Isaiah 30:15

In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength.

Every morning I am amazed.  I crawl out of bed and struggle through my morning routine: feed the dog, make a smoothie, brew some tea, take my meds, check my email, and read my Bible study. Then, I sit down in front of my laptop and think, well, what am I going to write today?  And I amazed that every day something happens!

I never know what is going to be the spark.  Sometimes it is a specific part of my Bible reading.  Sometimes it is an event that is happening or has happened. Sometimes I start typing and have no idea where it is going.

This morning I had an idea to explore more about why I jump so quickly to survival mode — combat gear on, kicking butts and taking names.  But then I sat down at my laptop, and saw a Facebook post from a pastor friend.  Isaiah 30:15 “In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength.”  I made a quick comment on his post and was going to let it go at that, but then I was transported back in time.

In 1996 I was at home with three small children.  They were aged 3, under 2, and newborn.  If ever there was a time that the combat gear was on, that was it.  I was determined to be the perfect mother.  I was doing everything right.  I was consulting all the right books, attending a mother’s Bible study, nursing my baby, reading books to my kids, cooking everything from scratch, clipping coupons, … and I was sinking.  Fast.  This survivor found it very difficult to survive.

So, I reached out for help.  A friend was a counselor and he agreed to talk to me. I believe I entered his office spurting out the injustices of my life and how difficult it was and why wasn’t anyone helping me and surely this was someone else’s fault!  He listened to me for a while and probably made some suggestions.  I am imagining I shot them all down.  I vented in that office just a few times.  I can only imagine what it looked like.  I envision the counselor/friend covered in word vomit as I spewed forth all kinds of ugliness.

I remember three things from those sessions together.

• He drew a picture of stick-figure me standing on a cliff overhanging rocks of fear and said that faith was being willing to swing over to other side, knowing that God would sustain me and not let me crash on the rocks.
• He had me read out loud Deuteronomy 10:16 “Circumcise your heart, therefore, and do not be stiff-necked any longer.” Ouch.
• Then he had me read and memorize Isaiah 30:15, “In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength.”

Man, he saw right through all of my spewing and cut to the heart of the matter, didn’t he?

I was afraid.  Very afraid.  I wanted to do this thing right.  I wanted to be everything my kids needed.  What if I did something wrong?

I was so stiff-necked/stubborn.  That gear was strapped on.  I was on a mission, doggone it, so get out of my way.

I did need to repent and rest in the palm of His hand.  If I could just trust God, He would be my strength.

Well….I wish I could say that I heard him in 1996 and immediately changed my ways, submitted to God, and we all lived happily ever after.

But, you already know the rest of the story.  You know that the combat gear has been on for quite some time.  You know that I am just beginning to figure out how the stuff comes off.  I have just barely set down my battering ram.

In about 1999/2000 I remember driving the kids to school, praying with them, helping them put on the helmet of salvation, breastplate of righteousness, sandals of the gospel of peace, belt of truth, … and I was putting those things on me, too.  Every morning.  But I skipped a step.  I forgot to take off the combat gear of survival and self-sufficiency.  It’s really difficult to wear two uniforms at once.  Very difficult to serve two masters.  I think that’s in the Bible.  Just sayin’.

I’ll be over here, repenting and resting.

I’ve gotta go a little further with the desert analogy, so that I don’t misrepresent the character of God.  Even if that means that I reveal more of the character of me.  This may get a little ugly.

We went to the seminary ten years ago, at a time when many of the costs of seminary were ‘covered’.  We did not have to go into great debt for my husband to get his Master’s of Divinity.  In fact, we did not incur any student debt while we were there — for four years.  Let me go a little further to say that before we left for seminary, we sold our house in Michigan, which enabled us to pay all our bills and go to seminary debt-free, with money in the bank.  Not a lot of money, but enough to ensure that I could spend the summer getting acclimated with our children instead of going straight to work.  God, the one I chose later not to talk to for a while, had arranged for us to follow his call without experiencing financial hardship.  Most pastors have not had this experience.

When we got to the seminary, I started looking for work, and I applied for a Missouri teaching certificate.  In order to get this, I had to first renew my Michigan teaching certificate, which I hadn’t really used in over ten years.  I had to contact former employers who verified my employment, pay some money, and wait to see what happened.  Although I had had a ‘provisional’ certificate in Michigan, and not really enough experience to validate the granting of a ‘professional’ certificate, some glitch in the system (or, more likely, some act of God) produced a ‘professional’ certificate within a matter of a couple of months.  This ‘professional’ certificate, when submitted to the state of Missouri, let me bypass the regular Missouri system of test-taking to obtain a ‘professional’ certificate. Within six months of arriving in Missouri, I was licensed and ready to teach.  All of the Missouri teachers are shaking their heads right now and thinking to themselves, “How did this happen?”  Not only that, within four years of teaching in Missouri, I was granted a ninety-nine year certificate.  Yeah, God, the one who was holding me in the palm of His hand, while I envisioned myself in a desert singularly fighting battles, made sure that I had the credentials I needed to do what he had planned next.

What was next was six months of boot camp in the inner city schools of St. Louis that changed the trajectory of my career and reshaped my ways of thinking about instruction. In this place, God gave me lesson after lesson in how the relationship is more important than the teaching.  The students were more important than the content. The hearts more meaningful than the grades.  And, I thought that was all about the students.

Then He lifted, almost literally lifted, me out of that bootcamp and plunked me down in a school full of seasoned professionals so that those lessons I learned in the city could be reinforced and practiced and shared.  With students and with teachers.

And I didn’t fully acknowledge his hand holding me.

Right now I am speechless.

Now, I will admit that although my professional life was pretty spectacular and definitely ordered by God, my personal life was a bit chaotic.  And that chaos was the cause of me shaking my fist at God and saying, “Fine then, I guess I better strap on the battle gear and take care of this myself.”

And He had to be just looking down at me, in the palm of his hand, lovingly shaking his head, and saying, “Ok.  Do what you must, but I really am right here, carrying you.”

All my fighting did, I can see now, was wear me out, and probably make some of the situations even more complicated than they were to begin with.

Sigh.

So, here I am, acknowledging that I am in the palm of His hand.  Watching the deer out my window as I write this.  Trying to be still.  Trying to trust that God, who has always taken care of me in the past, always carried me, always provided for me and my family, will surely continue to do much more than I can ask or imagine.  That is His character.  I think you got a glimpse at mine, too.  Sorry about that.

Ephesians 3:20-21

Now to Him who is able [and willing, and likely] to do immeasurably more

than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us,

to Him be the glory…

For a period of time, I was in a spiritual desert.  I was, I am embarrassed to say, not on ‘speaking terms’ with God.  Yes, you read that right.  I am a life-long Christian, a church worker, a wife of a pastor, and I was, in my personal life, giving God the silent treatment.

I won’t tell you how long this went on for, but let’s just say a long time.  I knew it would end.  Eventually.  I didn’t even really hate being in the desert, I just accepted it as a matter of course.  While I was walking around in the dryness, I didn’t mind praying publicly for others, or even asking others for prayer, but I wasn’t interested in talking to God personally for myself.  It was like we had a business relationship, but not a friendship.  I would work for Him, but I wasn’t really going to give Him the satisfaction of talking to Him like a daughter.

Have I mentioned before that I have a stubborn streak?

I am not really sure what started this silent treatment, but it began at the Seminary.  (I have said many times that if you want to see your faith tested, or if you don’t believe in spiritual warfare, go to the seminary.) It was, for me, a time of survival.  My husband was studying like mad, trying to learn ancient languages in his 40s. Our kids were going through many changes as pre-adolescents and adolescents.  I was working full-time for the first time as a mom.  Money was tight.  Time was tighter.

As I look back, it’s like I can envision myself jumping out of bed each morning, strapping on my combat gear, and battling through whatever the day brought me.

Like any good soldier, in order to survive, I had to make sacrifices.  Relationships were sacrificed.  I didn’t take time to build friendships.  I shortchanged my children, leaving mere scraps for my husband. And God?  He wasn’t going anywhere.  I was busy.  I had surviving to do.

And to be honest, I am not sure which came first — the desert or the surviving.  Yes, I am.  My choice, conscious or unconscious, to survive, led me into the desert where I wandered, jaw fixed and fists clenched, for way too long.  My eyes were darting around, daring circumstances to ‘come at me’.

It would have been a lot easier on me and everyone in my family to realize that I was actually not in a desert, but in the palm of HIs hand.  You know, then I could have rested, even in the busy-ness.  I could have trusted instead of trampling.  I could have surrendered the fight because He had assured the victory.

But that’s not how it happened.  I strapped on my gear and went into the desert.  I know I was there because recently I have begun to experience a few oasis moments. I have begun to rest by the water and have my soul restored.

But lest you think that I willingly came out of the desert on my own, I am going to have to admit that I was pulled out of combat because of physical and spiritual fatigue.  And sometimes, I think I should actually still be there, you know, surviving.

But, my Commanding Officer has ordered me to rest and be still.  And, I know I need it.  I’ve been listening to Him a lot more lately.  I’m even considering having Him over for coffee.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

…he makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside still waters

he restores my soul…

Psalm 23: 2

Last Friday morning, at about this time, we were preparing to take our oldest daughter to the airport.  The nest was just about empty.  I had no plans on the horizon…no idea how I was going to spend this past week.  I envisioned a lot of reading, TV watching, and walking.

And that has all happened, but I did not expect a simple chain of events.  And that chain has made the difference in my week.

At the end of the football game last Saturday, my husband introduced me to the wife of a friend that he has grown close to over the last year.  It was a quick interchange, but she took my number and said she would call to arrange a ‘play date’.  People do that all the time, you know.  I do it myself.  I tell people I am going to have them to dinner, or meet them for coffee, and I really mean to.  But then I get busy, you know, reading books and watching TV and going on walks.  I don’t follow through.

But she did.

She actually called on Monday and we made plans for Tuesday.  Somewhere during our chatting and shopping and eating on Tuesday, she asked if I’d like to go to a Bible study on Wednesday.  Seeing as I had no plans whatsoever, I agreed.  I haven’t been in a women’s Bible study in a few years.  I’ve been pretty busy doing stuff, you know…packing and moving and teaching and grading and parenting.  And, I hadn’t made it a priority.

The Bible study met in a local church — one that I had worshipped in several times as a college student and again a few times as an adult.  It was familiar. Around the table were sixteen women.  As we went around the table and introduced ourselves, I couldn’t help but wonder, “how am I going to be impacted by each of these women?”  This is how it starts, isn’t it?  We all have stories, “Well, I met Win way back in 1994.  I was at church, holding a baby, walking in the lobby because he was fussy. We’ve been friends ever since.”

Right now I know nothing about them, other than where they sat at the table, a little two or three sentence bio that each shared, and what they look like. But I know we are all walking through 1 and 2 Thessalonians together.  I know we all have committed to daily Bible study and prayer.  And I know that the “Word of God is living and active, sharper than any double-edged sword.”

Last Friday, I was driving my daughter to the airport.  This Friday, I did my homework for my Bible study and thought about sixteen women that I didn’t know a week ago.  I didn’t know them because I hadn’t yet gone to the Bible study, or gone out for a play date, or met a new friend, or gone to a football game.

One thing leads to another.  I wonder what is next.

Romans 8:28

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him,

who have been called according to his purpose.

“Grace to you and peace.”

That is what Paul, Silas, and Timothy said to the church at Thessalonia.

Just breathe that in for minute, as though it is meant for you.  “Grace to you and peace.”

Ahhhhhh.

Grace, undeserved favor.  Have you experienced any of that in your life?  I sure have.  I’ve raved ad nauseum about how blessed I am at this moment to have six months, or more, of rest.  To be living by the Huron River, with deer grazing in my back yard.  To have the time to read and write and recover.  But I have a longer list of undeserved favor: twenty-four years of marriage, four (plus one) healthy kids and a grandkid on the way, friends by the dozen, loving family, plenty of everything we need and want,…

Do you have a list?  Do you have so many blessings that it sometimes overwhelms you?  That’s grace.  Undeserved favor.

And peace.  Tranquility, absence of strife, contentment.  Why, if I am flooded with grace, do I not always embrace peace?  Why do I choose to mull over every little detail, stressing myself out over every little misstep I have made, every little unknown in my life.  Sure, I’ve got healthy kids, but what if they aren’t taking care of themselves? Yes, I have this time to take a break and rest, but shouldn’t I really be looking for a job. Come on, who really takes six months to just rest?

Grace is a gift.  Peace, perhaps, is the acknowledgment of that gift.  You have given me twenty-four years of marriage?  Ahhhhh.  Thank you.  Let me just absorb that for a minute.  I have supportive friends across the country? Wow.  Thank you.  Let me rest in that.  I get to spend the next six months resting, writing, recovering?  Really?  Are you serious? I embrace it.  Thank you.  I am content in this moment

So, grace be multiplied to you. His undeserved favor, his outpouring of unconditional love that knows what you need before you ask, overwhelm you.  And peace, that knowledge that He is indeed holding you in the palm of his hand, carrying you through whatever it is at the moment, and knowing what is next for you and for me, surround you.

Grace to you and peace.

Philipians 4:7

And the peace that passes all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.

Yesterday when I clicked ‘publish’ on this blog, I got a notification that I had just published my 50th post. Whoa.  I did something for fifty days in a row.  More or less.  I think I missed a couple of days in all this transition, but nevertheless, I have posted 50 times!  

And guess, what?  I like it!  Blogging has been, during this transition, a connection to those outside of my little house by the river, a way to ensure that I process my daily Bible reading, a log of my life, and a replacement for therapy.  Some of you have said that you enjoy it, too.  So, thanks for going on this journey with me. I hope it will continue for however long it is supposed to.  

I wish I knew how to translate this into a career, but each day I wake up and think I won’t have anything else to say.  That day is coming!  Also, it’s kind of precious to me that we have embarked on this journey for the pure sake of the journey.  I’d hate to commercialize it.  I keep hearing Holden Caulfield in my head.  

So, in the next little bit, I am going to share with you some of the ideas I have for what is next.  I am enjoying, as I often say, being a kept woman. However, we are young, we have bills to pay and a retirement to plan for.  I do plan to re-enter the work force.  I just don’t know what it will look like.  So, let’s start with a brainstorm of possibilities.  

• Apply for the PhD program in English and Education at the University of Michigan…I am fascinated by how the language of our homes impacts our access to education.  U of M has an excellent program that would support my interest.  Pros: Extremely close to home, super interesting, paid position Cons: Wolverines, highly selective program (I may not get in), not sure I’ve got the physical/mental steam to do a PhD, demanding schedule, less flexibility
• Apply to teach English Composition at Washtenaw Community College as an adjunct…the reason I got my Master’s degree was so that I could teach college composition.  I did that at Jackson Community College before we moved and at St. Charles Community College after we moved.  I also taught college composition at Lutheran North.  Pros: Extremely close to home, working in my expertise, paid position, discount on health club membership (!), high likelihood that I would be hired Cons: The stack
• Apply for a totally different position — not related to English or writing at all — just a way to meet people and get fodder for my writing. I imagine a coffee house (though it’s difficult for me to be on my feet all day), or a bookstore, or a library…Pros: low stress, no stack, meet people outside our circle, can walk away at any time Cons: lower pay, not using my expertise, potentially more physically demanding
• Apply for an airport job.  This sounds crazy, but I was talking with an old friend who works there and my brain screamed — “free flights!!” Our kids are in four different states and we are about to have a grandbaby.  I don’t know what in the world I would do at an airport, but “free flights!!” Pros: free flights! paid position Cons: twenty minute drive to work, stress, physically demanding?
• Then there are all the free-lance things I could do: writing, tutoring, editing, consulting, etc.  Pros: totally my schedule Cons: totally my schedule, running my own business, keeping records, yuck.

It’s September 9, 2014.  The earliest I plan to work is January 9, 2014.  I have four months left to be still. I am almost expecting that God will place the perfect opportunity in front of me, that I will know it is from Him, and I will say out loud, “You had this planned the whole time!”  But the doer inside of me is nagging me to complete the application to the PhD program that I started last year at this time. The doer keeps going to online job postings.  

Sigh. 

Today, I am going to be still. And pray. And enjoy this grace period. January will be here soon enough. 

Proverbs 19:21

Many are the plans in a person’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails.

John 6: 68

Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. 

My daughter leaves on a missionary internship today.  Part of her enculturation process is that she will have to be technology-free (no phone, no internet, no television, etc.) for SIX WEEKS with the exception of Sundays.  On Sundays she can use her phone to call us, or post on Facebook, or post an entry on the blog she has created.  But for the other six days of the week, she will be unplugged. 

We have joked a bit over the last couple of days about what it will be like when she has a question and she can’t go to Google for her answer.  Think about it.  How often do you Google something during the average day?  What would you do if you needed to know, say, where the nearest Target was, and you couldn’t Google it? 

Why, children, back in my day, if we wanted to know where something was, we asked someone. Yes, a real human being.  You might get a response like, “Well, you head west on M-46 until you see the Big Boy.  Turn left there.  It’s about three-quarters of a mile down the road. You can’t miss it.” (**To my Gratiot County friends, a girl can dream, can’t she?)

Sometimes we wrote the directions down, but more often, we recited them back, “M-46 to the Big Boy, take a left, three-quarters of  mile.  Thanks!” After we’d driven to a certain location a few times, it was committed to memory.  It was likely that we gave similar to directions to the next guy who needed to find the Target. 

I learned most things this way, by someone telling me. I learned how to French braid my hair, how to cook McDonald’s French fries, how to drive a car (Thanks, Roger), and how to fill out a 1040EZ tax form.  Someone told me, and likely showed me. 

I think that is the point of MissionYear telling its interns that they have to put the technology away for six weeks.  MissionYear’s strategy is for the volunteers to immerse themselves in the community, to make connections, and build relationships.  It’s a little easier to build relationships when you actually speak to people.  When we walk around with our faces in our phones, finding our own answers, we don’t have to interact, don’t have to ask for help, don’t have to rely on anyone else.  

It’s the American way. 

Sometimes we have to do something a little counter-culture.  We have to put the phone down.  We have to ask someone how to find the nearest Target.  Sometimes, they not only give us directions, but they walk along beside us for part of the way.  They ask us our names.  They ask where we’ve been.  They want to know our story. 

Google doesn’t care about your story.  Just sayin’. 

Now, I’m not suggesting that we all put down our phones and close up our laptops.  They have become permanent fixtures in our society, and they, too, are vehicles for connection.  Exhibit A, this blog.  However, perhaps today before you consult Google you might first ask a real human.  You never know, they may have the answer.  They may have a story.  They may share.  Just sayin’.

Psalm 5:11

Let all who take refuge in you be glad; let them ever sing for joy. 

Spread your protection over them, that those who love your name may rejoice in you.