Wednesday, July 27, 2016

Scary Cool

And God caused the sky to shake and the waters of heaven to open.  His brilliance illuminated the earth.  His voice made the trees tremble, and he said, "Fall on your knees, before the Lord your God."

**6 months earlier**

I'm a sucker for shows that start this way.  There is always a tension inside me between distaste with the writers for hooking my attention with this cliche tool and loving that this cliche tool succeeds in hooking my attention.  I really want to see what happened earlier to lead up this climactic moment in the show.

Compared to most television shows/movies, however, my life is much less climactic.  But that doesn't really matter, does it?  Pain is a relative thing.  Ask people of differing ages and experiences how much a skinned knee hurts (say, my eight year old son and my 75 year old father) and you will get significantly different answers.  Our pain is uniquely qualified by our own perspective, not others.  What is devastating to me, may seem trivial to someone else.  The sharp pain of a stubbed toe temporarily obliterates your awareness of all else, yet an onlooker may simply find it funny.

I explain that as a disclaimer and a justification of the fact that the last several months of my life have been really hard (relatively).  And, frankly, it is hard for me to admit it.  I was raised on stories of the Bataan Death March and Vietnamese prisoner of war camps; images of monks lighting themselves on fire and tanks rolling over people in Tienanmen Square; knowledge of the War to End All Wars and then the next one and the next one depictions of the Great Depression and the Holocaust; studies about despotic and genocidal leaders like Stalin and Pol Pot and Mao Tse-tung and Hitler and the Ayatollah Khomeini; real possibilities of nuclear war and, and, and...  

Life's pretty good
In the knowledge and perspective of these and more, it has always been difficult for me to admit pain.   Who am I to complain?  I don't have it so bad.  This will pass.  Heck, I'm married.  I have four healthy kids.  I have a roof over my head.  I make more money than 98% of the world. My parents are alive and still married. My dog doesn't bite me anymore.

So, it is hard to complain... out loud.

Because I do plenty of complaining.  I just don't verbalize it.  Complaining out loud would be wrong.  That would allow others to compare my pain against those absolute standards of suffering like poverty and starvation and abuse that makes my hardship seem less, well, hard.  So, I try and focus on what I have, what I'm thankful for.  And it works.  Mostly.



The problem is that while I am trying to convince myself that my relative pain is not very big on an absolute scale, I don't actually engage with my frustration or my disappointment or my fear.  I rationalize them away.  I tell myself, "God has given me so much!  He loves me and will do what is best for me."  Because that's true.  God loves me and I don't deserve any of it ,and his gifts to me are just that: gifts.  I know this.  I believe this.

Except for when I don't.

Much of the time I can't shake the relative worth that I feel about myself.  I'm smarter or more moral or nicer or whatever-er than the next person.  And because of that, shouldn't I get more?  And when I don't, when the inevitable disappointments or failures or pain happens, no matter how relative they are, it feels unfair.  It feels unjust.  It makes me bitter.

But I know that it isn't truth.  So, I repeat those messages to myself and tuck my bitterness away where all us self-righteous, moral people stow it -- inside.  I put on a face of contentment and gratitude and patience while waiting for my insides to match my outsides, for my feelings to match my understanding.

And while I wait, my bitterness grows.

This is the story of the last six months.  Without going into details, it basically boils down to money problems.  Money issues themselves are stressful and familiar to almost everyone.  But this time, they came on the heels of some real and prolonged effort of discipline and faith in our finances (the kind of discipline and faith by which a self-righteous, moral person would expect to be rewarded).  On the one hand, we had been saving and paying off debt and living below our means.  On the other hand, we took a step of faith in believing God would provide not just for our needs, but also our desires.  (I'm not a prosperity gospel guy.  This is just what I thought God was teaching us.)

So I apprehensively stepped out in obedience.  And the money just stopped.  Six months later, the savings are gone.  The debt is back.  The desires aren't met.  Even the needs are threatened.  And I'm bitter.  I'm angry.

The messages aren't working anymore.

For the most part, like a good, self-righteous, moral person, I have been able to keep it on the inside.  The stress of worrying about bills.  The shame of not being able to provide for the wants of my family.  The betrayal of feeling duped into a step of spiritual obedience.  I was able to keep it all under wraps until last week.  Until Thursday.

On Thursday, I found out that my daughter's sprained ankle that sidelined her during the second week of her dance intensive was actually a detached ligament.  She is my dancer.  This is my girl who loves to move; my ballerina who finds her joy on pointe.  This is my daughter who was in a walking boot for four months last year before finally having surgery on the bones in her foot and then going through three months of recovery and rehabilitation so she could finally dance again.  This is my daughter who spent the next six months putting in extra work to try and catch up from the time and practice and conditioning that she missed during her injury and recovery.  This is the daughter who had just found out that if she wants to dance, she has to do it all over again.

That was more than I could take.  After all the stress and fear and shame and doubt of the past six months, after all the reassurances about the nature of God and his love and mercy for me, after each successful triumph of faith and feeling like the pressure was ratcheted up yet again, God had crossed the line.  Messing with me was okay.  Messing with my kid?  I had no room left to stuff my feelings.

There is nothing rational about a parent's anger.  There is no self-preservation in it.  Threatening my child gets only one response: fury.  It doesn't matter whether or not I can effectively stop the threat.  I will lift the car or stop the bullet or kill the bear or punish the scumbag.  I may not actually succeed.  It may even be suicidal, but you will get everything I have to give, all the rage and vengeance I can muster.  It will be coming at you.

But this time, it was directed at God.

What follows is stupid and dangerous.  There should be a Surgeon General's warning or something.  (Does anyone else think it cosmically absurd that we warn people that hot coffee is hot, but we ignore the amount of anger humanity directs at God?)

We broke the news to Emy.  She cried.  I cried, We all cried.  Inside, though, I was fuming.  I wanted to break something.  I wanted to break someone.  But I had responsibilities.  So, first, I held my daughter as she sobbed.  Then I left the house, because, ironically, I had to go to a church Elder meeting.

Kari followed me out to make sure I was ok.  I wasn't.  I told her that I was mad at God; that, "I'm sick of his *@#!."  I know that isn't rational or fair or whatever, but I can't explain it.  I was mad beyond caring, but I wasn't mad beyond believing.

As I was driving to my church meeting (feel free to laugh), I let God have it.

"You don't care about me.  Sure you died for the world, but what about me?  Who wants to be loved the same as everyone else?  That's not what love is.  Love is special.  Love is intimate.  It's not universal.  Where are you?  You don't talk to me.  You don't meet me.  You just ask for more and more and more.  And my reward?  I get to be treated like everyone else!  How do I know that you are even there?  Am I just a fool?  How do I know that you notice me?"

Six months of bitterness (really, probably a lifetime's) came bubbling to the surface in an accusatory challenge to the omnipotent lord of the universe.  Yeah, I know.  Dumb.  But it felt better to get it out.  So, I went to the meeting, prayed and discussed like a good little Pharisee, went home and went to bed.

I'm told the storm started about 2 a.m.  Heavy rain.  Thunder.  Lightning.  I don't know why it didn't wake me up right away.  (I've always thought one of the weirdest parts of the story about Jonah and the whale isn't the whale part, but the storm.  A great storm threatens to destroy the ship in which Jonah is running from God and it doesn't wake him up.  The sailors had to wake him up to get him to take responsibility for God's wrath and end the storm.  Weird.  But I'm not Jonah.  I was just sleeping.)

The storm did wake my wife up though.  Maybe it woke her, because she doesn't like storms.  She counts the time between lightning and thunder.  It helps her to observe the storm coming and passing away.  Normally the time between the lighting strikes and the thunder gradually get closer as the storm moves in and then gradually they get further apart as it moves away.  I know we all understand this, but that night it was different.

On that night, the storm went flash. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, Rumble.  Again, flash. 1, 2,...5, Rumble.  Flash, three seconds, rumble.  Two seconds.  Three seconds.  Five seconds. Three. One. Three. Two. Four. Two. Zero. Two...

The storm wasn't moving on.  It came in, sat down and set up shop.  Just rain and lightning and thunder for two hours.

Now, I'm not claiming that this was a supernatural storm, that there was some special cloud that appeared over my house just for me.  Nor am I claiming that other people in my town in Western Washington noticed anything other than a unusual and particularly loud and intense storm that night.  I only claim my experience, my uniquely qualified perspective.

I finally woke up at about four o'clock and it sounded like the sky was dropping galvanized garbage cans full of water on our roof.  I'm not scared of storms.  I like storms.  It's definitely a first world perspective, but from the safety and warmth of my house, I've always enjoyed looking out the window and watching the wind and the rain and the lightning.  There is something cool and scary about violent storms.  The power and the potential destruction is scary, but as long as you are doing so from safety it's pretty cool too.  As long as you are sheltered from the wrath of nature, as long as you know that its power isn't going to be unleashed on you, it's scary cool.  Know what I mean?

This was different.  I knew that this storm was God getting my attention, and as I woke, my first thought was, "Fall on your knees before the Lord."  Scary.  Not cool.  So, of course, I just laid there.

The thunder crashed and the rain poured, and I laid there thinking, "I'm not Jonah."  Crash.  "This isn't Bible times."  Boom.  "Kari is going to think its weird if I get out of bed."  Rumble.  "But what if it is God?"  Howl.  Flash.  Roar.

I got out of bed.  I knelt down with my face on the floor.  I apologized for my selfishness and my self-pity and my disrespect.  I thanked God for showing me he is real, and he notices me.

I cried.

And the storm went away.  The rain slacked, and the lightning faded and the thunder... Three seconds.  Five seconds.  Eight seconds.  Gone.

I'm still struggling.  I don't know how we are going to get through our situation.  I don't know what the future has in store.  I don't know if I will get all of what I want or need.  I don't know if Emy will get injured again.

But,

I know that God is real.  I know that he is Lord.  I know that he notices me.

Scary huh?

Scary cool.

7 comments:

  1. (Job 38:1) "Then the Lord spoke to Job out of the storm..."

    Thanks for sharing. Not a lot of people have the courage or eloquence to share these intimate experiences.

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    Replies
    1. Thanks Alex. I actually almost included something from Job but comparing myself to Job seemed like I had too high an opinion of myself. Either way though, I am humbled that my experience has touched others. God is good.

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  2. Thank you for sharing, Joel. I've been that angry with God, and it's why I like Psalms. Psalms has all the joy, the anger, the anguish, the peace, the sorrow, and the celebration that seems to be an intense part of a Godly life. God is real. He loves.
    Trisha reminds me every day to pray for Emy, but I admit I had forgotten to pray for your whole family, and I should have. God knows that I would need all those prayers in that same situation, and I've been surprised and blessed when others pray for me when I haven't asked for prayers.
    So, brother, we're praying for you, Emy, and your whole family now - for strength, peace, and even for the finances to work out. I don't think that's about prosperity gospel, I just think that's asking God for help in times of trouble.

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    Replies
    1. Thank you for the prayers Tyrean. I've always been intrigued with the honest expressions of anger and fear and pride, etc. in scripture (especially in Psalms). I didn't want to actually get to the place where I expressed those feelings too, but there is health in being close enough to the Father to be able to honestly express flawed feelings. Maybe that's part of this.

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  3. มาเด้ เป็นยังไง? เป็นส่วนประกอบของสารสกัดที่ได้มาจากธรรมชาติมีอีกทั้งวิตามินรวม ธาตุ เอนเหล้าองุ่นรวมทั้งเชลล์บรรเทา
    มีทั้งยังพลาสเซนต้าแล้วก็คอลลาเจนโดนสารทั้งหมดควรต้องผ่านวิธีการตระเตรียมสูตรยาแบบ(Homeopathy)
    เป็นศาสตร์การบำบัดที่มีต้นกำเนิดมาจาก ประเทศเยอรมนี โดยกานศึกษาค้นพบของแพทย์ ซามุเอลฮาเนมัน แก่มากยิ่งกว่า 200
    ปีโดยมีวิธีการบำบัดรักษาว่า (ใช้สิ่งที่คล้ายคลึงกันมารักษาสิ่งที่คล้ายคลึงกัน) หรือการนำเอาสารที่เป็นต้นเหตุของอาการนั้นๆ


    มาเด้
    มาเด้ หน้าใส
    ฉีดมาเด้ ที่ไหนดี

    ReplyDelete
  4. ศัลยกรรมเสริมคาง
    อีกหนึ่งศัลยกรรมหรืออีกหนึ่งทางออกสำหรับปัญหาของคนรูปคางสั้น รูปคางผิดรูปผิดร่างคนที่มีคางสั้น คางเล็ก คางปราศจากความนูนหรือคางร่นมาด้านข้างหลัง ทำให้บริเวณใบหน้ามองกลม หน้าสั้น ศูนย์กลางของบริเวณใบหน้ามองกว้าง คอดูมีเนื้อมากมาย ซึ่งเป็นรูปลักษณ์ที่ไม่สวยสวย
    ซึ่งปัญหาพวกนี้สามารถปรับแต่งโดยการเสริมคาง ทำให้สามารถแลเห็นรูปคางได้แน่ชัดบริเวณใบหน้าด้านล่างก็จะมองมีมิติ แล้วก็เป็นการปรับรูปหน้าให้วีเชฟได้รูปรูปทรงตามสิ่งที่มีความต้องการของผู้ป่วย แม้กระนั้นดังนี้ขึ้นกับหมอผู้ผ่าตัดจะเป็นผู้ประเมินรูปร่างความเหมาะสมของรูปหน้าด้วย


    เลเซอร์ขนขา
    เลเซอร์รักแร้
    เลเซอร์บิกินี
    เลเซอร์ กำจัดขนหน้า
    เลเซอร์ กำจัดขน รักแร้

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  5. This comment has been removed by the author.

    ReplyDelete