Comfort in Dismay

Usually, I love them.

They start immediately after Thanksgiving pie, once it's officially Christmastime. 

But, all the upbeat Christmas songs feel like sandpaper on my skin this year. Not the hymns, not the traditional carols. But the holly jolly, ho-ho-ho, jingle bell-y ones I simply can't enjoy. Grandma got run over, Rudolph, Frosty, Santa Baby. (Don't get me started on the romantic Christmas songs. Serious ouch.)

There's nothing wrong with those songs. There's nothing wrong with the magical, much-anticipated traditions of Christmas, little children jingling bells, hair combed carefully, wearing patent leather shoes and their dressiest clothes for the Christmas concert.

I have little ones. We will be visiting the real Santa Claus at his beach house nearby soon. Our Elf-on-the-shelf is still doing his thing this year. 

It's not that.

It's just hard to enter into the lighthearted, hot cocoa, peppermint stick, twinkle-lights kind of magic of Christmas now.

Not this year.

What do you do with suffering and grief at Christmastime? How do we reconcile threat, danger, heartbreak, disaster, abandonment, trauma, betrayal, loss, fear, devastation, and broken relationships with Christmas? What about war, famine, disease, murder, the slaughter of little children and those trying to protect them in Connecticut? Unthinkable pain! Unimaginable grief!


How valuable, imperative really, are those friends who are able to share the agony, to share our weeping with us, to walk with us through suffering? Grief shared brings such comfort. Aren't you drawn towards that friend who can ease and calm and selflessly help, for the friend who knows when to talk and when to be silent, who groans with you.

And that is what Jesus came to bring. Comfort. Emmanuel. God with us.

This year, I'm hearing the lyrics of the great carols as if for the first time.

Long lay the world
In sin and error pining
Til HE appeared
And the soul felt its worth

My cousin reminded me about the comma placement in "God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen." She said, "This carol is not talking to merry gentlemen. Quite the reverse, in fact. This hymn is tidings (news) of comfort and joy to those who are in dismay. 'Remember, Christ our Savior was born on Christmas Day to save us all from Satan's power when we were gone astray.' True celebration of Christmas doesn't ignore evil in the world; it acknowledges that our world is in such a state that only a child born to us who can rightly be called Mighty God can give light to those walking in darkness." (M. H. Price)

Christ came to enter into our suffering, to be with us, to share in our trials, and to endure humiliation, rejection, judgment, scorn, threat, and a terrible death meant to shame and destroy Him, and all to redeem us from our sin bringing us comfort and JOY!

What LOVE! 

Yesterday was our 22nd anniversary. The first non-iversary. I feel like a widow. Grieving. Exhausted. Fearful. As well as rejected. Shamed. Abandoned. And yet, the Lord Jesus is here. Near. Bringing comfort. Emmanuel. God with me. 

"The Lord is close to the brokenhearted

And saves those who are crushed in spirit."

Ps 34.18

"O come, O come, Emmanuel

And ransom captive Israel

That mourns in lonely exile here

Until the Son of God appear.

Rejoice! Rejoice! 

Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel.

"Come, Thou long expected Jesus

Born to set Thy people free

From our fears and sins release us

Let us find our rest in Thee."

"Be near me, Lord Jesus, I ask Thee to stay

Close by me forever, and love me, I pray.

Bless all the dear children in Thy tender care,

And fit us for Heaven, to live with Thee there."

Disjointed Thoughts In Green Pastures

"Well, I'm gonna get out of bed every morning... breathe in and out all day long. Then, after a while I won't have to remind myself to get out of bed every morning and breathe in and out... 

and, then after a while, I won't have to think about how I had it great and perfect for a while."

~Sam, Sleepless In Seattle

OK, so I never had it great and perfect like Sam and Maggie Baldwin (Who does?), but there were a lot of great and perfect memories over the years, and there were so very many more great and perfect hopes and promises. The losses of this year, the complete demolishment of all of those hopes and promises have left me raw and reeling. Still. And wishing that weren't the case... feeling that I am somehow failing at this... wishing I were stronger... cried less... weren't so weak. 

There are "up" days. Joy. Truly happy times with my friends and children. And such wonderful, tender comfort from the Lord. 

But, I've needed a lot rest during this season. I'm discovering the worship within grief and the thanksgiving within weakness.

The Lord is my shepherd, 
I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures
He leadeth me beside quiet waters
He restoreth my soul
He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His Name's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of death, 
I will fear no evil
For Thou art with me
Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies
Thou anointest my head with oil
My cup runneth over
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life
And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
~Psalm 23

"He makes me lie down in green pastures"... Why does He have to make me? What is it that makes us (well, I'm speaking for myself here) feel like we should be able to be dealt crises or disaster and get right on up and continue in our efficiency?

We're not supposed to do that. We don't expect someone who just lost a child to cancer to be out hanging the Christmas lights the next day. We aren't shocked when a new widow doesn't immediately host the girl scouts potluck. We're not stunned if our friend who just found out her husband has had a lover for years isn't simultaneously meal planning, coupon clipping, and shopping at Trader Joe's while preparing to teach the women's Bible study.

That would alarm us, right? Like, "Oh, sweetie, you need to sit down and let me take care of you now - I insist, honey" kind of alarm. So, why feel frustrated that I'm aching, disoriented, and painfully aware of every bone and sinew like someone who just woke up in the hospital after a car crash?

This is the ICU. This place. Right here. Right now.


The note on my bedside table says:

Get out of bed.
Get in the Word.
Take a shower.
Eat real food.
Exercise.
Do something for someone else.
Laugh.
Go to bed at a decent hour.

I need this note because otherwise I'd just walk into walls. 

My son will not see me. My son. My heart walking around outside my body. He won't speak to me. And so, this is a season of walking into walls.

"A time to weep and a time to laugh

A time to mourn and a time to dance."

Ecclesiastes 3.4

So, why does God have to hog-tie us to get us to lie down in green pastures for Heaven's sake? 

One of the toughest things about a little time going by is that more and more people know. And more friends have been entrusted with a few details to pray with me and for our family. But, sometimes talking about things that up until now have been between me, God, and a very select group of prayer warriors opens up a can of... train wreck.

(By the way, if you really, really need a good old fashioned cryfest, please and by all means you have my blessing to watch "Beaches", "Steel Magnolias", "Marley & Me", or "The Champ", but never, ever, and I mean, never watch "The Way We Were" if you're in the middle of separation or divorce. Trust me.)

Anyway, right now I'm called to rest. Not to try to make too much of each day or accomplish too much. Just walk with God. Bring Him my prayers with thanksgiving for His goodness and mercy. Let Him tend to my heart.

Just breathe in and out all day long. 

"He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds."

Psalm 147.3

Being Made New

Zakale 

is the Swahili word 

for what has been thrown away 

being made new again. 

Beauty for ashes.

The life we had is over, but it's still so fresh that it feels like I'm standing right next to it naked and out of sorts. It's strange and scary to be in this "new normal" when I feel like the former is just right beside me, close enough to touch.

My old life is still so close I can still even hear, taste, and smell it.

Cranberry-orange candles burning. "Our" favorite restaurants, vacation spots, TV shows, bands. Sharing spinach-artichoke dip and negotiating over the last bite. Making cookies together turned into making whoopee in the kitchen. The first time he called me a bad word and slammed the door in my face. In the later years, realizing I became anxious whenever his car drove into the driveway like an angry hurricane was heading in. And yet, there was the way our hands fit together. Perfectly. The years of hurt and alienation and the inability to communicate. Sitting in front of the fire getting our intertwined bare feet toasty, sharing a dram of scotch, and talking about nothing at all. Being side-by-side and yet feeling so alone. Finding a text that split me in half. Discovering betrayals. But also Christmas Eve champagne together with just the tree lights on. And making out in elevators. And wishing he'd look lustfully at me instead of flirting with our size-0 friend with big boobs. 

God, I hate that I was thrown away!

And, yet I know that You are greater than betrayal and abandonment. Bigger than the ashes. You are the God Who makes all things new. 

Waves of grief and crying catch me off guard. Going to places I normally would have gone alone alone, but going this time for the first time really aloooone. (That probably made no sense.) Learning to say "I" instead of "we". I thought we were going to be a "we" and an "us" forever. 

And then there's the stuff you really need a guy for -- heavy boxes, moving things, reaching the platter on the top shelf, cleaning up the gross things (except vomit - He could not deal with barf which was both hilarious and annoying.), investigating scary noises in the dark, that kind of thing. (I'm not even addressing the sex issue because that's a whole post all by itself.)

But, you know what has also been springing up from time to time? JOY that catches me off guard, too. Actual JOY! Like, very clearly Holy Spirit JOY! At unexpected moments. At strange times.

Cruel words spoken -- JOY that I held back a response!

A request for financial support denied -- JOY that I know in my knower that God will provide!

Taking the deep loneliness to God -- JOY in His presence!

Pressing in to uncovering and dealing with my sin & brokenness -- JOY in knowing that the Lord is healing me, strengthening me, being with me!

I started seeing our old marriage counselor again. She is an amazing woman of God who reminds me of a Jewish auntie, all funky jewelry, tender hand-holding, Yiddish commentary, sweet perfume, and wisdom. She's helping me autopsy my marriage, figure out what happened, better understand what my part was, and begin to press through to recovery. It's hard, emotional work. 

But, I don't want to end up being that cranky lady who is still stuck in bitterness over what happened to her 35 years ago. I want to be healthy emotionally, spiritually, and mentally to enjoy life with my children and model pressing into Jesus and moving forward with hope! I'm determined to get there even if it's inch by inch!

Renewal is a process. It is agonizingly long. It requires that we wade through the in-between time with our hurt, fear, and loneliness and have patience for the healing. It means we have to choose to address the bad memories and chocolate coat them in grace. 

It means we slowly lay down the grudges and sufferings and begin to forgive. 

Even the abuse. 

Even the abandonment.

Even the betrayal.

Even the unforgivable acts.

(Sit with that one for a moment... Even the unforgivable acts...)

We must lay those things down before the Lord so that, because our God is the God who makes all things new, JOY has room to spring up when you least expect it.

Zakale.

"Behold, I will do a new thing; now it shall spring forth; 

shall ye not know it? 

I will even make a way in the wilderness, 

and rivers in the desert." 

Isaiah 43.19

A Bad Case of the Coulda/Shoulda/Woulda

What coulda been done differently that I had some say in?.. I shoulda... Maybe things woulda turned out better if only I had... 

It truly is an illusion. And one that has kept me spinning for too long.

Recently, I asked this question of the amazingly-wonderful women in my separation/divorce recovery group.

How does one leave room for a miracle in a broken marriage and yet move on and heal? I feel like I'm failing as a Christ-follower if I don't leave the door open a crack and yet I also feel like that's just hurting myself further. What's right? To shut out all possibility -- even a miracle - or to "move on"? I hate those moments or days when I feel confused and conflicted. Five minutes with someone reminding me of our history is enough to wake me up to the abusive past. Why do I continue to punish myself for every wrong of the past? Why do I keep trying to figure out a way that I can fix what he has assured me over and over will never be fixed? And why does the hope of our life together still haunt me?   

Guilt. Shame. Confusion. Despair. False hope. Grasping. Exhaustion. Coulda/shoulda/woulda.

My husband and I were separated a few years ago. After three months, I just couldn't do it... and insisted we reconcile. I begged. Yep, I am that woman. The one who chases the man who doesn't want her. The one who begs.

Why? I've also been asking the Lord to uncover the hidden reasons that are deeper within my heart, but there are a couple that I'm fully aware of.


1. I come from a large, Christian family with many in Christian service or in the pulpit and separation (much less the Big D) is verboten, so leaving or being left means I am the one who introduced it to our family. Lest you think I'm just being dramatic, this was actually spoken to me by a close family member who said my marital failure would "taint all generations past and future." Mm-hmm, that was several years ago and it still smarts. It still alienates. It still smothers me with guilt and shame. That relationship has yet to be repaired.

2. 'Working it out' seemed to be the sensible and responsible thing to do (as a stay-at-home mother of five without a work history). Plus, I knew that I would continue to work diligently with God on my side of the street to improve our marriage and I prayed that he would do the same. It might get better! We might be healed! Someday. And if not, I told myself, "Plenty of women have endured terrible, painful, abusive marriages. What's another 30-40 years? I can do this."

3. Divorce is permanent... Right?

The truth is, I felt like I was going to die from my marriage, it was so toxic. I woke up nearly every morning for years so disappointed that the Lord hadn't taken me (or better yet, him!) in the night. That's how bad it was. And yet, it wasn't worse than the stigma attached to separation and the inevitable disdain and rejection from the Church and at least a few in the family. How much does that suck?!

So, I spent years trying this thing and that thing, reading every marriage book on the shelves, seeing a dozen counselors, trying every group and Bible study, making all the lists of positives to focus on/ negatives to ignore, praying all the prayers, lighting all the candles, losing all the weight, meeting all the sexual desires, rebooting all the habits, throwing out all the lists, quitting hanging out with friends, eating everything in the fridge, praying harder, working on having better, sexier sex, crying in the closet and begging every way possible.

And yet my mind still gets filled with all the things I coulda done, shoulda done, woulda done that might have made life go differently. Because I didn't want to let go of the hope, or lose my family, or my church, and I was sure there must be something else I could do or not do to make it work.

It's a huge reason why I filed for legal separation instead of divorce. Everything was ready to go, the little box for divorce checked, and I stood there for hours in the most miserable place in the county (the courthouse) in line to file, literally swaying back and forth with nausea, a migraine, and indecision knowing I had to have legal protection and court-ordered financial provision and yet wildly conflicted at the thought of the relationships that would be lost because of it and the permanence of such a decision. It felt like doing so made the entire thing my fault and that I would be solely blamed. That, and knowing deep in my gut that my husband would never make things right, never repair the damage between us, especially after I filed for divorce, made me physically ill.

Then a dear friend texted me "Don't do it! File for legal separation instead and leave the door open for reconciliation" and knocked all the wind out of the divorce sail and I whited out that little box and checked the one for legal separation instead. That's all it took. 

One text.

That's how wobbly I was. And in a lot of ways still am.

(By the way, the precious prayer-warrior friend who texted me was right. I needed to leave that door open a crack. I needed to give my husband another chance to reconcile. Or to do nothing. And to clearly see his choice.) 


But, a new friend from my support group responded to my question in a way that quieted my soul.

"Stop punishing yourself immediately. Stop trying to fix what he is unwilling to let be fixed immediately. It is not your job anymore. It is God's. Also, remember that separation and even divorce isn't the end of all hope! People can always re-marry each other again after legal separation and/or divorce! Reconciliation is always possible. If you want to honor God by leaving the door open a crack for reconciliation, it's not divorce that would prohibit that -- only unfaithfulness... And when the protections that legal separation and divorce can provide are mandatory, you must do that and rest in God's mercy and His sweet grace."

And that stopped my case of coulda/shoulda/woulda mid-spin.

Sister, if you spin like me, stop. Relax. Be at peace. God has your situation in His control. 

"There is now no condemnation 

for those who are in Christ Jesus." 

Romans 8.1

"PEACE I leave with you; 

My peace I give you.

I do not give to you as the world gives.

Do not let your hearts be troubled

and do not be afraid."

John 14.27

Well, I Declare!

Years ago, my estranged husband proposed to me with the verse

"O magnify the Lord with me, and let us exalt His Name together."
Psalm 34.3

(I'm brewing a post about the beauty of Psalm 34 -- even though it's a song that is infused with loss now -- and the promises in it that I memorized as a kid but hadn't really unpacked until recently. But that's for another day.)

We two glorifying God together, serving God together. We two walking through life together with the Lord as the Center. We two growing in our faith together. That still sounds good to me.

"As for me and my house, 

we will serve the Lord!"

Joshua 24.15

Many years ago, I claimed this as my "life verse", the one that had my name on it. Then when we started having children, I made it our "family verse". Psalm 34.3 and Joshua 24.15 seemed to go well together. 

We seven glorifying God together, serving God together. We seven walking through life together with the Lord as the Center. We seven growing in our faith together. That was my whole life's purpose.

A few years later, I wrote a family declaration, a proclamation of who we as a family are, our tenets if you will. The idea was borrowed, but I am sorry to say that I don't remember to whom the credit is due. 

I didn't realize at the time that it was part of the growing desperation to keep my marriage and family intact as I was in denial that my husband had begun to walk away, or at least had already made the decision. He fought it. He found ways to avoid dinner/Bible devotions. So, I moved the time to breakfast, but then he decided he would just make a health shake every day and go instead of sitting down with us. Pretty quickly, we rarely had a meal with all of us at the table. Even thinking back to that time and the worry that was birthed in me then makes my insides twist.

Anyway, I dusted the list of our family tenets off today and realized something wonderful. 

It's beautiful. It's good. It's brave. What I hoped, and prayed, and pressed, and fought for us to be together as a couple and as a family was a lovely, godly, and worthwhile way to be and to live even though I failed at it.

IN OUR FAMILY, WE…

… honor God.  All of our behavior is measured against this standard.

… have our priorities straight which means that we serve God first, then each other, then others.

… love one another.  That means we treat each other with gentleness and kindness.  We live the Golden Rule.

… value and respect each other’s feelings, wishes, personal property, and boundaries.  We take care to build and maintain lifelong, loving relationships.

… tell the truth no matter what the situation or the consequences.

… work towards excellence in every area of our lives to please and glorify God, even when there is no visible reward.

… value and celebrate each other’s strengths and have grace for and help each other in our weaknesses.

… assume good intentions from each other.

… forgive and forgive and forgive.  We do not return unkindness with unkindness, but exchange it for mercy and love.  We turn the other cheek.

… we work to build a lasting foundation in Jesus Christ to hold fast through life’s storms and disasters.

Looking back, I realize that as soon as my husband and son moved out I immediately began the process of reclaiming this territory, starting with the Golden Rule. Kind words, gentleness, truthfulness, forgiveness, and letting go of strife have been required day in and day out. No more chaos. No more fighting. No more lying. No more really bad stuff! And no more constant anxiety and uptightness. I told everyone, "Starting today, people, we are going to be down-tight!" That's right. It's a word now. Down-tight. It'll catch on.

Digging this out inspired me to be even more intentional about it. So, starting today we're memorizing these again! In a perfect world, my whole family would be seeking God and unity and loving one another together, but it's not a perfect world. My family is broken. As my 6-year-old daughter explained, "Our family was one heart, but now two pieces are missing."

But, that also means that (barring a miracle) I am now the head of my household, and I get to lead it! Even though I have to do it alone, I want to lead well. Lead towards Jesus. Lead towards Love!

"I will wait here. Go and wake the others 

and tell them to follow. 

If they will not, then you at least must 

follow Me alone."

~Aslan

"Train up a child in the way he should go 

and when he is old, he will not depart from it."

Proverbs 22.6

Several months ago, I threw a big hissy fit and threw Joshua 24.15 back at God telling Him He could keep it! I didn't even want to open the Word to that page! It hurt too much to have my whole life's purpose be rejected and thrown away.

But, God's been reminding me of the goodness of it. The richness of it. And that I didn't fail. Not by a long shot. Lord willing, I still have years ahead of me to lead my children in those family tenets. Even though I do so alone.

So, I declare our family proclamations. And I declare:

"I will magnify the Lord and exalt His Name!"

because

"As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord!"

The Crazy-Messy-Uppy-Downiness

 

 

  

 

This is me. Daily. Sometimes hourly.

I'd kind of like to fast-forward through the next couple of years to the point in time when I'm consistently in a better, more stable mental and emotional state. No? Ok, well if we could just skip my 22nd anniversary that's coming up... (Sorry, can't talk about that yet. Moving on.) or the holidays in entirety then, that would be spectacular. I dread walking into the family parties -- just me and four of my children. Going around the table at Thanksgiving reading our lists of the things we are thankful for and singing traditional Thanksgiving hymns and the Junior Asparagus VeggieTales song. Christmas Eve vespers. Christmas morning... (Sorry, I can't talk about the holidays yet either. Moving on.)

Suffice it to say that I'm looking forward to reaching that place where I no longer wildly swing from tears, to anger, to confusion, to exhaustion, to hope, to disgust, to fear, and back to tears. The urge to blaze past this season straight on through to "I'm over it" is incredibly appealing. 

Maturity in Christ, though, requires the long, hard journey pressing on with Him. On foot. No short cuts. And life is to be lived today. It's only going to be this day, of this month, of this year today and I don't want to miss a wink of it not moving forward. And, since I have to take this road, I want to do it well. I want God to be pleased with how I've grown. Those are the reasons why I'm resolved to stake my flag in maturity and Christlikeness.

That, and the fact that time travel isn't possible. 

I trust God -- I do -- to heal my heart and my children's hearts, to bring good out of this, stability, peace, and redemption, but for now, for today, 

I'm wrestling with the crazy-messy-uppy-downiness.

"Growth requires facing where you're at

so you can go to the next level."

(If you're going to grow in spiritual maturity) 

"You're going to have to learn 

to put your emotions aside."

~Joyce Meyer

Oh, Mama Joyce always tells the hard truths...

Putting emotions aside is an act of dogged, hourly determination. It requires a self-control that I am not yet acquainted with. Being honest with myself, transparent before God, grieving the loss of my marriage and relationship with my son, confronting my own sin, and walking that through with counselors and mentors, and choosing to both openly share my life in community AND not getting stuck in negative emotions... Tricky!

Truthfully, this journey is very hard to write about. I'd rather ignore it and be funny. I don't like to be vulnerable. And, being "open" pseudonymously feels a little ridiculous, except that it's necessary right now. Messy isn't cool. It isn't popular. It isn't welcome in polite society. It often involves the "ugly cry". It isn't together. Being in crisis means you have to lean on others and my flesh just never wants to risk that. 

I'd so much rather:
be the person that helped the messy than be messy. 
share with the needy than be needy.
be there for the upset than be upset. 
comfort the grieved than be grieved. 
visit someone who is suffering than be the one suffering. 
talk the angry person off the emotional ledge than be the angry chick on the ledge. 

Being the type of Christian sister that others can lean on, the kind that is able to walk with others through their messiness with empathy, wisdom and Jesus-focus, requires having first gone through trials and sufferings and come out the other side transformed.

The fact of the matter is that lately, on this journey towards healing... I've needed babysitters. Not for the kids, for me. One of my dearest friends used that term (having needed them herself through her divorce) and it is a perfect word for the kind of friend that is needed. I've needed supervision! from solid Christian sisters more than I ever imagined to be the hands and feet of Jesus, to sit beside me, pray with me, and talk things through. I've needed salty friends to remind me of Scriptures that relate directly to the current struggle. Because my heart and mind have been flinging around all kingdom come, I am so grateful for precious friends who are rooted in the Word and gently point me back to Jesus, to love, to forgiveness, mercy, repentance, trusting God, calming down, pressing on, growing in maturity, practicing self-control. 

Here are some verses I've clung to:

"Blessed are those who mourn,

for they will be comforted."

Matt5.4

"Guard your heart with all diligence
for everything you do flows from it."
Prov4.23

"From everlasting to everlasting 
the Lord's love is with those who fear Him & His righteousness with their their children's children."
Ps103.17

"For if you forgive other people when they sin against you, 
your heavenly Father will also forgive you."
Matt6.14

"I pray that out of His glorious riches, He may strengthen you 
with power through His Spirit in your inner being."
Eph3.16

"I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which 
God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus."
Phil3.14

"Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, 

and I will give you rest."

Matt11.28

When I grow up, well, when I'm at least a little further down the road from crazy-messy-uppy-downiness, I want to be a babysitter, too. 

The Daily U-Turn

REPENT (verb)
1. To feel remorse, contrition, or self-reproach for what one has done or failed to do
2. To be contrite
3. To feel such regret for past conduct as to change one's mind regarding it
4. To make a change for the better as a result of remorse or contrition for one's sins
 

I've been studying this world-rocking little volume called "Repentance -- the Joy-Filled Life" by M. Basilea Schlink. (By the way, a big thank you to my parents for not naming me Basilea.) 

These last four months have brought a tidal wave of awareness of and sorrow over my own sins. I thought it was a super holy act to ask the Lord to reveal my sins... 

Turns out He had been waiting a long time for me to ask. 

Mother Schlink says, "No one is able to change his own hard heart into one that is soft and broken, able to weep over its own sins. This must be accomplished in us by a work of grace which is a gift of God."

And, weep I did and do! The weight of my own grief over my sinfulness that brought so much harm to my family felt like it would cripple me. It was like an elephant had sat on my chest pointing a fat finger at me. Look at what I have done! No wonder our life went so far awry. I wouldn't want to have lived with me during the last few years. I feel sorry for my husband and kids who had put up with my grief, fear, control, panic, suspicion, depression, migraines, sleeplessness, anxiety, and on and on. I didn't even want to be around myself!

I began repenting. Big things, little things, writing them out, talking with godly mentors and friends, going back and sifting through the wreckage of my marriage and family, owning my messiness, really digging deep into sorrow for the ways in which I had hurt or offended God and others and making amends where possible. 

And, you know what? It felt great! Freedom! Joy! A conscience being cleared! Repentance rocks!

But, after a while, in my ultra-holy quest for Christlikeness, contrition, forgiveness and restoration, two little truths started sneaking up on me like a ninja.

I am FULL of Pharisaical pride. 

And sometimes I don't care about my sinfulness one iota. 

You don't have much to repent about (at least nothing really sinful in comparison to - ahem - others) when you are already pretty awesomely godly. Plus, sometimes my sin is justified! Sometimes I don't give a hoot that I hurt another person, or directly disobeyed Scripture, or sinned out loud and proud and on purpose.

Once I started repenting I began to realize the truth that I needed to repent of my unwillingness to truly, deeply repent!

Don't tell anybody else, but I'd been sitting up on my fabulous high horse looking down upon a certain somebody for not caring about his long, long, loooong list of sins (and I mean Big Ones) that I'd been keeping very close track of, and I thought, "Well, at least I feel sorry when I'm wrong and am willing to change. He, clearly, is not. So, obviously, that makes me better than him. Less wrong."

Ooooooh, ugly!

"Anna, you are a (prideful) hypocrite! 

First take the plank out of your own eye, 

and then you will see clearly to remove 

the speck from your brother's eye."

Matthew 7.5

Darn that little ninja of truth! I don't see my own sin. I conveniently ignore it, justify it, am apathetic about it, feel entitled to it, make excuses, and push back on anyone who suggests that just maybe I'm a teensy bit in error. Ever so slightly. Possibly. Might want to put that in the hopper and give it a shake.

"Whoever conceals their sins does not prosper,

but the one who confesses and renounces them finds mercy."

Proverbs 28.13

Even when I do see my sin, I still don't always feel sorry. I cultivate callousness of heart on purpose. Why? Pride. 

Pride stomps out repentance. If: 
a. I don't even recognize my sinfulness and

b. I'm right and feel justified, or "less" sinful than the next guy
then I am perfectly shielded from ever having to listen to another person's complaints about me, or change, or humble myself, or choose another person over myself.

Mother Schlink says, "Because of our human predisposition, we are apathetic and indifferent towards our sins, much of the time being unaware of them. We weep easily over the difficulties of our lives, over things that have been done to us: our sorrows, griefs, and disappointments. But because it is not natural to our human nature, few of us come to the place of real contrition and repentance. The heart of man has a way of thinking it is always in the right and sees no reason to weep over its own sins. Our human nature is self-righteous and impenitent. We want to blame others rather than ourselves. We even blame God."

Ahhh, yes, blame and self-righteous excuses. Sadly, I am troublesomely acquainted with that nasty duo.

"That person behaved FAR worse than I did, which practically undoes the harm of my actions. Their stuff made my stuff seem puny in comparison. Itty bitty."

"Actually, the problem is, you see, that that person (probably because they're a big, fat sinner) simply doesn't understand! AND probably refuses to understand on purpose (See?! Big, fat sinner.). Besides, it was a misunderstanding! Good grief, it's nothing I'd have to actually repent over or make amends for! Pffff!.. They're over-sensitive anyway..."

The bigger deal I can make over their behavior (misdirection, blaming, and excuses), the less I have to wrestle with and repent over my own. But, Jesus declared war on all excuses. 

"Whenever I realize I have to apologize, 

I suddenly get strong, flu-like symptoms."

~ Patsy Clairmont

So how does God bring us to that willingness of heart, the actual desire to figure out what we've done wrong or are doing wrong?

Suffering.

Distress. Pain. Loss. Trials. War. Decimated relationships. 

"Self-righteousness makes us so blind and deaf that we no longer recognize God's voice speaking to us through... distress. We do not recognize that these judgments are His wooing of us."

In His grace He allows suffering to pound out the hardness and create in us a contrite heart. Over and over. He disciplines us, sometimes severely (like all good daddies do), so that we are humbled and learn to obey. So that we repent. No matter what anyone else has done. We're not going to stand before the Throne with anybody else to shift the unrepented blame upon. Our stuff is ours. Mine sin is mine.

Repentance is the only way to be free. Free to rejoice in being forgiven! At least by God. Hopefully, those I've sinned against will be willing to hear my sorrow and repentance this side of Heaven.

And, that contrition isn't a once-a-year deal. We are actually invited to weep over our sins as a daily pattern. That's an uphill battle against pride, selfishness, excuses, and anything else that gets in the way. Heck, let's be real, it's an up-Everest battle! But, HE is with us in the journey of repentance, living the lifestyle of contrition.

"When I daily ask: 'Lord, give me the grace of repentance, give me a broken heart, enlighten my eyes that I may see the beam in them and realize my own sin against God and men,' He will hear me. He will open my eyes so I can see the depth of my sins, the pain I have caused in others rather than what they have done to me. I will then see things in the light of God's truth rather than in the darkness of the enemy who puts the sins of others before me like a huge screen which blinds my eyes and blocks me from seeing my own sins."

Oh my. Stop focusing on what someone else has done to me because that's one of the Enemy's chief tactics to stop spiritual growth in it's tracks and focus on what I have done to others and to God. My heart is crushed at my excuse-making, my hardness, my raging and grieving at the horrible wrongs done to me with very little deep and penetrating sorrow at the ways I have repeatedly hurt my precious Jesus and those around me. 

I am a sinner.
I am a wretched sinner.
No comparison to any other on the planet.
Just me and my pile of you-know-what to give with great grief over to the God who loves me enough to cover it with the blood of Jesus washing me white as snow.

Amazing.

So, here I am. Beginning again... And determining to be a person who lives in a continual state of repentance. Daily choosing not to compare myself with others in order to somehow contrive a weak excuse for my own sin. Daily bringing my heart before God asking for the truth, the dirty truth about my blind, angry, wounded, impenitent, Pharisaical self. Seeking to unburden myself from that elephant and find the daily JOY of His sweet and free forgiveness.

You can call me Basilea if you want. The name is growing on me.

Repentance rocks.