, that means it's not God's will?  So unless we have smooth sailing, we aren't in God's will?  So if bad things happen to us, it's because we're not in God's will?  Really?  Is that seriously how we think?

I don't think God tries to trick us.  If He tells us something is His will, or if He tells us to do something, I would like to believe that if we do it, we are doing His will.  Is that wrong for me to think?

Job said: "Should I accept the good from God
and not the ill?"  

(Let's forget for a moment where he went after that with the help of his friends . . .)

And here's another one: 

"The rain falls on the righteous and the wicked." 

I think that one's about common grace, but the opposite seems true, too.  Bad things happen to all people who live in this broken, fallen world full of broken, fallen people.  That's just how it is.  Just because we're "in God's will" doesn't mean we're in a happy place full of roses, balloons, and bunnies untouchable by the world; it just means that we have the hope that this rotten world full of woes isn't all there is for us.

What does love say to a person who says what this mother does?  What does love say to a person who says that if your life isn't going well, you're doing something wrong?

A last word from God:

"In this world you will have tribulation, 

but be of good cheer, 

for I have overcome the world."

Anyone have any thoughts to add or other ways to look at the situation?

What to pray for

What am I supposed to be praying for? What am I supposed to be trusting God for?

I read a really convicting quote in the last chapter of Crazy Love.

"We try to set our lives up so everything will be fine even if God doesn't come through." 

It's true for me.

Right now, my family can help support me financially, but I feel like they shouldn't have to. I feel like I must find a Job that pays a living wage somehow, even though I'm not qualified because of my disability, even if I have to fudge truth about my capabilities or take a Job that will cause me too much physical pain because if I don't, I'll just keep failing more and more financially until I have to declare bankruptcy. I want to get a Job, so I don't have to rely on their help, so they don't have to sacrifice for me anymore. Whenever my situation hits me hard, I find myself praying for that magical Job that will make things right.

Sometimes I feel like those prayers to God for that magical Job situation are my trust in Him. They are certainly my parents'. "God will provide a Job," they say, "you just have to keep trying." This makes me feel like if the Job doesn't materialize, it's my fault for not trusting enough or something, for not doing the right things.

Other times, I feel like this insistence we seem to have that God owes us a good job or prosperity of any kind is foolish and arrogant. God does not exist to make me happy and comfortable. God does not have to provide me with a miraculous Job in order to stay God or win my favor and trust. At least, it shouldn't be that way. People who believe in Him are starving to death, being tortured, and dying for Him, and they don't feel that He owes them anything more. So I feel guilty when I pray specifically for the Job, like I'm saying, if you just give me this thing, then I can take care of the rest.

It's messed up.

I don't think I can ever go back to that place of worry-freeease and comfort, if I was ever there in the first place. I've never really been in it, now that I think about it. My mom was deathly ill. My Dad lost his job when I was a kid. I struggled to get out of college debt-free; I was always concerned about there not being enough money. It's not like this is new to me. I have always had to rely on "things working out" in order to stay afloat financially. I feel like I already learned that lesson. But if the job never materializes, does it mean I haven't learned the lesson right (or the right lesson)?

What this crappy, painful, out-of-control situation (that started with my injury at work and subsequent dumping by the responsible party [US government] and currently disabling chronic pain and basic unemployability) has made me do is rely on God to get me through the day, every day. From the hauling myself out of bed exhausted every morning to the crawling back in and all the sleeplessness therein, the Lord's name is to be praised. Not very chipper and poetic, as Psalms go, but maybe I can make it work.

I don't think that I will forget this reliance on God just because I get a great job with health insurance and a competent, reasonable boss who appreciates my work and gives me great performance reviews. I don't think I will forget that it is in Him that I live and move and have my being if the pain goes away. I think this lesson is part of me, ingrained in me forever.

But if getting these things would make this understanding go away, then I have to pray that God won't give me those things. (This is why you shouldn't pray dangerous prayers, like, "God, bring me closer to You no matter what," unless you really understand what they entail. :)

So what am I supposed to be praying for again? I feel like my standard, "helpmehelpmehelpme" or "pleasegetmeoutofthis" aren't specific and personal enough. Any suggestions?

The childless 10%

When I randomly opened up Gilbert's Committed, the page I landed on talked about how in every society, statistically, 10% of women never have children.  This was somewhat flabergasting to me (and to Gilbert).  1 in 10 women?  Really? 

Sometimes, the percentage can get as high as 23%, but for some reason, it never falls below 10%, if I'm remembering what I glanced at.  I think Gilbert talks about evolution causing this consistent number or something (can't remember), but as a Christian, I was really intrigued.  Apparently, 10% is a good number, a minimum amount necessary for something.

Of course, not all of these women lack children because they are lifetime celibates.  Gilbert mentions infertility, war, and other reasons.  I wonder if that 10% takes into account how many people adopt and raise children not biologically theirs.  Probably not.  Maybe that's part of what that 10% is for. 

Anyway, what are your thoughts about/experiences with that statistic?

Liz on discipleship, also other questions

I was so impressed with Liz's response to last week's post and the way it made me think that I decided it needed to be posted a bit more prominently for those who may not read comments.

"I think the idea of making disciples is a bit terrifying. I suspect that it is supposed to be like the way I understand draft horses are trained: you take an inexperienced horse, hitch him up alongside a mature, trained one, and then keep them working/moving together until the new one gets the hang of things. If you make disciples that way, you're looking at dedicating yourself to running parallel to somebody else for a long time. You might not even really like the person, but who are you to judge, if you're open to helping whoever needs it, whoever God brings you? Which of course you should be, if you trust him and really want to do his will and work. And think about the people who have put up with you in the past. Think about the people Jesus put up with, even among his closest friends, the twelve. If find it exhausting just to think about it, let alone live it.

"If you just go someplace for a week and harass people you don't know and will never see again, you can come back and live your life however you please and feel good about yourself for it."

As a follow-up question to everyone: What is the difference between discipleship and mentorship? 

If discipleship is partnering up with whoever gets hitched to your harness, is mentorship about seeking out someone of a different age but a like mind?  Is there a place for that in the church, as well?  Is it mandated or just a good idea?  And how do we go about getting hitched into someone else's more experienced harness and get someone less experienced hitched into our slightly more experienced harness?  Any examples, ideas, or suggestions?  How exactly does love go and make disciples?

Something important I figured out about why "evangelism" makes my skin crawl

I have always been uncomfortable with the way the evangelical church defines evangelism. They equate it to the Great Commission and indicate that real Christians are ready and willing to evangelize (do drive-by evangelism, hand out tracts at the drop of a hat, and preach at anyone who breathes and enters their radius). I've never been comfortable with that.

For a long time, I harbored guilt about my unease. Obviously I wasn't a real Christian if I didn't like participating in these activities. Along with making me uncomfortable, they seemed ineffective.

I didn't know how ineffective until I was reading The Unlikely Disciple, where the hardest chapter for me to read wasn't the one about masturbation or the one about homosexuality, but the one where the author signed up to do a spring break evangelism trip. I knew the chapter would be mortifyingly embarrassing to me as an evangelical (and it really was). I didn't want to read it, but I knew I couldn't skip it.  I stalled out at that point for two weeks.

Part of my discomfort came from knowing that this kind of "evangelism" was pointless. Even someone who does not relate to others normally knows that the tactics we teach to evanglize are not the most effective way to tell others about our faith and beliefs.  We are called to love God and our neighbors, and we do that best by having relationships with people and living out our love for God and them among them. However, I wasn't comfortable with the kind of "life-style evangelism" that didn't ever involve telling people why we do what we do and what we believe that motivates us to do what we do. (Another balance issue?!)

Recently, I figured out that the root of my unease with what evangelicals refer to as evangelism has to do with the meaning of words. Matthew 28:19-20 is called the Great Commission and is used by Evangelicals to describe their mandate to evangelize. Leaving aside concerns about whether Christ was speaking to that specific audience or a broader one (and assuming He was addressing a broader one including all believers), I am not satisfied that we are reading this verse right. My Bible doesn't say, "Go preach at people" or "Go tell them the gospel, get a prayer of confession, and mark them down as a statistic.  My Bible says, "Go therefore and make disciples . . .."

What we describe as evangelism seems to me to have less in common with biblical discipleship and more in common with historical practices like forced conversions, the Crusades, and the Inquisition. In the past, the church had political authority and power, and we could bludgeon people into doing our will. That's not very biblical, but we did it a lot. For a really long time. Power corrupts and all that.

I wonder if some of our mindsets about missions and evangelism today still reflect the distortions of past (colonialism, HRE stuff) instead of reflecting a more biblical focus. It wouldn't surprise me if this is a case of not knowing our history and continuing to repeat it ad nauseum.

So now I'm really curious about what it means to make disciples.  What does the Great Commission really tell us to do?  what does it mean to make disciples?  Any thoughts?

Today she told me, "Don't give up."

Can she somehow tell how much I want to? Maybe it's a good thing I haven't gotten any of those government jobs.

If I did get offered a good government job, I think I would give up on this dream of teaching college. I would keep writing, I think, because I can't stop, but I wouldn't have to feel guilty about not being published, wouldn't have to keep submitting things or worrying about submitting things because if I'm not trying to get a teaching job by being published (since I can't get any experience), then I don't need to be published. That would be several loads off my mind. Is this laziness?

I would have more time to read and maybe try to see how I could use my love of reading and writing to help foster kids. I could try other dreams, be open to unexpected, new dreams and opportunities. Of course, I would think of myself as a quitter, but the bills would be paid, and I would be more at peace, so the trade-off would be worth it, right?

In Bebo Norman's song "Pull Me Out," there's a line I really love about not knowing if your troubles are a test about holding on or letting go. How do you tell the difference between being stubborn and being tenacious?

I don't think that success is necessarily the criteria because God doesn't promise us success. Is this about my heart? About my attitude? I don't know. Can contentment and ambition live with each other?

Sometimes, you don't get what you want until you stop reaching. A lot of married couples have said that sort of thing recently. "I stopped looking, and then I found him/her." Other happily ended stories are about dogged pursuit. Some sad stories are about not knowing your own limits; others are about giving up too soon. How do you know which situation you're in?

Am I getting more comfortable here in limbo, avoiding the smugness of knowing, of clearly seeing in hindsight?

Today, again, I pray my usual prayer, "Please help me, God." At least, I'm pretty sure that's the right prayer, no matter what the situation.

Love, Judgment

From a Kirkus Review of Sherman Alexie's The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven:

". . . the ability both to judge and to love gives the book its searing yet affectionate honesty."

It seems like in our culture, love and judgment are certainly not supposed to walk hand in hand. They are treated as mutually exclusive. (I wonder if this has anything to do with the difference between civility and political correctness.)

"I can't believe a loving God would condemn anyone to hell." You may have heard that one before. In my mind, I follow it with, "A righteous judge couldn't do anything but condemn people to hell."

I'm people, and I know what I'm like, and I've had some experience observing people. If you believe (and know) the Bible (all of it, not just pieces), I don't really see how you could think any of us pass muster to be declared innocent.

When did judgement and love get as far as the east is from the west? I suppose it was when love became niceness and judgment became a bad word.

Whenever people ask how a loving God could send people to hell, I wonder if they want the legal/justice system in this country to disappear because we need to forgive, not condemn. I'm pretty sure most of them don't because they realize that wouldn't work very well for the law-abiding citizens.

Also, read some Sherman Alexie. That reviewer was right. Somehow Alexie finds the perfect balance of love and judgment, and the honesty will kick you as hard as the affection. It's amazing.




In your opinion, when did judgement and love get so far away from each other?