As an author's aside, I feel compelled to admit that I often date myself when I am writing. I may break down and seek a co-warrior to coroborate with me, but for the mean time, what you see is what you get.
After my salvation event in 1996, I remained bonded to flesh and self; immature, demanding, opinionated, judgmental, and often just down right rude. I repeated the same unattractive mistakes over and over, wondering why I hadn’t morphed into Melanie Wilkes at the point of spiritual surrender.I experienced a similar phenomenon when I got sober fifteen years before that. I didn’t morph into anything that time, either. My husband and family seemed to assume that once I quit drinking, everything would be all right. “Whew! Thank God that’s over!” And they went on with their lives.Mind you, I’m not faulting them—I caused plenty of grief and they responded with more compassion and forgiveness than I deserved. What they didn’t understand is that while the crisis was over for them, it was only beginning for me.I remained hurting, angry, remorseful, and scared and the steady flow of alcohol over the years had washed away my dam of mental filters. Sobriety only differed from active addiction in that I was lucid and could more keenly feel every emotional discomfort. I lashed out, flailing for a handhold of peace, self-forgiveness, and relief. Not surprisingly, my tantrums were met with reciprocating hostility, and I burnt more bridges sober than I ever did drunk.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
To Hell in a Handbasket
At this point, I would love to say that I was a victim of obscene circumstances, but unfortunately most of my troubles resulted directly from sin—my sin. Granted, much of what happened to me before I grew big enough to defend myself laid beyond my control.
My parents were far too emotionally stretched to nurture the youngest of five children. A grudging and abusive alcoholic, Dad monopolized most of my mother’s defense mechanisms. While she wasn’t looking, I fell victim to my pedophilic grandfather. Being the smallest and most defenseless in the family, my parents and older siblings seemed to take their
stress and frustration out on me and in return, I acted out the family dynamics with alarming conformity to the traditional model of dysfunction.
The sob story ends there, however. The rest of my adversities struck when I agreed to and cooperated with chemical dependency, eating disorders, occult activity, and sexual promiscuity. I disrespected my parents, mercilessly aggrieving my mother, and placed my own gain before the needs of others. By my provocative dress and manner, I thumbed my nose at every noble and respected institution.
Intrinsically, I knew right from wrong. I regularly attended church and religious education while growing up, and my mother presented an unwavering example of faith. I witnessed my father’s fatal decline to alcoholism first hand. I read the Reader’s Digest articles about the dangers of tobacco. Even though I was totally indoctrinated in the New Age movement, I still knew enough to be afraid to sleep in the same room with a deck of tarot cards.
I chose to sin because in many cases it was fun and produced desirable results—at least for the short term—and it stoked my pride. Giving into temptation often proved a lot easier than putting up a fight and in my circle of family and friends, I had little positive support or encouragement either way.
Still, the choice was incontrovertibly mine. I have no one but myself to blame for the years of bondage. I willfully and knowingly shackled myself. Even though I wasn’t sacrificing small animals or dancing around pentagons, I was obeying, ministering to, and serving the Emptier through my foolish rebellion. God forgive me!
My parents were far too emotionally stretched to nurture the youngest of five children. A grudging and abusive alcoholic, Dad monopolized most of my mother’s defense mechanisms. While she wasn’t looking, I fell victim to my pedophilic grandfather. Being the smallest and most defenseless in the family, my parents and older siblings seemed to take their
stress and frustration out on me and in return, I acted out the family dynamics with alarming conformity to the traditional model of dysfunction.
The sob story ends there, however. The rest of my adversities struck when I agreed to and cooperated with chemical dependency, eating disorders, occult activity, and sexual promiscuity. I disrespected my parents, mercilessly aggrieving my mother, and placed my own gain before the needs of others. By my provocative dress and manner, I thumbed my nose at every noble and respected institution.
Intrinsically, I knew right from wrong. I regularly attended church and religious education while growing up, and my mother presented an unwavering example of faith. I witnessed my father’s fatal decline to alcoholism first hand. I read the Reader’s Digest articles about the dangers of tobacco. Even though I was totally indoctrinated in the New Age movement, I still knew enough to be afraid to sleep in the same room with a deck of tarot cards.
I chose to sin because in many cases it was fun and produced desirable results—at least for the short term—and it stoked my pride. Giving into temptation often proved a lot easier than putting up a fight and in my circle of family and friends, I had little positive support or encouragement either way.
Still, the choice was incontrovertibly mine. I have no one but myself to blame for the years of bondage. I willfully and knowingly shackled myself. Even though I wasn’t sacrificing small animals or dancing around pentagons, I was obeying, ministering to, and serving the Emptier through my foolish rebellion. God forgive me!
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Beaten with Few Stripes
A colleague once respectfully asked what qualified me to write a book on spiritual warfare. As a mentor, like-minded in the faith, she hoped to prepare me to defend myself should a critic pose the same question with less courtesy.[1]
While I fully appreciate the gesture, (and told her so) I find it somewhat sad that the question need be asked in the first place. When I was in the Army, no one doubted my qualifications for defending the country. My uniform spoke for me. It was understood that I was lean, mean, and green!
As a submitted member of an established faith community, it should also be understood that I have been duly mentored and discipled in the finer spiritual arts. Of course, such is not always the case, especially with regard to spiritual warfare, and if believers get any training at all, it is acquired outside of the covering of the local body. Therein lays the need for credentials—to prove the validity of these “out-of-body” experiences.
At any rate, I answered the woman’s question with a glib, “School of Hard Knocks.” She acknowledged my point with a nod but went on to suggest courses to build up a marketable credibility.
I happily intend to do what ever necessary to protect my readers, but ink and paper are cheap. My treasure lies in heaven and I got a spiritual chest full of purple hearts for fifty years of pummeling at the hands of the Emptier.
How did I ever learn to fight back? The hard way, of course! Our big sister, Eve taught us that we acquire knowledge of good and evil through sin.[2] Wouldn’t it have been so much easier if God had just imprinted this information on our brains cells? He’s a tough love Advocate, however, and only occasionally lets us slide. For the rest of the journey, we pretty much learn through pain and experience. As we gain wisdom and understanding, we earn more opportunities for pain and experience.[3] It all starts at birth, when we get that slap on the fanny for surviving nine months in a water balloon.
No one, save the Son of God, Himself, boasts a unique childhood. Humankind shares this parallel experience with similar degrees of suffering, lived out in personalized scenarios. Childhood, or life for that matter, rarely generates the unprecedented events we imagine. Our pain is relative, in as much as we witness, or don’t witness, the distress of others.
[1] 1 Peter 3:15
[2] Genesis 3:1-5
[3] Luke 12:48
While I fully appreciate the gesture, (and told her so) I find it somewhat sad that the question need be asked in the first place. When I was in the Army, no one doubted my qualifications for defending the country. My uniform spoke for me. It was understood that I was lean, mean, and green!
As a submitted member of an established faith community, it should also be understood that I have been duly mentored and discipled in the finer spiritual arts. Of course, such is not always the case, especially with regard to spiritual warfare, and if believers get any training at all, it is acquired outside of the covering of the local body. Therein lays the need for credentials—to prove the validity of these “out-of-body” experiences.
At any rate, I answered the woman’s question with a glib, “School of Hard Knocks.” She acknowledged my point with a nod but went on to suggest courses to build up a marketable credibility.
I happily intend to do what ever necessary to protect my readers, but ink and paper are cheap. My treasure lies in heaven and I got a spiritual chest full of purple hearts for fifty years of pummeling at the hands of the Emptier.
How did I ever learn to fight back? The hard way, of course! Our big sister, Eve taught us that we acquire knowledge of good and evil through sin.[2] Wouldn’t it have been so much easier if God had just imprinted this information on our brains cells? He’s a tough love Advocate, however, and only occasionally lets us slide. For the rest of the journey, we pretty much learn through pain and experience. As we gain wisdom and understanding, we earn more opportunities for pain and experience.[3] It all starts at birth, when we get that slap on the fanny for surviving nine months in a water balloon.
No one, save the Son of God, Himself, boasts a unique childhood. Humankind shares this parallel experience with similar degrees of suffering, lived out in personalized scenarios. Childhood, or life for that matter, rarely generates the unprecedented events we imagine. Our pain is relative, in as much as we witness, or don’t witness, the distress of others.
[1] 1 Peter 3:15
[2] Genesis 3:1-5
[3] Luke 12:48
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Looking Out for Numero Uno
It’s amazing how exciting the Bible gets once you believe it’s true! I don’t just want to read it; I want to know every single word God said because there’s something in it for me—like the autographs in a yearbook—not only for eternity, but today! Right here! Right now! Hallelujah!
People aren’t programmed to think that way, however—well, we are, but we try to override our natural inclinations with forced propriety. From kindergarten on, children are indoctrinated in the Chip and Dale Method of social interaction (the genteel Disney characters; not the all-male review. . .) we learn manners—not to take the last cookie or the biggest helping of cake. Enough slices of pizza to feed a third world nation are tossed out with the box because no one is willing to snatch that last piece!
In theory, etiquette sounds lovely, but how can the believer be sure that it’s not just the world talking? Satan boasts to Jesus’ face that the earth has been handed over to him,[1] and the Master doesn’t appear to challenge this blatant claim.[2]
The Emptier’s been known to distort even the noblest of intentions and stink up every one of God’s best gifts for us. He reduced the blissful intimacy of marital sex to a glossary of dirty words. He befouled the integrity of authority, causing men to abuse their roles and women to resent theirs. Even Chip and Dale weren’t spared, for Pete’s sake!
The legacy of the late Kenneth E. Hagin bears much posthumous slack for what is irreverently referred to as the “name it-claim it, blab it-grab it” doctrine. With all due respect, I don’t one hundred percent agree with Hagin either, but I think his core message may have been lost in the translation. The counterfeits jumping on the prosperity bandwagon frankly give faith ministry a bad name.
When asked for the greatest commandment, Jesus answered, "The first of all the commandments is: 'Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one. And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength.' This is the first commandment. And the second, like it, is this: 'You shall love your neighbor as yourself.' There is no other commandment greater than these." (Mark 12:29-31)
The scribe didn’t specifically ask the Master for the second greatest commandment—Jesus merely volunteered that information. In the end, I suppose it’s a matter of interpretation, but as I see it, the charge presupposes that we nurture some level of self appreciation upon which to gauge our love for our fellow man. That’s not giving the last cookie away—that’s splitting it and sharing it between the two.[3] Amen?
Having said all that let me caution you not to swing wide to the other side. As Mr. Miyagi tells Daniel-san in the beloved 80’s classic movie, Karate Kid, “Balance is key!”
Fact: “We are all like an unclean thing, and all our righteousnesses are like filthy rags; we all fade as a leaf, and our iniquities, like the wind, have taken us away.” (Isaiah 64:6)
BUT . . .
“I will greatly rejoice in the Lord, My soul shall be joyful in my God; For He has clothed me with the garments of salvation, He has covered me with the robe of righteousness, As a bridegroom decks himself with ornaments, And as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.” (Isaiah 61:10)
It’s not us so much, as who we are in Christ. Without Him, we’re a stack of dry bones. In Him, we have the breath of life . . . [4] Righteousness by association, to be sure, but righteousness, none the less. Amen, and amen.
[1] Luke 4:6, New King James Version., Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc.
[2] Kenneth E. Hagin, Bible Prayer Study Course, Thirteenth Printing 2003, Faith Library Publications, 149
[3] Luke 3:11
[4] Ezekiel 37:1-14
People aren’t programmed to think that way, however—well, we are, but we try to override our natural inclinations with forced propriety. From kindergarten on, children are indoctrinated in the Chip and Dale Method of social interaction (the genteel Disney characters; not the all-male review. . .) we learn manners—not to take the last cookie or the biggest helping of cake. Enough slices of pizza to feed a third world nation are tossed out with the box because no one is willing to snatch that last piece!
In theory, etiquette sounds lovely, but how can the believer be sure that it’s not just the world talking? Satan boasts to Jesus’ face that the earth has been handed over to him,[1] and the Master doesn’t appear to challenge this blatant claim.[2]
The Emptier’s been known to distort even the noblest of intentions and stink up every one of God’s best gifts for us. He reduced the blissful intimacy of marital sex to a glossary of dirty words. He befouled the integrity of authority, causing men to abuse their roles and women to resent theirs. Even Chip and Dale weren’t spared, for Pete’s sake!
The legacy of the late Kenneth E. Hagin bears much posthumous slack for what is irreverently referred to as the “name it-claim it, blab it-grab it” doctrine. With all due respect, I don’t one hundred percent agree with Hagin either, but I think his core message may have been lost in the translation. The counterfeits jumping on the prosperity bandwagon frankly give faith ministry a bad name.
When asked for the greatest commandment, Jesus answered, "The first of all the commandments is: 'Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one. And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength.' This is the first commandment. And the second, like it, is this: 'You shall love your neighbor as yourself.' There is no other commandment greater than these." (Mark 12:29-31)
The scribe didn’t specifically ask the Master for the second greatest commandment—Jesus merely volunteered that information. In the end, I suppose it’s a matter of interpretation, but as I see it, the charge presupposes that we nurture some level of self appreciation upon which to gauge our love for our fellow man. That’s not giving the last cookie away—that’s splitting it and sharing it between the two.[3] Amen?
Having said all that let me caution you not to swing wide to the other side. As Mr. Miyagi tells Daniel-san in the beloved 80’s classic movie, Karate Kid, “Balance is key!”
Fact: “We are all like an unclean thing, and all our righteousnesses are like filthy rags; we all fade as a leaf, and our iniquities, like the wind, have taken us away.” (Isaiah 64:6)
BUT . . .
“I will greatly rejoice in the Lord, My soul shall be joyful in my God; For He has clothed me with the garments of salvation, He has covered me with the robe of righteousness, As a bridegroom decks himself with ornaments, And as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.” (Isaiah 61:10)
It’s not us so much, as who we are in Christ. Without Him, we’re a stack of dry bones. In Him, we have the breath of life . . . [4] Righteousness by association, to be sure, but righteousness, none the less. Amen, and amen.
[1] Luke 4:6, New King James Version., Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc.
[2] Kenneth E. Hagin, Bible Prayer Study Course, Thirteenth Printing 2003, Faith Library Publications, 149
[3] Luke 3:11
[4] Ezekiel 37:1-14
Sunday, September 13, 2009
A Wrech like Me
In the clearing stands a boxer, and a fighter by his tradeAnd he carries the reminders of every glove that laid him down or cut him’til he cried out in his anger and his shameI am leaving, I am leaving, but the fighter still remains . . .
--Paul Simon, “The Boxer”[1]
We are hard pressed on every side, yet not crushed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed . . .
--Another Paul, 2 Corinthians 4:8, 9
I used to wear a tee-shirt that said, “I’m the wretch the song refers to.” I threw it away when I quit being a wretch and stopped thinking of myself in wretched terms. At that point, I started peeking at my reflection though the eyes of my Beloved. “You are all fair, my love, and there is no spot in you.” (Song of Solomon 4:7) Praise God!
Regardless if we’re trembling at the altar for the first time or we’ve been there ten thousand years, bright shining as the sun, any believer can confidently make bold identity statements based on biblical promise.[2]
I’ve read countless verses that literally knocked me to my knees in awed and speechless gratitude, but I rarely hear believers profess their righteous standing in faith. Instead, many make apologetic declarations. “I’m a sinner saved by grace.” “My righteousness is as filthy rags . . . I’m the wretch the song refers to.” Is that any way for a being indwelt by the Spirit of God to carry on?
Self-effacing assertion may be made in an honest attempt at humility but ends up being more of an expression of pride—“If I can’t be the most righteous, by golly, I’ll be the sorriest sinner in this congregation!”—and the focus shifts away from the glorious Redeemer and onto the sorry sinner.
Don’t get me wrong. Chest beating is fine for unconfessed sin, but after sincere and contrite repentance, 1 John 1:9 kicks in. “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” This verse rings triumphant in any translation and I highly recommend yanking it off the fridge and cross stitching it on your heart!
In the meantime, let’s keep in mind that Scripture is wrought with all sorts of exhortation and assurance like this, so why don’t more Christians have that joy, joy, joy, joy down in their hearts? What exactly do believers believe in? What lies between the sinner’s prayer and grave? Does faith prorate the promise of salvation, in the hereafter, into abundant life in the here and now?
Ironically, believers sometimes depreciate the Word of God; dismissing it as poignant poetry for weddings and funerals. Caving into the relentless pressure of the world view, some have all but dismissed the literalism of the Bible.[3] Almost without pause, we believe Paul Harvey, Dr. Phil, and even the Emptier’s lies, but squirm when confronted with the conviction of truth that beckons to a higher purpose.
“Do you not know that those who run in a race all run, but one receives the prize? Run in such a way that you may obtain it. And everyone who competes for the prize is temperate in all things. Now they do it to obtain a perishable crown, but we for an imperishable crown.” (1 Corinthians 9:24, 25)
Personally, I don’t agree one hundred percent with anybody apart from the inspired writers of Scripture. Even Billy Graham’s saintly soul resides in a fallible jar of clay. The teaching of man is bound to be biased by doctrinal agenda or simply tainted with pride; my own not withstanding. I sit at the feet of many great teachers and preachers, but, to borrow the words of a dear and wise woman I know, I eat the chicken and leave the bones. (My proof text is too good to footnote) “Test all things; hold fast what is good.” (1 Thessalonians 5:21)
Ultimately, I trust the Word of God.
[1] © 1968 Paul Simon
[2] Kenneth E. Hagin, Bible Faith Study Course, Fourteenth Printing 2005, Faith Library Publications, 72-78
[3] Ken Ham, The Big Picture, Creation Magazine, Volume 23, Issue 2, Published March 2001, www.answersingenesis.org (accessed September 15, 2005)
--Paul Simon, “The Boxer”[1]
We are hard pressed on every side, yet not crushed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed . . .
--Another Paul, 2 Corinthians 4:8, 9
I used to wear a tee-shirt that said, “I’m the wretch the song refers to.” I threw it away when I quit being a wretch and stopped thinking of myself in wretched terms. At that point, I started peeking at my reflection though the eyes of my Beloved. “You are all fair, my love, and there is no spot in you.” (Song of Solomon 4:7) Praise God!
Regardless if we’re trembling at the altar for the first time or we’ve been there ten thousand years, bright shining as the sun, any believer can confidently make bold identity statements based on biblical promise.[2]
I’ve read countless verses that literally knocked me to my knees in awed and speechless gratitude, but I rarely hear believers profess their righteous standing in faith. Instead, many make apologetic declarations. “I’m a sinner saved by grace.” “My righteousness is as filthy rags . . . I’m the wretch the song refers to.” Is that any way for a being indwelt by the Spirit of God to carry on?
Self-effacing assertion may be made in an honest attempt at humility but ends up being more of an expression of pride—“If I can’t be the most righteous, by golly, I’ll be the sorriest sinner in this congregation!”—and the focus shifts away from the glorious Redeemer and onto the sorry sinner.
Don’t get me wrong. Chest beating is fine for unconfessed sin, but after sincere and contrite repentance, 1 John 1:9 kicks in. “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” This verse rings triumphant in any translation and I highly recommend yanking it off the fridge and cross stitching it on your heart!
In the meantime, let’s keep in mind that Scripture is wrought with all sorts of exhortation and assurance like this, so why don’t more Christians have that joy, joy, joy, joy down in their hearts? What exactly do believers believe in? What lies between the sinner’s prayer and grave? Does faith prorate the promise of salvation, in the hereafter, into abundant life in the here and now?
Ironically, believers sometimes depreciate the Word of God; dismissing it as poignant poetry for weddings and funerals. Caving into the relentless pressure of the world view, some have all but dismissed the literalism of the Bible.[3] Almost without pause, we believe Paul Harvey, Dr. Phil, and even the Emptier’s lies, but squirm when confronted with the conviction of truth that beckons to a higher purpose.
“Do you not know that those who run in a race all run, but one receives the prize? Run in such a way that you may obtain it. And everyone who competes for the prize is temperate in all things. Now they do it to obtain a perishable crown, but we for an imperishable crown.” (1 Corinthians 9:24, 25)
Personally, I don’t agree one hundred percent with anybody apart from the inspired writers of Scripture. Even Billy Graham’s saintly soul resides in a fallible jar of clay. The teaching of man is bound to be biased by doctrinal agenda or simply tainted with pride; my own not withstanding. I sit at the feet of many great teachers and preachers, but, to borrow the words of a dear and wise woman I know, I eat the chicken and leave the bones. (My proof text is too good to footnote) “Test all things; hold fast what is good.” (1 Thessalonians 5:21)
Ultimately, I trust the Word of God.
[1] © 1968 Paul Simon
[2] Kenneth E. Hagin, Bible Faith Study Course, Fourteenth Printing 2005, Faith Library Publications, 72-78
[3] Ken Ham, The Big Picture, Creation Magazine, Volume 23, Issue 2, Published March 2001, www.answersingenesis.org (accessed September 15, 2005)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
