Gospel Balm
Dr. Laura Hendrickson
BLOG.DRLAURAHENDRICKSON.COM
Whoops, I Forgot The Gospel
Recently I forgot the gospel--that is to say, I forgot to preach the gospel to myself about a friendship that was important to me. And as so often happens with me, I didn't even realize that I wasn't thinking about it in a "gospelized" way until things completely fell apart between us. Here's an abridged version of what happened.
Without husbands involved, single women can develop very strong friendships with one another. I'm not talking about anything improper here--my friend really was just a friend. But although I was reading my Bible, praying every day, and preaching the gospel to myself, it seems that I gradually developed a blind spot in my relationship with her, and she began taking the place of Christ in my thinking.
This kind of thing often happens to believers, because although we've been given new hearts, we continue to struggle with a natural tendency to place our trust in people, instead of God. The Bible calls this idolatry--putting anything ahead of God in our hearts. Why do I use such a strong word as "idolatry" to describe what was happening in my friendship? Why is this so wrong?
Jesus Christ, not any other human being, is the source of my purpose and importance, safety and security. Ultimately I matter, not because my friend values me, but because Christ chose me, lived a perfect life for me, and died for my sins on the cross. I'm safe, not because I have a friend walking with me, but because I'm in Christ. God loves me because I'm united to my Savior, and has committed Himself to care for me.
When I forget these things, I'm prone to start leaning inappropriately on my friend and expecting her to love, understand, and accept me perfectly. And if she's doing the same thing in her heart toward me, our friendship is doomed. We're bound to be disappointed in each other sooner or later, because only God is perfect. No fallible human being can take His place in our lives.
God intends friendship (or any other close relationship) between two of His children to be a byproduct of the primary relationship that each of them have with Him. He calls us to lean upon Him as the source of our purpose and importance, safety and security. And as we look to Him for provision, He enables us to serve one other in love. But too often in the relationships that mean the most to us, we inevitably find ourselves trying to lean on one another instead of serving one another, and in so doing we become disappointed in one another. There is only one Rock. He will never fail us. Others eventually will, because they're fallible sinners, just like us.
The problem I'm describing doesn't just happen in friendships between single women either, BTW. It happens between spouses, and it happens between parents and children. We also see it in the tendency some of us have to put our pastors on pedestals. Do I need to tell you that there's only one direction for a pastor to go once we've put him up on a pedestal? Right--down. When he turns out to be another sinner, just like us, not a perfect pastor who will never fail us, he'll be off the pedestal in our hearts. And we'll be disappointed because, once again, we've put my trust in the wrong person. There's only one Perfect Pastor.
But God is so kind! He doesn't just leave me in my idolatry, but ordains circumstances that reveal my heart to me, so I can see how I've placed others ahead of Him and apply the truth of the gospel to my failure. This is how I learn to trust more in Him, and less in myself and other people.
So what does the gospel say about how I ought to respond when my friend disappoints me? Well, it sweetly asks me what I was expecting from a fellow sinner. Duh! My friend's not the Lord--she's someone who needed Jesus to die for her sins, just like me. Of course she's not the Rock! Why was I expecting her to be?
Jesus is so patient with people. Remember His response when the two "sons of thunder," James and John, wanted to call down fire from heaven on the folks who didn't treat them the way they thought they should be treated? He rebuked them and said, "You do not know what manner of spirit you are of; for the Son of Man came not to destroy people’s lives but to save them" (Luke 9:55--marginal note in some versions).
I confess that I'm like those sons of thunder. I want to pay back the people who don't give me what I wanted to receive, what I think I deserve. But Jesus will give me the grace to respond like Him if I'll remember to take a deep breath when I'm provoked, and just ask Him for it.
So,what if I didn't take that deep breath and ask for what I needed to love my sister the way Jesus loves her? When I ask Him to forgive me for my failure, He'll always grant it. And He doesn't grant it the way a son of thunder like me would--grudgingly, making sure I know just how much I've disappointed Him. Instead He always receives me with open arms, just happy that I've come to my senses and have returned to walking with Him in love.
My conscience often continues to accuse me, because I failed to respond the way Jesus would have. Here's where the most precious truth of the gospel ministers to me. Jesus lived a perfect life for me, and that perfect life is credited to my account by the Father. Jesus' gracious and patient responses to provocation by sinners? All credited to me. My sinful failure? Separated from me as far as the east is for the west. Wow.
And as the recipient of such amazing love, all I can do is thank Him, praise Him, and love Him even more.
Without husbands involved, single women can develop very strong friendships with one another. I'm not talking about anything improper here--my friend really was just a friend. But although I was reading my Bible, praying every day, and preaching the gospel to myself, it seems that I gradually developed a blind spot in my relationship with her, and she began taking the place of Christ in my thinking.
This kind of thing often happens to believers, because although we've been given new hearts, we continue to struggle with a natural tendency to place our trust in people, instead of God. The Bible calls this idolatry--putting anything ahead of God in our hearts. Why do I use such a strong word as "idolatry" to describe what was happening in my friendship? Why is this so wrong?
Jesus Christ, not any other human being, is the source of my purpose and importance, safety and security. Ultimately I matter, not because my friend values me, but because Christ chose me, lived a perfect life for me, and died for my sins on the cross. I'm safe, not because I have a friend walking with me, but because I'm in Christ. God loves me because I'm united to my Savior, and has committed Himself to care for me.
When I forget these things, I'm prone to start leaning inappropriately on my friend and expecting her to love, understand, and accept me perfectly. And if she's doing the same thing in her heart toward me, our friendship is doomed. We're bound to be disappointed in each other sooner or later, because only God is perfect. No fallible human being can take His place in our lives.
God intends friendship (or any other close relationship) between two of His children to be a byproduct of the primary relationship that each of them have with Him. He calls us to lean upon Him as the source of our purpose and importance, safety and security. And as we look to Him for provision, He enables us to serve one other in love. But too often in the relationships that mean the most to us, we inevitably find ourselves trying to lean on one another instead of serving one another, and in so doing we become disappointed in one another. There is only one Rock. He will never fail us. Others eventually will, because they're fallible sinners, just like us.
The problem I'm describing doesn't just happen in friendships between single women either, BTW. It happens between spouses, and it happens between parents and children. We also see it in the tendency some of us have to put our pastors on pedestals. Do I need to tell you that there's only one direction for a pastor to go once we've put him up on a pedestal? Right--down. When he turns out to be another sinner, just like us, not a perfect pastor who will never fail us, he'll be off the pedestal in our hearts. And we'll be disappointed because, once again, we've put my trust in the wrong person. There's only one Perfect Pastor.
But God is so kind! He doesn't just leave me in my idolatry, but ordains circumstances that reveal my heart to me, so I can see how I've placed others ahead of Him and apply the truth of the gospel to my failure. This is how I learn to trust more in Him, and less in myself and other people.
So what does the gospel say about how I ought to respond when my friend disappoints me? Well, it sweetly asks me what I was expecting from a fellow sinner. Duh! My friend's not the Lord--she's someone who needed Jesus to die for her sins, just like me. Of course she's not the Rock! Why was I expecting her to be?
Jesus is so patient with people. Remember His response when the two "sons of thunder," James and John, wanted to call down fire from heaven on the folks who didn't treat them the way they thought they should be treated? He rebuked them and said, "You do not know what manner of spirit you are of; for the Son of Man came not to destroy people’s lives but to save them" (Luke 9:55--marginal note in some versions).
I confess that I'm like those sons of thunder. I want to pay back the people who don't give me what I wanted to receive, what I think I deserve. But Jesus will give me the grace to respond like Him if I'll remember to take a deep breath when I'm provoked, and just ask Him for it.
So,what if I didn't take that deep breath and ask for what I needed to love my sister the way Jesus loves her? When I ask Him to forgive me for my failure, He'll always grant it. And He doesn't grant it the way a son of thunder like me would--grudgingly, making sure I know just how much I've disappointed Him. Instead He always receives me with open arms, just happy that I've come to my senses and have returned to walking with Him in love.
My conscience often continues to accuse me, because I failed to respond the way Jesus would have. Here's where the most precious truth of the gospel ministers to me. Jesus lived a perfect life for me, and that perfect life is credited to my account by the Father. Jesus' gracious and patient responses to provocation by sinners? All credited to me. My sinful failure? Separated from me as far as the east is for the west. Wow.
And as the recipient of such amazing love, all I can do is thank Him, praise Him, and love Him even more.
When Satan tempts me to despair
And tells me of the guilt within,
Upward I look and see Him there
Who made an end to all my sin.
Because the sinless Savior died
My ransomed soul is counted free,
For God the just is satisfied
To look on Him and pardon me.
Tax Season Unbelief
It's that most wonderful time of the year again--tax time! Are you stressed yet? I am! I saw my accountant today. He'll have my tax form done in another week or so; I'll mail it in and can forget about it for another year. Can't wait!
One of the reasons I find tax season so stressful is because it reminds me of my financial situation. I don't feel safe when I don't know what's going to happen, and I never know exactly what's going to happen with my finances. My income isn't very predictable. I have several small, variable income streams, and it takes all of them to support Eric and me. I can do fine in a month where a little less is coming in--as long as a little more comes in later on. And, in fact, I have been fine. But I still struggle with worry, and at tax time every year comes the reckoning, when I finally get the big picture of the year before in dollars and cents.
I sat down last week to gather income and deduction information for my long-suffering accountant. It's a complicated process, and I dread doing it. But when I finally cranked up my personal accounting software and made an income/expense report, I was astonished to discover that my income for 2009 was almost exactly the same as that for 2008. Almost to the dollar! This was surprising because my circumstances were very different last year than the the year before. I hadn't been sure what to expect the report to say, but I definitely didn't expect that.
Wow, the Lord provided for us! Why was I so surprised? Hadn't I ask Him to?
I remember worrying about whether I'd have enough in 2009 a year ago, when I was doing my 2008 taxes, because I'd realized that one of my income streams would be smaller in 2009. Well, guess what happened. The Lord increased two of the other streams enough to compensate for the decrease I was expecting--again, almost to the dollar. It was as if He was saying, "See? You didn't even realize that I was taking care of you--but I was. I'm paying careful attention, even when you aren't, down to the last detail." Isn't that cool?
But I'm sorry to have to tell you that I didn't even wait till tax time came this year, to start worrying about whether I'd have enough in 2010. I was off and running on the worry track way back last December. Once again it's hard for me to see how it will work out. Oh, me of little faith! Somehow, even seeing the almost miraculous quality of God's provision last year doesn't help me as much as it should to tame my worries about this year.
I was already under conviction about this when I decided to listen to one of my favorite gospel tracks, by The Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir, last week. Here are the lyrics that got my attention,
As I was listening, I realized that there's no amount of proof from my experience great enough to outweigh my fear that somehow, when I least expect it, God will fail me this year. This is probably because, having experienced painful things in the past before I understood how a sovereign God works in the lives of His people, I just don't expect to be blessed and cared for.
So I asked God in prayer: If evidence of Your care for me today doesn't outweigh my earlier feeling of being abandoned by You, no matter how much You do for me, how can I learn to trust You fully?
Then suddenly I remembered. What do I always tell my counselees? When your experience and the Bible disagree, you have to go with what God says is infallibly true-- and that's His Word, not your feelings. This is what faith is (Hebrews 11). God calls me to trust in His truth and cling to His promises--even when it feels as if they can't be true for me. His truth is greater than my feelings. When I'm struggling, I need to preach the Gospel to myself--especially the part about How He's committed Himself to care for me, because I'm His child.
God sends dry financial times into my life to strengthen my faith. When they come, I need to cling to the truth that He loves me. In fact, He's already proved His love for me in the most dramatic way possible, by sending His son to die in my place (Romans 5:8). I don't need any more proof.
God doesn't promise to give me everything I'd like to receive but because He loves me, He's committed Himself to provide for my needs (Matthew 6:25-34). My job is to trust in His promise.
This is hard for me, and I won't do it perfectly. But He loves me even when I fail, and He always forgives me when I come to Him in repentance. What a wonderful God we serve!
How about that? Tax time has never been a gospel-centered experience for me before. God is always faithful to meet me where I am, even when I'm stuck in an unbelieving place.
One of the reasons I find tax season so stressful is because it reminds me of my financial situation. I don't feel safe when I don't know what's going to happen, and I never know exactly what's going to happen with my finances. My income isn't very predictable. I have several small, variable income streams, and it takes all of them to support Eric and me. I can do fine in a month where a little less is coming in--as long as a little more comes in later on. And, in fact, I have been fine. But I still struggle with worry, and at tax time every year comes the reckoning, when I finally get the big picture of the year before in dollars and cents.
I sat down last week to gather income and deduction information for my long-suffering accountant. It's a complicated process, and I dread doing it. But when I finally cranked up my personal accounting software and made an income/expense report, I was astonished to discover that my income for 2009 was almost exactly the same as that for 2008. Almost to the dollar! This was surprising because my circumstances were very different last year than the the year before. I hadn't been sure what to expect the report to say, but I definitely didn't expect that.
Wow, the Lord provided for us! Why was I so surprised? Hadn't I ask Him to?
I remember worrying about whether I'd have enough in 2009 a year ago, when I was doing my 2008 taxes, because I'd realized that one of my income streams would be smaller in 2009. Well, guess what happened. The Lord increased two of the other streams enough to compensate for the decrease I was expecting--again, almost to the dollar. It was as if He was saying, "See? You didn't even realize that I was taking care of you--but I was. I'm paying careful attention, even when you aren't, down to the last detail." Isn't that cool?
But I'm sorry to have to tell you that I didn't even wait till tax time came this year, to start worrying about whether I'd have enough in 2010. I was off and running on the worry track way back last December. Once again it's hard for me to see how it will work out. Oh, me of little faith! Somehow, even seeing the almost miraculous quality of God's provision last year doesn't help me as much as it should to tame my worries about this year.
I was already under conviction about this when I decided to listen to one of my favorite gospel tracks, by The Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir, last week. Here are the lyrics that got my attention,
Listen to it here, if you'd like.How many times must I prove how much I love you?
How many ways must my love for you I show?
How many times must I rescue you from trouble
For you to know just how much I love you?
Didn't I wake you up this morning?
You were clothed, in your right mind.
When you walked up on a problem,
Didn't I step right in on time?
When you were weak along life's journey,
My angels carried you,
So you would know just how much I love you.
How many days must I be a fence around you?
How many nights must I wipe your tears away?
How many storms must I bring you safely through,
For you to know just how I love you?
Didn't I put food on your table?
Showed up when your bills were due?
When the pain was wracking your body,
Didn't I send my healing down to you?
When you were lost in sin and sorrow,
I died to set you free,
So you would know just how much I love you.
As I was listening, I realized that there's no amount of proof from my experience great enough to outweigh my fear that somehow, when I least expect it, God will fail me this year. This is probably because, having experienced painful things in the past before I understood how a sovereign God works in the lives of His people, I just don't expect to be blessed and cared for.
So I asked God in prayer: If evidence of Your care for me today doesn't outweigh my earlier feeling of being abandoned by You, no matter how much You do for me, how can I learn to trust You fully?
Then suddenly I remembered. What do I always tell my counselees? When your experience and the Bible disagree, you have to go with what God says is infallibly true-- and that's His Word, not your feelings. This is what faith is (Hebrews 11). God calls me to trust in His truth and cling to His promises--even when it feels as if they can't be true for me. His truth is greater than my feelings. When I'm struggling, I need to preach the Gospel to myself--especially the part about How He's committed Himself to care for me, because I'm His child.
God sends dry financial times into my life to strengthen my faith. When they come, I need to cling to the truth that He loves me. In fact, He's already proved His love for me in the most dramatic way possible, by sending His son to die in my place (Romans 5:8). I don't need any more proof.
God doesn't promise to give me everything I'd like to receive but because He loves me, He's committed Himself to provide for my needs (Matthew 6:25-34). My job is to trust in His promise.
This is hard for me, and I won't do it perfectly. But He loves me even when I fail, and He always forgives me when I come to Him in repentance. What a wonderful God we serve!
How about that? Tax time has never been a gospel-centered experience for me before. God is always faithful to meet me where I am, even when I'm stuck in an unbelieving place.
He drew me up from the pit of destruction,
out of the miry bog,
and set my feet upon a rock,
making my steps secure.
He put a new song in my mouth,
a song of praise to our God. (Psalm 40:2,3)
Verbal Cruelty and the Gospel
Have you noticed that cruelty has become very cool these days? The ability to make cuttingly clever remarks is what makes TV personalities popular. Sitcoms make jokes at the expense of others, and their jokes, or ones like them, migrate into our own conversations. Entire web sites and TV shows are devoted to exposing the weaknesses and failures of others--and not just public figures, but even ordinary folks who've had the misfortune of saying or doing something embarrassing in public. Reality shows put people in stressful situations, then wait for them to behave badly. Comedians deliberately set people up to expose their gullibility or ignorance.
I've watched some of these shows and read some of these web sites. I've cringed for those who are humiliated publicly, sometimes. Other times I've laughed at them.
You'd think that someone who's suffered shame and ridicule would never be amused to see someone else be treated that way. But if I'm honest, I have to admit that sometimes I enjoy it. I've also used my tongue to show how cool and clever I am at someone's expense. Why would I do this, knowing what I do about how it feels to have it done to me?
Those of us who've been hurt are sometimes the first to hurt others in similar ways. It seems as though this shouldn't happen, yet it does. Why?
Many of us who've survived painful experiences struggle constantly with feelings of inferiority. Some of us were told repeatedly that we were of no value to the ones we loved. Others were treated by others in ways that told us that we had no value. Our memories of mistreatment send us powerful messages about our inadequacy and inferiority--messages we hope aren't true, but fear that they are.
But we, who have been so deeply hurt ourselves, sometimes hurt others in an effort to prove that we aren't the losers we fear we are. After all, if we laugh at someone for their weaknesses, we can feel superior to them, at least for a while. If someone laughs at our clever remarks at another's expense, it can feel like proof that we're fun, popular--valuable. Some of us even use verbal aggressiveness as a shield to hold others at bay, in an attempt to protect ourselves from more hurt.
I find that I'm most tempted to fear others, or to tear down others to build myself up, when I've forgotten who I am already in Christ. I will feel inferior, insecure and unloved to the precise extent that I fail to believe the gospel. The truth is that I'm even worse than I feared. Apart from Christ I'm intensely self-centered: totally out for myself, just the kind of person who would tear someone else down to feel better about myself. I'm also the kind of person who would hurt someone else to make myself feel safe. I don't like to think of myself this way, but as I look back, not just at the memories where I'm a victim, but also at things I've done that I'm not proud of, I know that it's true. In fact, the Bible teaches that I'm capable of anything unless the God's grace restrains me. And so are we all. Fortunately that's not the whole story.
The gospel also tells me that I'm also loved more than I could ever imagine. Jesus lived a perfect life for me and died a death He didn't deserve. That perfect life and that death for my sins are credited to my account, and because of this, God loves me for Jesus' sake. So exactly what am I afraid of? That I'll discover that I'm not as good as I'd like to think I am? The gospel says that I'm not, but I have Christ's righteousness as a free gift. Afraid that you won't like me? God Himself is for me (Romans 8:31). Afraid that I'm not safe? God has committed Himself to my welfare (Romans 8:28). He loves me. I can trust Him.
As I believe this, I find the courage to begin interacting with you in new ways. As I focus on what I already have in Him instead of what you might think of me, I can resist the put-down that would make me feel superior than you, the clever joke at your expense. I approach relationships with less fear, and I'm less afraid to show you who I really am, because I'm secure in Christ's love, no matter what you think of me or how you treat me.
But I forget the truth about myself all the time, and return to living as though I have to establish my own reputation and protect myself. Here's where God is so patient with me. He never seems to tire of gently reminding me of His love, and of how He wants me to love others as He loves me, no matter how often I fail to do so. His gentleness gives me the courage to admit that I've blown it, instead of hiding in defensiveness and shame.
I'm not doing the Christian life perfectly, particularly in this area of my life. In fact, some days I'm not even doing it adequately! But as God gives me the grace to believe that He really loves me, I'm slowly changing. Will you join me in seeking to live kind, rather than witty, lives before His face? Jesus said that all people will know that we're His disciples if we have love for one another (John 13:35). You, too, can have the courage to live a more loving life if you're His, because He loves you.
I've watched some of these shows and read some of these web sites. I've cringed for those who are humiliated publicly, sometimes. Other times I've laughed at them.
You'd think that someone who's suffered shame and ridicule would never be amused to see someone else be treated that way. But if I'm honest, I have to admit that sometimes I enjoy it. I've also used my tongue to show how cool and clever I am at someone's expense. Why would I do this, knowing what I do about how it feels to have it done to me?
Those of us who've been hurt are sometimes the first to hurt others in similar ways. It seems as though this shouldn't happen, yet it does. Why?
Many of us who've survived painful experiences struggle constantly with feelings of inferiority. Some of us were told repeatedly that we were of no value to the ones we loved. Others were treated by others in ways that told us that we had no value. Our memories of mistreatment send us powerful messages about our inadequacy and inferiority--messages we hope aren't true, but fear that they are.
But we, who have been so deeply hurt ourselves, sometimes hurt others in an effort to prove that we aren't the losers we fear we are. After all, if we laugh at someone for their weaknesses, we can feel superior to them, at least for a while. If someone laughs at our clever remarks at another's expense, it can feel like proof that we're fun, popular--valuable. Some of us even use verbal aggressiveness as a shield to hold others at bay, in an attempt to protect ourselves from more hurt.
I find that I'm most tempted to fear others, or to tear down others to build myself up, when I've forgotten who I am already in Christ. I will feel inferior, insecure and unloved to the precise extent that I fail to believe the gospel. The truth is that I'm even worse than I feared. Apart from Christ I'm intensely self-centered: totally out for myself, just the kind of person who would tear someone else down to feel better about myself. I'm also the kind of person who would hurt someone else to make myself feel safe. I don't like to think of myself this way, but as I look back, not just at the memories where I'm a victim, but also at things I've done that I'm not proud of, I know that it's true. In fact, the Bible teaches that I'm capable of anything unless the God's grace restrains me. And so are we all. Fortunately that's not the whole story.
The gospel also tells me that I'm also loved more than I could ever imagine. Jesus lived a perfect life for me and died a death He didn't deserve. That perfect life and that death for my sins are credited to my account, and because of this, God loves me for Jesus' sake. So exactly what am I afraid of? That I'll discover that I'm not as good as I'd like to think I am? The gospel says that I'm not, but I have Christ's righteousness as a free gift. Afraid that you won't like me? God Himself is for me (Romans 8:31). Afraid that I'm not safe? God has committed Himself to my welfare (Romans 8:28). He loves me. I can trust Him.
As I believe this, I find the courage to begin interacting with you in new ways. As I focus on what I already have in Him instead of what you might think of me, I can resist the put-down that would make me feel superior than you, the clever joke at your expense. I approach relationships with less fear, and I'm less afraid to show you who I really am, because I'm secure in Christ's love, no matter what you think of me or how you treat me.
But I forget the truth about myself all the time, and return to living as though I have to establish my own reputation and protect myself. Here's where God is so patient with me. He never seems to tire of gently reminding me of His love, and of how He wants me to love others as He loves me, no matter how often I fail to do so. His gentleness gives me the courage to admit that I've blown it, instead of hiding in defensiveness and shame.
I'm not doing the Christian life perfectly, particularly in this area of my life. In fact, some days I'm not even doing it adequately! But as God gives me the grace to believe that He really loves me, I'm slowly changing. Will you join me in seeking to live kind, rather than witty, lives before His face? Jesus said that all people will know that we're His disciples if we have love for one another (John 13:35). You, too, can have the courage to live a more loving life if you're His, because He loves you.
How Do You Like Me So Far?
I was standing in
line in a crowded military pharmacy. My son Eric was only two years
old, and very sick with a high fever. We'd just seen the doctor, and he
said that Eric needed to start on his antibiotics immediately. Eric had
also been recently diagnosed with autism, but I didn't know much about
it yet. If I did, I'd have realized that the crowded, noisy pharmacy
was a set-up for a meltdown, because autistic kids have hypersensitive
hearing and find it hard to process lots of input at the same time.
Eric began to scream, and threw himself on the floor. Somehow, in the heat of the moment, I didn't realize that we could just leave this pharmacy and go to another. Instead, I tried to comfort Eric, but he just wouldn't stop screaming. Behind me an elderly woman said loudly, to no one in particular, "I always made sure my children behaved in public. Young people today don't know how to control their kids."
I remember the burning shame as if it were yesterday, as well as anger at being judged by someone who didn't know what I was facing. I was doing the best that I could! Perhaps most vividly, I remember the anger I felt toward myself, anger that I cared so much what a stranger thought.
In
response, I became even more of a control freak than I was before I had
him. I don't think that this was an altogether bad thing, at least not when he was small. (I'll blog another time on being a controlling parent during adolescence!) Eric's early
intervention therapists wanted me to be as consistent as possible with
him, and frankly, if I had less of a desire to get his behavior under
control, I don't think I would have been as consistent as I was. But I wasn't doing it just for him--I was doing it for me, too.
I remember the burning shame as if it were yesterday, as well as anger at being judged by someone who didn't know what I was facing. I was doing the best that I could! Perhaps most vividly, I remember the anger I felt toward myself, anger that I cared so much what a stranger thought. I
think that every sensitive mother struggles with embarrassment about
her child's behavior. But for me, Eric's autism felt like a life
sentence in condemnation hell! I was powerless over his condition, but
I wanted to be able to control him, so I wouldn't have to feel that
shame. The problem was, Eric was completely unpredictable, didn't
understand what I was telling him, and didn't respond to discipline in
those early days.
In my last post, I talked about how the desire to control often springs from fear. But there's another kind of fear that many of us struggle with--the fear of losing the approval of others. Yep, under that control freak exterior often lurks a committed people pleaser.
Many of us who've experienced hurts in the past have developed long, exquisitely sensitive antennas that are constantly in search of evidence that there may be a problem. For some of us, this was once a survival necessity. Being able to recognize in advance when that person was about to blow might buy us enough time to hide. But what started out as an early warning system has become a way of life for some of us. Even though we're no longer in danger, we're still trying to protect ourselves by figuring out what the important people in our lives want from us, and trying to give it to them. The problem is, we lose our true selves in the process.
Proverbs 29:25 says, "Fear of man will prove to be a snare, but whoever trusts in the Lord is kept safe." Can it really be that simple? When I recognize that I'm not being honest because of my people pleasing, I can draw in those antennas, and deliberately focus my mind on what God wants from me, rather than on what I think you want from me.
This will be a discouraging exercise, especially at first, because I'll constantly be catching myself adjusting my behavior to what I think are your expectations. But if I keep at it, I will begin to change. I'll also probably struggle with shame and condemnation, as I realize how often I'm failing. But I can counter this by reminding myself of the Gospel:
Many of us who've experienced hurts in the past have developed long, exquisitely sensitive antennas that are constantly in search of evidence that there may be a problem. For some of us, this was once a survival necessity. Being able to recognize in advance when that person was about to blow might buy us enough time to hide. But what started out as an early warning system has become a way of life for some of us. Even though we're no longer in danger, we're still trying to protect ourselves by figuring out what the important people in our lives want from us, and trying to give it to them. The problem is, we lose our true selves in the process.
Proverbs 29:25 says, "Fear of man will prove to be a snare, but whoever trusts in the Lord is kept safe." Can it really be that simple? When I recognize that I'm not being honest because of my people pleasing, I can draw in those antennas, and deliberately focus my mind on what God wants from me, rather than on what I think you want from me.
This will be a discouraging exercise, especially at first, because I'll constantly be catching myself adjusting my behavior to what I think are your expectations. But if I keep at it, I will begin to change. I'll also probably struggle with shame and condemnation, as I realize how often I'm failing. But I can counter this by reminding myself of the Gospel:
God didn't choose me because I'm good. He chose me because He is love.These truths give me the courage to keep trying to change. The ability to break even deeply embedded habits is the birthright of God's children. This one is such an integral part of who I've become that I could be tempted to despair. But the God who created me and planned all my days intends only good for me as I look to Him, in faith, to remake me in His image. Therefore I can have great hope.
God knew when He chose me that I'd fail to live by faith over and over again.
God sent His Son to live a perfect life in my place. When I trusted Christ, He gave me credit for Jesus' perfect record, and for Jesus' death on the cross for my sins.
I can rest my confidence in the fact that I have Jesus' perfect record and the Father's forgiveness, instead of riding an emotional roller-coaster between pride when I'm doing well, and despair when I'm not.
When I blow it, if I confess my failure He'll always forgive me, and give me the grace to keep practicing this new way of life by faith.
"And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into His image, from one degree of glory to another. For this comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit" (2 Corinthians 3:18).
I'm In Control Here!
Those of you who are old enough to remember when President Reagan was shot in the chest, in 1981, may remember Secretary of State Alexander Haig's famous statement to the press while the President was in surgery, "I'm in control here." He actually had no authority to say this, and there was a big brouhaha in the news for weeks afterward about it. I joked at the time that IMHO, Haig was really stating his philosophy of life, not his official status. The fact that this statement could pass his lips was de facto evidence that he was a certifiable control freak.
Well, I suppose it takes one to know one! Here's a recent anecdote from my own personal "control files." I'd been urging a counselee to read a book, and she'd finally agreed reluctantly. She told me she'd order it right away, and I launched right into telling her "the best way" to get it. Her response was beautiful. She said, "Please don't tell me how to order the book." She could have said, "I know how to order a book." That would have been a well-deserved rebuke, but it wouldn't have reached the heart of how I'd unwittingly offended her. Instead, her reply told me that I'd made her feel pushed around. Way to speak the truth in love, dear sister! This got me thinking about those of us who have control issues, which in turn prompted this post.
Those of us who've been hurt by the domination of others in the past usually hate feeling controlled by others. But most of us are also controlling people ourselves, each in our own ways. You may not be in the habit of trying to make sure others do things "the best way" (ie: your way) but maybe you like to have things in your own space "just so," and are quietly upset when others disturb it. Perhaps you have a routine you feel you must follow, and any deviation from it makes you very uncomfortable. You may not feel safe if you haven't balanced your checkbook twice, or even three times, every month. Maybe you even engage in eating disorders or self-injury because although you're not in control of anything else in your life, nobody can stop you from doing this one thing your own way, whenever you want.
Why do those of us who've been hurt by controllers so often have issues of our own? It's because we've lived with the pain of not feeling safe while under the power of those who didn't have our best interests at heart. We try to make ourselves safe. It's a fear response.
After a violent sexual assault in a public restroom, many years ago, I avoided them completely for years. Now, if you'd asked me if I thought I could prevent future assaults simply by avoiding one kind of place, I'd have told you that of course I didn't believe that. I was locking the barn door after the horse had already escaped. But realizing this didn't change the fact that I wasn't going to feel safe if I didn't continue to lock that particular barn door.
I've come a long way since those days, but from time to time the Lord still opens my eyes to the many ways that fear, and my responsive desire to control things, can direct my choices. For example, when I pressed my counselee too hard, it really wasn't because I wanted to control her--it was because I was afraid of what might happen to her if she didn't read that book. I wanted to make sure she was safe. I also wanted her to make me feel safe about her safety, and I tried to make this happen by pushing her to do what I felt was best for her.
This is obviously about more than just my subjective feeling of safety, isn't it? In fact, the ugly truth is that I have delusions of sovereignty! When I'm trying to control people or situations, I'm forgetting that God is God, not me. He's sovereign over all things, and I'm not. Most importantly, I'm not reminding myself that God is good, that He loves me, and that He loves the rest of His people, including my counselee. I can trust Him.
I'm also forgetting that I don't have the ability to keep myself, or anyone else, safe. Only God can protect me. Hear the testimony of Scripture:
In my focus on trying to make myself feel safe, I'm forgetting that God has ordained a way for me to influence the outcome of events that I'm concerned about. It's called prayer. Yes, the truth is that apart from Christ I can do nothing (John 15:5), but He can do anything, and He's committed Himself to always hear my concerns. It's one of my privileges as the adopted child of my Heavenly Father (Romans 8:15,16).
What an incredible relief! Sometimes control freaks like me carry the weight of the world on their shoulders, because we're reacting from old habits of thought instead of remembering to renew our minds with the truth of the Gospel.
I slip back into the habit, all the time, of behaving as though it all depends upon me. When this happens, what a comfort it is to recall that "He knows our frame. He remembers that we are dust" (Psalm 103:14). I'm going to continue to mess up. My heart's default setting is to believe and to behave as though I'm the god of my own little world. I forget to look to God in prayer, and try to make things happen the way I think that they should, so I can feel safe.
But each time I come to him and say, "Father, I've done it again," He always forgives me. He never berates me, or tells me that I'd better shape up, or else. He knows that I forget all the time, and He understands. It's safe to come to Him in repentance. So many times in my life I've not been safe, but I'm safe with Him. He'll always love me. I'll always be His, and He'll always be mine.
Well, I suppose it takes one to know one! Here's a recent anecdote from my own personal "control files." I'd been urging a counselee to read a book, and she'd finally agreed reluctantly. She told me she'd order it right away, and I launched right into telling her "the best way" to get it. Her response was beautiful. She said, "Please don't tell me how to order the book." She could have said, "I know how to order a book." That would have been a well-deserved rebuke, but it wouldn't have reached the heart of how I'd unwittingly offended her. Instead, her reply told me that I'd made her feel pushed around. Way to speak the truth in love, dear sister! This got me thinking about those of us who have control issues, which in turn prompted this post.
Those of us who've been hurt by the domination of others in the past usually hate feeling controlled by others. But most of us are also controlling people ourselves, each in our own ways. You may not be in the habit of trying to make sure others do things "the best way" (ie: your way) but maybe you like to have things in your own space "just so," and are quietly upset when others disturb it. Perhaps you have a routine you feel you must follow, and any deviation from it makes you very uncomfortable. You may not feel safe if you haven't balanced your checkbook twice, or even three times, every month. Maybe you even engage in eating disorders or self-injury because although you're not in control of anything else in your life, nobody can stop you from doing this one thing your own way, whenever you want.
Why do those of us who've been hurt by controllers so often have issues of our own? It's because we've lived with the pain of not feeling safe while under the power of those who didn't have our best interests at heart. We try to make ourselves safe. It's a fear response.
After a violent sexual assault in a public restroom, many years ago, I avoided them completely for years. Now, if you'd asked me if I thought I could prevent future assaults simply by avoiding one kind of place, I'd have told you that of course I didn't believe that. I was locking the barn door after the horse had already escaped. But realizing this didn't change the fact that I wasn't going to feel safe if I didn't continue to lock that particular barn door.
I've come a long way since those days, but from time to time the Lord still opens my eyes to the many ways that fear, and my responsive desire to control things, can direct my choices. For example, when I pressed my counselee too hard, it really wasn't because I wanted to control her--it was because I was afraid of what might happen to her if she didn't read that book. I wanted to make sure she was safe. I also wanted her to make me feel safe about her safety, and I tried to make this happen by pushing her to do what I felt was best for her.
This is obviously about more than just my subjective feeling of safety, isn't it? In fact, the ugly truth is that I have delusions of sovereignty! When I'm trying to control people or situations, I'm forgetting that God is God, not me. He's sovereign over all things, and I'm not. Most importantly, I'm not reminding myself that God is good, that He loves me, and that He loves the rest of His people, including my counselee. I can trust Him.
I'm also forgetting that I don't have the ability to keep myself, or anyone else, safe. Only God can protect me. Hear the testimony of Scripture:
Unless the Lord guards the city, the watchman stays awake in vain (Psalm 127:1b).
All who go down to the dust shall kneel before Him, those who cannot keep themselves alive (Psalm 22:29).
I will lie down and sleep in peace, for you alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety (Psalm 4:8).
In my focus on trying to make myself feel safe, I'm forgetting that God has ordained a way for me to influence the outcome of events that I'm concerned about. It's called prayer. Yes, the truth is that apart from Christ I can do nothing (John 15:5), but He can do anything, and He's committed Himself to always hear my concerns. It's one of my privileges as the adopted child of my Heavenly Father (Romans 8:15,16).
What an incredible relief! Sometimes control freaks like me carry the weight of the world on their shoulders, because we're reacting from old habits of thought instead of remembering to renew our minds with the truth of the Gospel.
I slip back into the habit, all the time, of behaving as though it all depends upon me. When this happens, what a comfort it is to recall that "He knows our frame. He remembers that we are dust" (Psalm 103:14). I'm going to continue to mess up. My heart's default setting is to believe and to behave as though I'm the god of my own little world. I forget to look to God in prayer, and try to make things happen the way I think that they should, so I can feel safe.
But each time I come to him and say, "Father, I've done it again," He always forgives me. He never berates me, or tells me that I'd better shape up, or else. He knows that I forget all the time, and He understands. It's safe to come to Him in repentance. So many times in my life I've not been safe, but I'm safe with Him. He'll always love me. I'll always be His, and He'll always be mine.
Oh, what peace we often forfeit,
Oh, what needless pain we bear,
All because we do not carry
Everything to God in prayer.
When You Realize You've Really Messed Up
I've had Nehemiah 8:10--"the joy of the Lord is your strength"--on my heart for a couple of months now. Those of you who follow me on Twitter have seen my tweets about it. I've wanted to blog about it for awhile, but I've hesitated for fear of sounding as though all you have to do is say, "Praise the Lord, anyhow," and everything will be fine. So I asked the Lord to show me how to tackle this topic in a way that's not superficial or simplistic.
I've decided to use a little allegory to show how the Lord has worked in my life over the years since I came to faith. I was a deeply troubled Christian for a LONG time, and I still struggle sometimes. It's really me in the story that follows, and this is what God has taught me.
The joy of the Lord is my strength. I don't have to pretend to others that I'm doing fine in my Christian walk when I'm really not. I can come to worship with my tunic on backwards and my veil torn and snotty if that's what it takes to get me there. He'll clean me up if I'll just come.
The joy of the Lord is my strength. I can rejoice that I've heard His Word and understood it (Nehemiah 8:12). Understanding what He requires of me is the first step. Then, as I rejoice in His goodness and His love, I gain the strength to walk in obedience. I don't have to stay paralyzed by guilt and shame, or give up and run away from Him.
"Holy joy will be oil to the wheels of our obedience."--Matthew Henry
I've decided to use a little allegory to show how the Lord has worked in my life over the years since I came to faith. I was a deeply troubled Christian for a LONG time, and I still struggle sometimes. It's really me in the story that follows, and this is what God has taught me.
Return with me to the time of the restoration of God's chosen people to the Promised Land after the Babylonian Exile. Ezra the Scribe and Nehemiah the Governor have called a great convocation, and I'm in the front row, eager to worship God. We open with praise, and I have my hands in the air and an ecstatic look on my face as I sing to the Lord. I like this part.The joy of the Lord is my strength. I can bear the truth about myself because it's not the end of the story. I can rejoice to remember that I have no righteousness of my own, and know that it's OK, because I have His. This gives me the strength I need to acknowledge that I didn't earn my place at the feast He's laid for me, either, and that's OK too. I'm not invited because I'm good enough. I'm invited because I'm His.
You can spot me easily. I have my tunic on backwards, and my hair is tangled because I couldn't find my comb. My veil, my covering for worship before the Lord, has a big tear in it. My husband is an Amorite, and my life is messy. I love God, but I'm not living in a way that honors Him.
Ezra starts to read the Law. This is the first time I've heard all of God's law read, and as Ezra reads the Levites move among us, explaining it so that we can understand. Uh-oh. I knew about the Not Marrying Amorites part; I've had the general sense that I'm not honoring God when I fight with my husband, but as I listen, I realize for the first time that my sin is far worse than I'd ever dreamed.
A deep sense of failure begins to overwhelm me. I realize that I've really messed up. I'd thought my sins were about a few rules I'd broken. But as the full impact of what God intends for me as a member of His people pours over me, I'm convulsed by shame, disgust and remorse for my sin. I recognize that getting right with God will require more than confessing a few sinful deeds and promising to try harder. In fact, I don't even know how to make right all the things that are wrong with me.
I begin to weep, and without thinking, wipe my nose with my veil. Great! Now my covering isn't just torn, it's snotty, too. I give up! I can't live this life of faith. I may as well go back to Babylon. Or maybe I'll run away to Egypt. I hear they have leeks and onions there.
Others around me are crying, too. I'm not the only one who's feeling hopeless. Nehemiah notices, and says:This day is holy to the Lord your God. Do not mourn or weep... Go your way. Eat the fat and drink sweet wine and send portions to anyone who has nothing ready, for this day is holy to our Lord. And do not be grieved, for the joy of the Lord is your strength (Nehemiah 8:9-10).The Levites remind us that we can rejoice that we've heard the Law and understood it. It's so very painful to recognize how profound our failure is, but we can rejoice because we're God's people. He condemns His enemies, but He corrects His children. He's shown us what we're doing wrong because He intends to restore us, not reject us. He loves us.
My neighbors invite me to their home for the feast. I blow my nose hard into my veil. It's OK. I'll wash it tomorrow. Today I'm going to rejoice in the Lord, and He'll give me the strength to start cleaning up my act once the feast is over.
The joy of the Lord is my strength. I don't have to pretend to others that I'm doing fine in my Christian walk when I'm really not. I can come to worship with my tunic on backwards and my veil torn and snotty if that's what it takes to get me there. He'll clean me up if I'll just come.
The joy of the Lord is my strength. I can rejoice that I've heard His Word and understood it (Nehemiah 8:12). Understanding what He requires of me is the first step. Then, as I rejoice in His goodness and His love, I gain the strength to walk in obedience. I don't have to stay paralyzed by guilt and shame, or give up and run away from Him.
"Holy joy will be oil to the wheels of our obedience."--Matthew Henry
Oh, The Shame!
This morning, I was ashamed of my last facebook status update. I'll pause here to let my facebook friends go back and look at it. You know you want to! (Five minutes of elevator music) Okay, everyone back with me now?
Maybe right now you're wondering what there was about that last update to make me ashamed. Yeah, I was wondering the same thing for a while today! Okay, so it did turn out to be about underwear. And yes, I didn't like having identified myself as someone who wasn't in the know, among a crowd of women posting "black!" "pink!" "industrial beige" (cute!) and enjoying sharing the unspoken joke.
For those of you who don't know what I'm talking about because you're not on facebook, apparently an email went out yesterday encouraging women to post what color bra they were wearing as a status update, to support breast cancer awareness. And I didn't get the email. I wanted to know what was going on. So I wrote a status update. I chose a random color and asked someone to clue me in to what was going on, and she did. I made a bunch of jokes about it, and teased back and forth with the women who responded to my post. It was cute, and it was fun. But in my heart, I was ashamed. Why did I feel such a powerful emotion?
Shame is guilt's ugly stepsister. It's guilt on steroids. For me it's an overwhelming, overpowering, visceral response that feels automatic. Sometimes the experience of shame prompts other emotions in me--fearful hiding from others, or angry lashing out--in a way that also feels automatic. Sometimes I hide it so well, even from myself, that I don't know until sometime later that the problem was that I was in the grip of shame. Shame is also irrational. Believe me, I tried for years to talk myself out of having powerful emotional responses to seemingly trivial things, to no avail. Shame just won't submit to logic. What's up with that?
Those of us who have experienced serious mistreatment in our past often struggle with shame--shame that may be unrelated to our actual experiences of victimization. In fact, I was ashamed for years of the simple fact that I'd been victimized. I thought it made me a permanently disturbed individual. And there are plenty of mental health professionals out there who believe this. I was taught it, myself, in my psychiatry training.
They don't understand the power of the Gospel! I don't know why God has allowed so much suffering in my life. In fact, for a long time after I was saved, I was stuck on that point. I understood that God is sovereign, and that these were the trials that He'd ordained for me, but what I thought He'd ordained was a life of permanent second-class Christianhood. I didn't understand the power of the Gospel!
Here's the truth about me. God is glorifying Himself in my life. He is showing the world what He can do in a life that's yielded to Him. I still struggle sometimes, like I did this morning for a little while. But I should still be a complete emotional mess, and I'm not. In fact, with every passing year I trust Him more, and as I trust Him more I react to fewer things in this overwhelming way. And even when I really fall apart, I snap back much faster than I used to.
Why do I struggle with shame? I think it's because shameful things I've done, shameful things that have been done to me, and shame responses to others' unkindness have gotten mixed up inside of me. We are spirituophysical beings (we have spirits and physical bodies). The thoughts we think produce emotional responses, and because our emotions are connected via our brains to our bodies, powerful emotions can register viscerally. (See my book, Will Medicine Stop the Pain?, for a fuller explanation of this.) We can develop a habitual response of panic that has a prominent physical component in response to things that shame us, frighten us, or provoke any strong emotional response. These habitual responses are really hard to break, because the emotions associated with them are so strong.
So the mental health professionals are right. There really should be no hope for someone like me. I should be messed up for life. And indeed, there is no hope for me apart from the power of the gospel!
In my seemingly hopeless life, here's what's restoring my soul: Jesus didn't just take my sin when He hung there on the Cross. He took my shame, too. He hung there naked, totally exposed to the ridicule of sinful men. And that was nothing compared to the shame he felt as the Father charged Him with all my shameful sins, all the shameful sins of my abusers, and the sins of the rest of His people. How humiliating for the spotless, sinless God-Man to bear the weight of His Father's disgust! How heartbreaking to see His beloved Father turn His back on Him!
I love the gospel song, "It Is Well With My Soul," and especially this verse:
I'm a princess
And if you're Christ's, no matter what your history, so are you! Bibbidi Bobbidi Boo.
Maybe right now you're wondering what there was about that last update to make me ashamed. Yeah, I was wondering the same thing for a while today! Okay, so it did turn out to be about underwear. And yes, I didn't like having identified myself as someone who wasn't in the know, among a crowd of women posting "black!" "pink!" "industrial beige" (cute!) and enjoying sharing the unspoken joke.
For those of you who don't know what I'm talking about because you're not on facebook, apparently an email went out yesterday encouraging women to post what color bra they were wearing as a status update, to support breast cancer awareness. And I didn't get the email. I wanted to know what was going on. So I wrote a status update. I chose a random color and asked someone to clue me in to what was going on, and she did. I made a bunch of jokes about it, and teased back and forth with the women who responded to my post. It was cute, and it was fun. But in my heart, I was ashamed. Why did I feel such a powerful emotion?
Shame is guilt's ugly stepsister. It's guilt on steroids. For me it's an overwhelming, overpowering, visceral response that feels automatic. Sometimes the experience of shame prompts other emotions in me--fearful hiding from others, or angry lashing out--in a way that also feels automatic. Sometimes I hide it so well, even from myself, that I don't know until sometime later that the problem was that I was in the grip of shame. Shame is also irrational. Believe me, I tried for years to talk myself out of having powerful emotional responses to seemingly trivial things, to no avail. Shame just won't submit to logic. What's up with that?
Those of us who have experienced serious mistreatment in our past often struggle with shame--shame that may be unrelated to our actual experiences of victimization. In fact, I was ashamed for years of the simple fact that I'd been victimized. I thought it made me a permanently disturbed individual. And there are plenty of mental health professionals out there who believe this. I was taught it, myself, in my psychiatry training.
They don't understand the power of the Gospel! I don't know why God has allowed so much suffering in my life. In fact, for a long time after I was saved, I was stuck on that point. I understood that God is sovereign, and that these were the trials that He'd ordained for me, but what I thought He'd ordained was a life of permanent second-class Christianhood. I didn't understand the power of the Gospel!
Here's the truth about me. God is glorifying Himself in my life. He is showing the world what He can do in a life that's yielded to Him. I still struggle sometimes, like I did this morning for a little while. But I should still be a complete emotional mess, and I'm not. In fact, with every passing year I trust Him more, and as I trust Him more I react to fewer things in this overwhelming way. And even when I really fall apart, I snap back much faster than I used to.
Why do I struggle with shame? I think it's because shameful things I've done, shameful things that have been done to me, and shame responses to others' unkindness have gotten mixed up inside of me. We are spirituophysical beings (we have spirits and physical bodies). The thoughts we think produce emotional responses, and because our emotions are connected via our brains to our bodies, powerful emotions can register viscerally. (See my book, Will Medicine Stop the Pain?, for a fuller explanation of this.) We can develop a habitual response of panic that has a prominent physical component in response to things that shame us, frighten us, or provoke any strong emotional response. These habitual responses are really hard to break, because the emotions associated with them are so strong.
So the mental health professionals are right. There really should be no hope for someone like me. I should be messed up for life. And indeed, there is no hope for me apart from the power of the gospel!
In my seemingly hopeless life, here's what's restoring my soul: Jesus didn't just take my sin when He hung there on the Cross. He took my shame, too. He hung there naked, totally exposed to the ridicule of sinful men. And that was nothing compared to the shame he felt as the Father charged Him with all my shameful sins, all the shameful sins of my abusers, and the sins of the rest of His people. How humiliating for the spotless, sinless God-Man to bear the weight of His Father's disgust! How heartbreaking to see His beloved Father turn His back on Him!
I love the gospel song, "It Is Well With My Soul," and especially this verse:
My sin, oh the bliss of this glorious thought,Well, here's good news for the shameful. My shame is nailed to the Cross, too, and I bear it no more. Praise the Lord, oh, my soul! Hear the first promise the Lord ministered to me when I was saved:
My sin, not in part, but the whole,
Is nailed to the Cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, Praise the Lord, oh, my soul!
Fear not, for you will not be ashamed,Now, like all good things that are ours in Christ, this doesn't just appear in our lives like magic. But if we believe that it's ours by faith, we can begin stepping out, believing that God will work it into us:
Be not confounded, for you will not be disgraced.
For you will forget the shame of your youth... (Isaiah 54:4)
...Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who is at work in you, both to will and to work for His good pleasure (Philippians 2:12,13).How does this happen practically in my life? First I have to acknowledge to myself that I'm struggling with shame. Sometimes it's not immediately obvious that this is what the problem is, so I ask the Lord to show me what's troubling me. When He does, I go to Him as openly as I can manage in prayer, acknowledging that I'm ashamed and confused. I ask for His grace to trust that He has taken my shame and I need bear it no more. Then, believing that I have what I asked for, because He's promised it to me, I rest in that promise and thank Him for His provision. And it's true: if God loves me and is for me, what does it matter even if the rest of the world thinks I'm a hopeless loser? (And of course, they really don't--that's just my shame talking!)
In God, whose word I praise,In another precious passage on shame, God makes an unwanted baby girl who was going to be buzzard food into a princess. Check it out: Ezekiel 16:3-14. But please don't go any further than verse 14. The Lord is speaking to unfaithful Israel, describing first their cleansing, and then their falling away, and His language is very strong to His unfaithful covenant people after verse 14. This won't be helpful to you! Instead, focus upon the first eleven verses: how the Lord cleans up the totally unworthy, dresses them in fine fabric, gold, and pearls, and feeds them with the finest flour. He even takes that defiled, unwanted girl and marries her. Amazing love, indeed! Remind yourself that removal of shame is the rightful heritage of those who take it to the Cross.
in God I trust; I shall not be afraid.
What can mere man do to me? (Psalm 56:4)
I'm a princess
And if you're Christ's, no matter what your history, so are you! Bibbidi Bobbidi Boo.
My Theme Song For 2010
I don't know when I've been so moved by new music as I was by my friend singer-songwriter Diana Torres Anderson's first album! All of you may not agree with every theological nuance in her lyrics, but you can't help but be blessed by her love for the Lord and her poetic gifts. She graciously gave me permission to share my favorite song with you. Listen to it here: Giving_It_All.mp3
Here's the cover art from the album, Good Soil, and a picture of Diana.
If you like this taste and want to order the album, you can contact Diana at jaelhousemusic@gmail.com. Enjoy!
Here's the cover art from the album, Good Soil, and a picture of Diana.
The Victim Trap and Overactive Guilt Glands
This holiday season has been a blessing in an unusual way. I've had the opportunity to make peace in a relationship that had been estranged for a very long time. I also did my best to make peace in another relationship, but I don't yet know what the outcome of that one will be. Those of you who know me well will not be surprised to learn that I went hard down in the middle of this "most wonderful time of the year" with my annual Christmas cold, because I definitely react to stress in my life by getting sick!
While thinking about my own responses in these two painful situations recently, the scales fell off my eyes about my own role, and I saw clearly for the first time how much I like to see myself as an innocent victim. This is the "victim trap."
When I see the sins of others, it's as though I'm looking at them through a magnifying lens. On the other hand, when I look at my own contribution to the problem, I like to flip the lens around so it minimizes my sin. I do this because my heart is naturally deceitful (Jeremiah 17:9), but also because I'm very familiar with the victim role and it's comfortable to me.
The problem is, when I flip the lens over and minimize my contribution to any problem, I'm choosing to see myself as powerless to impact the situation for good or evil. And that sense of powerlessness is a trap. Part of me doesn't like to feel powerless, but another part feels safer if I can say, "It's not my fault and I can't help it." This helps me deal with the guilt I feel when I think about my failures.
But the truth is that I was powerless at some earlier points in my life, but that's not true for me today. So if I want to be able to view my problems honestly, I need to look at them biblically. I have to acknowledge these truths:
As I look at my problems biblically, I find that I'm never just an innocent victim, even when the problem really isn't primarily my fault.
Why am I snared so often by the victim trap? I think that one reason I'm tempted is that I have "overactive guilt glands." Some of you know exactly what I mean. You've been dealt with harshly by someone you loved and depended upon for a prolonged period--maybe while growing up, or maybe in your marriage. You've been criticized so long that you've become very sensitive to it. Perhaps you constantly feel that you aren't good enough. Maybe you even fear that God is never satisfied with you, because your conscience has become overly sensitive as a result of living for a long time with someone who was critical, particularly in childhood.
I lived my Christian life for years believing that many of God's most precious promises to His people in Scripture didn't apply to me, because I wasn't one of the "godly" or "righteous." Although I understood intellectually that God had declared me righteous in Christ, I continued to believe that my performance disqualified me from taking confidence in the sure truth God was pleased with me in Christ, and that all of His promises applied to me.
Here's the problem. If you don't believe that you're really, truly accepted, loved, and valued by your Heavenly Father, you'll find it very difficult to admit your sins even to yourself, because the guilt feels almost unbearable. But if you can't admit to yourself that you've failed, you also can't take your guilt to the cross and find the blessedness that comes from knowing that you've been forgiven, and are accepted by God (Psalm 32:1-5). And so you'll be tempted to fall into the victim trap. But the victim trap produces a counterfeit confidence, because it tempts you to place your faith in your own innocence, instead of where it belongs, in the spotless life and sinless death of your Savior.
But the beautiful thing about the Gospel is that the more we preach it to ourselves, reminding ourselves of God's acceptance of us in Christ, the more naturally it comes to us to remember the truth, and step out in faith in a different way. I have an old habit of falling into the victim trap, but the truth of the Gospel and the power of the Holy Spirit are enabling me to live a different way as I preach the Gospel to myself every day. May God grant you the grace to do the same in this new year!
While thinking about my own responses in these two painful situations recently, the scales fell off my eyes about my own role, and I saw clearly for the first time how much I like to see myself as an innocent victim. This is the "victim trap."
When I see the sins of others, it's as though I'm looking at them through a magnifying lens. On the other hand, when I look at my own contribution to the problem, I like to flip the lens around so it minimizes my sin. I do this because my heart is naturally deceitful (Jeremiah 17:9), but also because I'm very familiar with the victim role and it's comfortable to me.
The problem is, when I flip the lens over and minimize my contribution to any problem, I'm choosing to see myself as powerless to impact the situation for good or evil. And that sense of powerlessness is a trap. Part of me doesn't like to feel powerless, but another part feels safer if I can say, "It's not my fault and I can't help it." This helps me deal with the guilt I feel when I think about my failures.
But the truth is that I was powerless at some earlier points in my life, but that's not true for me today. So if I want to be able to view my problems honestly, I need to look at them biblically. I have to acknowledge these truths:
- Even though I've been born again, I'm still sinful by nature, and I still commit sins.
- I have the power of the Holy Spirit, who will enable me to walk in His way, rather than the way that comes naturally to me, if I look to Him in faith (Galatians 5:16-24).
- I don't always avail myself of this power. I often sinfully choose my own ways, because I feel safer doing what comes naturally. This is the sin of unbelief, which in turn leads to other sinful choices.
- God is my refuge and my strength (Psalm 46). He is with me in my conflicts, protecting me. I don't have to respond to conflict by running away in fear. I also don't have to lash out at others in anger, believing that I must push them away to keep myself safe.
- I don't always place my trust in God. I prefer to trust in myself because I feel safer when I feel in control. This is also the sin of unbelief, and in turn leads to other sinful choices.
As I look at my problems biblically, I find that I'm never just an innocent victim, even when the problem really isn't primarily my fault.
Why am I snared so often by the victim trap? I think that one reason I'm tempted is that I have "overactive guilt glands." Some of you know exactly what I mean. You've been dealt with harshly by someone you loved and depended upon for a prolonged period--maybe while growing up, or maybe in your marriage. You've been criticized so long that you've become very sensitive to it. Perhaps you constantly feel that you aren't good enough. Maybe you even fear that God is never satisfied with you, because your conscience has become overly sensitive as a result of living for a long time with someone who was critical, particularly in childhood.
I lived my Christian life for years believing that many of God's most precious promises to His people in Scripture didn't apply to me, because I wasn't one of the "godly" or "righteous." Although I understood intellectually that God had declared me righteous in Christ, I continued to believe that my performance disqualified me from taking confidence in the sure truth God was pleased with me in Christ, and that all of His promises applied to me.
Here's the problem. If you don't believe that you're really, truly accepted, loved, and valued by your Heavenly Father, you'll find it very difficult to admit your sins even to yourself, because the guilt feels almost unbearable. But if you can't admit to yourself that you've failed, you also can't take your guilt to the cross and find the blessedness that comes from knowing that you've been forgiven, and are accepted by God (Psalm 32:1-5). And so you'll be tempted to fall into the victim trap. But the victim trap produces a counterfeit confidence, because it tempts you to place your faith in your own innocence, instead of where it belongs, in the spotless life and sinless death of your Savior.
But the beautiful thing about the Gospel is that the more we preach it to ourselves, reminding ourselves of God's acceptance of us in Christ, the more naturally it comes to us to remember the truth, and step out in faith in a different way. I have an old habit of falling into the victim trap, but the truth of the Gospel and the power of the Holy Spirit are enabling me to live a different way as I preach the Gospel to myself every day. May God grant you the grace to do the same in this new year!
Self-Comfort or God's Comfort?
It's that "most wonderful time of the year" (I'm being a little cynical here!) Please don't misunderstand me. It's an incredible blessing to celebrate the Incarnation, and if that's what you're really doing, you will find it to be wonderful. But how often are we really wearing ourselves out, trying to produce a fabulous event, because our society tells us that this is what Christmas is really about?
We can get all tied up in knots this time of year, anxious to have the perfect food, the perfect decorations, the perfect presents, and a Hallmark movie experience of family togetherness. And some of us live in family contexts that render the achievement of this family ideal well-nigh impossible. So we may live with a much deeper sense of anxiety and sadness at this time of year than at any other time.
When the weight of these painful emotions builds up, many of us struggle with compulsive habits. What do I mean by "compulsive habits?" These are the things we do, particularly when we're under stress, that have an "I can't stop doing this!" feeling about them. You know what I'm talking about: overeating, binging/purging, drinking too much alcohol, smoking, cutting, solo sex/pornography... Did I leave anything out? Is there anyone who isn't tempted, at least sometimes, by at least one of these?
Why do we do these things? It's helpful to label what we're doing in biblical terms. What we're doing when we engage in these tension-relieving habits is looking to our own resources to make us feel better. We are comforting ourselves.
The problem with this is that Bible tells us repeatedly that the Lord is our source of comfort. Hear 2 Corinthians 1:3-5:
But when I allow myself to grapple with the fact that the Gospel tells me that Christ is my comfort; when I admit that I like this as a concept but I'm not sure I want to actually give up my trust in myself, I'm opening up a new area of my life to His grace. And He'll begin to change me as I begin to openly acknowledge what I'm doing and ask Him to provide for me, instead.
But it's really important to realize that we don't just pray for victory and experience instantaneous delivery from the temptation to look to ourselves instead of the Lord--in this or any other area of our lives. Learning to look to the Lord for grace is a process, not an event. Maybe you've never thought before of this as an area in your life where you're failing to the Lord for His provision. If so, you can start today.
If you've realized this before, but have fallen back into unbelief under the stress of the season, you shouldn't be surprised. We have a sinful nature, and we all do what comes naturally when we aren't actively renewing our minds (Romans 12:2, Eph 4:22-24). But today you (okay, you and I!) can acknowledge our failures together, admit that apart from His grace we'll always fall back, and ask for new grace to look to Him instead of ourselves. He'll be faithful as we look to Him for our comfort!
We can get all tied up in knots this time of year, anxious to have the perfect food, the perfect decorations, the perfect presents, and a Hallmark movie experience of family togetherness. And some of us live in family contexts that render the achievement of this family ideal well-nigh impossible. So we may live with a much deeper sense of anxiety and sadness at this time of year than at any other time.
When the weight of these painful emotions builds up, many of us struggle with compulsive habits. What do I mean by "compulsive habits?" These are the things we do, particularly when we're under stress, that have an "I can't stop doing this!" feeling about them. You know what I'm talking about: overeating, binging/purging, drinking too much alcohol, smoking, cutting, solo sex/pornography... Did I leave anything out? Is there anyone who isn't tempted, at least sometimes, by at least one of these?
Why do we do these things? It's helpful to label what we're doing in biblical terms. What we're doing when we engage in these tension-relieving habits is looking to our own resources to make us feel better. We are comforting ourselves.
The problem with this is that Bible tells us repeatedly that the Lord is our source of comfort. Hear 2 Corinthians 1:3-5:
Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For as we share abundantly in Christ’s sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too.Do we really believe this is true? If we do, why do we keep looking to our own resources for comfort? Many of us have what I call islands of unbelief in our Christian lives--places where we haven't yet allowed the Gospel to fully speak to our struggles. So when I just go ahead and comfort myself instead of asking Christ to comfort me, what I'm really saying is, "I don't believe that You'll help me with this, Lord." Now, I don't ever speak those words. I just behave in a way that shows that I don't really believe His promises in this area of my life.
But when I allow myself to grapple with the fact that the Gospel tells me that Christ is my comfort; when I admit that I like this as a concept but I'm not sure I want to actually give up my trust in myself, I'm opening up a new area of my life to His grace. And He'll begin to change me as I begin to openly acknowledge what I'm doing and ask Him to provide for me, instead.
But it's really important to realize that we don't just pray for victory and experience instantaneous delivery from the temptation to look to ourselves instead of the Lord--in this or any other area of our lives. Learning to look to the Lord for grace is a process, not an event. Maybe you've never thought before of this as an area in your life where you're failing to the Lord for His provision. If so, you can start today.
If you've realized this before, but have fallen back into unbelief under the stress of the season, you shouldn't be surprised. We have a sinful nature, and we all do what comes naturally when we aren't actively renewing our minds (Romans 12:2, Eph 4:22-24). But today you (okay, you and I!) can acknowledge our failures together, admit that apart from His grace we'll always fall back, and ask for new grace to look to Him instead of ourselves. He'll be faithful as we look to Him for our comfort!
About Me
I'm a medical doctor, trained as a psychiatrist, currently in practice as a biblical counselor, and the author of three books on counseling issues. As an abuse survivor, cancer survivor, and autism spectrum mother, I have a special burden for people who are experiencing storms in their lives. Click the HOME link on the menu bar to learn more about me, my books, and my ministry.
