We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father,
full of grace and truth. John 1:14
I have often said that my spiritual gift is truth-telling. As a matter of fact, when my students dedicated last year’s yearbook to me, they said in the inscription that I was known for being brutally honest. It’s true. I have a pretty quick tongue that often shoots out the truth, brutally, before I have a chance to temper it with grace. It can be painful. I often have to backpedal.
The good news is that if you want to know what I think, just ask me, and I will tell you the truth. In fact, if my words don’t tell you what I think, my face will betray me every time.
“Mrs. Rathje, what do you think of this thesis statement?”
“Well, it doesn’t really say anything.”
“Oh.”
Yeah, I guess I could’ve said that more gently.
“Mom, what do you think of this dress?”
“Well, I guess it looks ok,” (face not matching words).
“Mom, just tell me if you don’t like it!”
So, the good news is, I don’t lie well. I tell the truth. But not always with grace.
When the scripture was read at church this morning, I heard Jesus described as full of grace and truth. I thought to myself, ‘they have to coexist’. We cannot handle the truth unless it is partnered with grace.
Truth: All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.
Grace: God loved the word so much that He sent his one and only Son.
Truth: I sin.
Grace: Jesus saves.
Jesus gets the balance right every time. Me? Not so much. I try to say things like, “You’ve got the right format for a thesis, let’s try to make your purpose more clear.” “This dress is fine, and the other one is even more flattering.” But, you know, that takes a lot of energy and intentionality. And those are the easy conversations.
Conversations get much more difficult than that, don’t they? “You can forgive and even love your father, even though what he did was very wrong.” “God does forgive you and love you, even though you made a huge mistake.” “I am very angry with you, I no longer trust you, and I continue to love you, in spite of those facts.”
I am very quick to point out the truth, but not so quick to add the grace. Thankfully, when I turn to His Word, I always see both. I always see that He is God and I am not. I always see his perfection and my brokenness. I always see His provision for my inadequacy.
I heard a challenge this morning so spend more time in His truth, so that I will be more familiar with His grace. I am up to that challenge.
It’s funny, I just reread my post from yesterday, about doing physical battle against illness. I got to the scripture verse and practically laughed out loud. “Though an army besiege me, my heart will not fear; though a war break out against me, even then will I be confident.”
I am laughing at myself because I was thinking for a minute that the physical battle was the one I needed to be focused on. Oh, silly me. I forget so easily. I stayed lost in that physical battle most of the day. I am still not feeling great, and I had to see my new rheumatologist today, too. I was poked, prodded, examined, and x-rayed. But that was the easy part.
The tougher part was the spiritual/emotional battle that has been subtly building over the last several days. There’s nothing extraordinary going on, really. It’s just that, like everyone else who lives and breathes, I have a steady stream of stuff coming at me. Stuff like daily details, family relationships, health information, … just stuff. Not one piece is overwhelming on its own. Especially not if I carefully lift each item up and release it. But if I hang on to stuff, plot and plan and maneuver it just so, try to own it, try to solve it…then it owns me. It’s psychological warfare. It’s covert. I don’t even know I’m being attacked until I’ve got myself in knots.
The first symptom is usually sarcasm. Little snide comments start slipping out of my mouth. At first I laugh them off, but then, I notice that they are actually painful barbs directed mostly at those closest to me. But this one symptom doesn’t usually get my full attention.
I usually have to progress to midnight wakefulness and fevered internet searching, trying to find the answers to my problems through information, or services, or a job (oy, vey!). It happened again tonight. After sending several emails and searching numerous medical websites, I almost filled out an online form to receive job notifications for Pete’s sake! Like a job, doing more, will actually make me feel better!
Thankfully, I woke up and closed out the screen and turned to my blog. “Ho, hum, if I can’t sleep anyway, I might as well blog…” I read what I wrote yesterday, then I got to the scripture…”Though an army besiege me, my heart will not fear; though a war break out against me, even then will I be confident.”
Oh, yeah, that’s who I am. I am confident. I am the girl whose confirmation verse is Joshua 1:9 “Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord, your God, will be with you wherever you go.” I am the fighter with no earrings and a ponytail who has put on the breastplate of righteousness, the helmet of salvation, the sandals of peace, and the belt of truth. I am carrying the sword of the Spirit.
Come at me.
Emotional/spiritual warfare? You are nothing. I’m not afraid of you. The Lord, my God, is with me wherever I go…and He has promised to “keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in [Him]” (Isaiah 26:3). I trust Him.
I used to get frustrated with students who sat in the writing lab staring at a blank screen.
Guess what I have been doing for almost an hour.
Yup.
Busted.
I’m sitting here in my pajamas, realizing that my cup of tea is almost empty and I have nothing to say.
My students prayed for this moment.
Chester is asleep under my desk. My husband has left for work. The remaining daughter is into her second hour of productivity. And here I sit.
I mean, I have been a little productive. I did send a couple of emails. I did clear a level on Candy Crush that had been giving me trouble. Don’t judge.
I want to start writing about my options for ‘what’s next’, but I am committed to not discussing that at least until September. And it’s only August 26! September 1 is Labor Day, so I can’t very well discuss career options or work on Labor Day! So I am going to have to find something to write about between now and September 2. That is seven whole posts!!!!!!!
Being still is hard!!!
Of course I have to admit that I’m not just sitting in my pajamas playing Candy Crush all day. I have managed to keep up on the laundry, cook a few meals, keep the house relatively orderly, go for walks, and meet new people every day.
And I also have to grudgingly admit that even that has worn me out. I woke up feeling not great today, which tells me I have to take extra care to rest. And that makes me a bit angry. I want to be able to do things. I had big dreams of going to quaint coffee shops to write, of exploring Ann Arbor, of going on adventures. I was hoping for endless possibilities.
But today, I think the reason it’s difficult to write is that reality is jumping up and down in front of me waving its arms. “Hey, Kristin, remember me? Reality? I am the knowledge that you have days like today where you struggle to get out of bed, your joints ache, you are exhausted, and you want to cry. Do you really think you can explore ‘what’s next’ with me standing right here?”
Hey, Reality, you suck.
But, Reality is, after all, reality. I do have days like this. I won’t crawl back into bed, but I will talk myself into doing Pilates, into going for a walk, into taking a break and maybe even a nap. I will look at the people in front of me and be thankful that I have this grace period to breathe and fully evaluate reality.
Only when I fully grasp my new reality will I be able to see what God has next for me.
1 The Lord is my owner/manager, I have everything I need. 2 He provides me with a new pillow-top bed, he gives me a sweet little house beside the Huron, 3 he refreshes my soul. He plans my itinerary to put me in places where I meet the best people at just the right time. 4 Even though He sometimes sends me to places that others consider scary, I have not been afraid, because He goes ahead of me and prepares the way, providing resources and assistance at every turn; His Word and His people comfort me.
5 You shower me with blessings and make me oblivious to any enemies. You fill my fridge with food and my glass with nice red wine, until it overflows. 6 Surely your goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life (I don’t know why I would ever doubt that after all your faithfulness to me) and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever (with some pretty amazing people that have gone before and beside me).
I wrote this piece when citizens were demonstrating in Ferguson in the wake of the Michael Brown killing. Looking back now, I feel so naive. I believed that change was happening, that finally we would see an end to racial violence. Today, in the midst of nation-wide protests over the murder of George Floyd and countless others — I am feeling hopeful again — hopeful that change is gonna come and that the endless disregard for the lives of black and brown people will be something we talk about in history classes and not see on the news. I know that the God who holds us all — the black, the brown, the white — in the same hand is able to bring peace and reconciliation. I want to be part of that change.
I was sound asleep just a little while ago. Something woke me. I reached down to check on Chester, my Golden Retriever who sleeps on a doggy bed on the floor within arm’s reach. His bed was empty.
I don’t know why I reached under my bed, but that is where I found him. In his six and a half years of life, I have only found Chester under the bed one other time…shortly after our son left for the Army. He could sense our distress then; was he sensing distress now?
I checked my phone. Maybe one of my kids texted in the middle of the night with some sort of emergency…I mean, the dog was under the bed…something was not right in the world.
My news feed told me that once again teargas was used in Ferguson, Missouri. In fact, a ninety-year-old Holocaust survivor was arrested for protesting.
What is happening?
From 2005 to June of this year (2014) I taught in a small Christian high school on the north side of St. Louis — two miles from the QT that was burned down in the aftermath of the shooting of Michael Brown. At the time, the school had approximately sixty percent African American students and thirty-five percent white students; the remaining five percent were Asian, Hispanic, or otherwise classified.
The North side of St. Louis has a reputation for being violent and racially divided. Some people are afraid to go there. Some people wondered why I taught there.
But in that space — at that intersection of white and black, urban and suburban, conservative and liberal — we had an opportunity.
My students and I were able to discuss issues in my classroom with humor and candor that might not be discussed outside those walls. The school fosters an open dialogue that values Christian unity amid diversity. My students taught me so much about dispelling stereotypes and respecting difference. They changed me forever.
I am not teaching there this year — the year of a violent police shooting — the year that many of my students go home at night to a broken and hurting Ferguson, the year that some of my grads are demonstrating every night, the year that neighboring public schools have closed in response to the violence. I am not there.
Instead, I have started a new chapter in Ann Arbor, MI — which has a reputation for being inclusive, liberal, conscientious. This morning I went to the post office and was jokingly reprimanded by the African American postal worker who didn’t like me calling him ‘sir’. I smilingly explained to him that I had just moved back to Michigan from a place where using ‘sir’ and ‘ma’am’ is respectful and expected. He smiled knowingly and we wished each other a great day. Then, I exchanged pleasant conversation with the African American cashier at the grocery store who didn’t need to check my ID when I purchased some wine because it was her ‘job to know’ who to card. My nails were done in a salon staffed exclusively by Asian American women who joked with me and my daughter and exchanged smiles with us. I came home to a campus that houses a small but diverse population that, at least on the surface, seems to be respectful and equitable. I didn’t have a hint of racial tension in my day.
Before I went to bed I checked the news and saw peaceful protests in Ferguson, an upbeat interview with the new chief of police there, a statement from President Obama encouraging open dialogue and peaceful resolution. I wanted to believe we were moving in the right direction — that all would soon be right with the world. I went to sleep with Chester on his doggy bed by my side.
But several hours later, I am aware that all is not right in the world tonight — Chester is hiding under my bed. The dog who follows me everywhere, did not budge when I came to the living room at two in the morning to write. He, like many tonight, is distressed.
I, too, am distressed. This — racism, violence against people of color, inequitable policing, systemic disparity — has gone on too long. People I know and love are hurting, protesting, putting themselves in harm’s way for the sake of change.
Like Job, I “weep for those in trouble.” As I “hope for good, evil comes,” As I “look for light, then comes darkness” (Job 30:25-27).
But even in trouble, even in darkness, God is still God. He is in Ferguson; He is in Ann Arbor. And “He who watches over us will not slumber” (Psalm 121:3). Right now He is keeping watch. I pray that Ferguson, and those that I love there, will one day feel free to sleep in peace.
Resources for learning about/building racial equity:
Teaching Tolerance – free resources for educators “to supplement the curriculum, to inform their practices, and to create civil and inclusive school communities where children are respected, valued and welcome participants.”
Also, there are many places that could use your donations right now, but I’ll suggest two schools that I am aware of that foster racial dialogues and provide strong educational opportunities of students of color:
Today is a detail day — schedule the oil change, get the groceries, call the university, fold the laundry, etc. I have lots to do…actually lots to do all week long.
These details were a bit overwhelming last night when we had just returned from dropping off the baby at college eight hours away. And, I’m a little irritated at the moment that I can’t just lie around and mope. Already I am laughing at myself.
It’s all by God’s design isn’t it? He knew in advance that I would be a little torn up today — worrying, grieving, overthinking — so he made sure my plate was full for a bit. It’s all good stuff — family visiting tonight through Friday, an appointment with a specialist, some cooking, some cleaning, and definitely some writing.
I will find some time in the midst of the details to grieve a little, to wallow a little, to mope a little. But, I will have to wipe the tears and drag myself out of bed to get a few things done.
After all, one daughter is still here! In fact, she greeted us last night when we returned from our trip with a warm dinner and lots of energy! I couldn’t bring myself to write a grocery list, but she could. I was overwhelmed at the thought of laundry, but she had it started! God’s design. He knew that if they were all gone at once, I would be overcome by loneliness. He’s easing me into the empty nest.
My niece is coming to visit tonight, bringing more energy into our home. Two twenty-one year olds full of possibility and promise — they will take a road trip tomorrow! What fun! They will leave me here to write, think, rest, and grieve for a couple of days, then they will bring their energy back.
Do you see that detail? God was setting up the details ahead of time, taking care of me, knowing exactly what I needed. He knew I needed to do for a little while and then be for a little while. He knew I needed people in my house for a while. He knew what I needed before I even asked. He’s got August taken care of, so that I can face September. He’s always looking out for me, and for you.
The Lord is my rock, my fortress, and my deliverer;
my god is my rock, in whom I take refuge,
my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.
On Monday (August 26, 2019) I wrote that Change is Constant. Since then, even more change has happened in my everyday life. I’ve unearthed this post first written in August 2014 to remind myself of all the changes we’ve lived through and been changed by as a family — to remind myself that change brings the potential for transformation.
On December 21, 1989, when my husband proposed to me, he said, “Things are going to get busy for a while.” He wasn’t kidding.
In the last 25 years we have lived in eleven different homes, parented four children (giving birth to three within three years!), earned three Master’s degrees, taught hundreds of students, driven thousands of miles, and attended dozens of churches. Things have indeed been busy!
We have experienced lots of change–as individuals, and as a family. At first, I braced myself for change and tried to ‘get through’ it, but I’ve come to realize that change is our constant and bracing myself all the time just leaves me exhausted.
Although steeling myself against change is still my initial reaction, I’ve learned that when I lean in, change goes more smoothly. It can even be pleasant — invigorating.
In fact, early in our marriage, my husband really enjoyed reorganizing all the furniture in the house. He would get an idea to rotate all the bedrooms — all in one day! The master bedroom would become the kids’ dorm. The girls’ room would become the den. It would be an all-day project. I know it sounds like lots of work, but we always liked the outcome — a fresh start, a new perspective.
When the kids were in elementary school, we spent many hours investigating and discussing before we decided to move them from a parochial to a public school. One school was not better than the other, but they were very different. It was a huge change. My husband and I felt it was the right decision, so we acted. It was a huge transition for the kids; you’d have to ask them how they feel about that choice now. Each would probably answer differently, especially since the very next year, we not only switched their schools again, we moved them to an entirely different state! A different time zone! A different — sweatier –climate!
That move meant not only a change in school, but a change from the only church they had ever known — where they were all born, rocked, sung to, cuddled. We all looked shell-shocked for a couple of years. It was a lot of change.
While there, in Missouri, we made so many deep friendships. I would not trade that time for anything. But, at times, it was like living through a deployment. We encountered a new culture, we soldiered through difficulties, we sustained some injuries, and we’ve never been the same.
Change changes us.
I am not the person I was on December 21, 1989. Thank goodness!! Neither is my husband. Thank goodness!! All of this busy-ness, all of these changes, have transformed us.
When we were at one of our first congregations, with all our babies, a dear friend said, “I see you guys as a diamond in the rough–the outside is being chiseled away to reveal that beautiful inside.” I may have been a little offended at the moment, but I now treasure the fact that she saw some potential under the rough exterior that we wore back in our twenties.
I’d like to think that the changes we have endured have chiseled away some stubbornness, some judgmental attitudes, some close-mindedness, but we aren’t done yet. Change is our constant. And, even today, as I find myself in the midst of great change, I lean in. I know that these changes, too, will be transformative, and I am not afraid.
So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day.
Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, a young mother, looking frazzled and exhausted from caring for her brood of small children walked into church carrying an infant and being trailed by two toddlers. A wise, older woman smiled at her tenderly and said, “Treasure this time, dearie, the years will just fly by.”
The young mother, being polite, smiled and nodded, but on the inside she thought to herself, “The years may fly by, but these minutes are exhausting!”
Indeed they were exhausting, and lovely. Many years have passed, and that infant in the mother’s arms is packed and loaded for college…five hundred miles away. The toddlers? One is a soldier, seven hundred miles away, the other a college-grad, launching a life six hundred miles away. Their older brother? A soon-to-be father, dedicated husband, and businessman two hundred and fifty miles away.
And the mother is remembering that smiling older woman, thinking “she was so right.” The years have flown by. The babies are grown. They are leaving the nest.
And as I sit in this soon-to-be-empty nest, I am filled with thankfulness for these loud, crazy, brilliant, beautiful children that God has loaned to me for a while. It hasn’t all been hearts and flowers, but it has been rich and life-changing. And it’s just beginning!
We are all starting our next chapter — college, career, service, parenthood, and whatever else the Lord has planned. It is a very exciting time, filled with so much emotion. We are excited, anxious, sad, happy, exhilarated….
Last night we had a rare moment where five of us were connected by Skype, laughing and smiling. I drank it in. I have been so blessed to have these amazing humans inhabit my nest. I know they will periodically land here. I look forward to it.
Imagine me lying on an inflatable raft and floating down a river on a beautiful Michigan day. That is how life has been the last couple of days. With this full house, I have refrained from creating my everyday to-do list. And I have been trying something different — going with the flow.
Going with the flow has meant staying up until 1:00 am or later — two nights in a row. It has meant that yesterday I woke up at 10:20 am! I have written my blog in the middle of the night. I have eaten a warm kale, cilantro, black bean salad created by one daughter and black bean (gluten-free) brownies created by the other daughter. I have gone on a walk with Chester, started a Grisham book, and watched Sabrina. I took a walk on campus which equated to a walk down memory lane.
Sounds pretty lovely, doesn’t it? So, I wonder if I will allow myself to go with the flow a little more often.
This goes back to my doing v. being still theme. I am trying to explore the fact that doing and being still do not have to be in opposition. The two can co-exist. In fact, in all my floating around yesterday, I did get my migraine-suffering daughter in to see an acupuncturist and also discovered that two miles from our new home is the leading migraine headache clinic in the nation. Yes, while floating, we got her a comprehensive appointment for next week.
But I didn’t really accomplish anything else. This is new for me, the one who has measured my value by the number of things I get done and how well I do them. It is new for me to see the overgrown flower bed and acknowledge that I want to do something to it without jumping right up and tearing out the weeds right away. It is new for me to be comfortable co-existing with the unfinished, unsettled, unpolished.
But floating is nice. See how sparkly the water is? Hear the wind blowing?
Right now I am sitting in my adirondack chair on my porch, looking at the scene in the photo above. Coffee was just delivered to me. Tomorrow we pack up our daughter to move to college, but today I am going to continue to float.
Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.
Even though my house is full, I am very aware of those who are missing…my sons. Thankfully, we were able to see our oldest son and his wife over the weekend, but our younger son serves in the military and we haven’t seen or talked to him in a while. He let us know on Sunday that he is fine and that we’ll hear more in a couple of days, but having seen the other 3/4 of our kids this week, I am feeling his absence.
Each one of our children is unique, aren’t they? Even if they are close in age, and raised under very similar circumstances, each one has his or her unique DNA, unique expression of that DNA, unique self. And when all of that uniqueness combines, it is magical. I often say that dinner with our whole family is not for the faint of heart. It is a fast-paced, laughter-filled, exchange of information that few can track for any length of time. You kind of have to grow into it.
Spending time with any one of our children, or any particular combination of two or three or more is a blessing. And each combination is different — the oldest alone, the older two together, the youngest alone, the younger two together, the middles together, the boys together, the girls together — and fabulous in its own way. Each solo or combination is like a favorite song — I love to hear it and want to play it over and over.
But of all my favorite songs, my favorite-favorite is the song of all of my kids together under one roof, making all their particular sounds together.
I imagine that is what heaven will be like for God. He will have us all together — all ages, genders, races, ethnicities, socio-economic statuses — and he will rejoice to hear us all together.
And just like I am thinking about the one I am missing, even while the others are with me, God pursues those who are missing, and desires them to come home and be under His roof, joining in his favorite-favorite song.
For this reasons, He is likely to ‘leave the ninety-nine, and go in search of the one.’ He loves each one. I am one. You are one.
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