Spiritual Life

Descending to Realism

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Idealistic.  13 years ago I puzzled over what our premarital counselor revealed to us.  We idealized marriage and each other.  I vaguely connected that idealism and marriage didn’t mix.  That idealism would be some kind of obstacle to be hurdled in our marriage.  Idealism sounded good though.  The way our counselor approached it started 13 years of occasional yet persistent head scratching.

Pessimistic.  The opposite of idealistic?  Who would get married?  Why would anyone get married if they sincerely had such low hope of success?  I’ve never seriously thought our marriage would end in divorce even on the lowest days.  Is that pride?  To think we’ll escape?  Or is it idealism?

Realistic.  Living in what is.  Recognizing what is true–the true state of myself and my husband.  It’s quite the comedown from idealism but not nearly so depressing as pessimism.  Realism is the path I’m on now.  Who am I…really?  Who is he…really?  Who is God in all of this reality?

Releasing idealism feels like a denial of what God desired in marriage.  But, even that seems to be imprisoned in idealism.  What did God really say about marriage?  Not nearly as much as I’d like Him to say, that’s for sure!  Respect, love, sacrifice, honor, submit, multiply, cherish, nurture, unify.

My most recent ponderings on marriage come from a 30-something single guy, Dietrich Bonhoeffer.  Marriage is a “yes” to God’s earth.  A “yes” to living in the present world God created and the present world that is fallen.  In marriage we worship God in His humanity and His deity.  In marriage we need not hide anything from God.  We steal nothing from “behind His back”.  He is spiritual and physical.

There’s much I’d like to cover.  There’s much my husband would like to cover.  The path for us is choosing to trust God by laying everything before Him together.  It doesn’t always happen.  Reality.

Watching the10K

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Watching the 10,000 meter Olympic race becomes a teachable moment when watched with your mom.  My kids learned this Saturday morning.  After 2 laps they all stirred having decided the Japanese team would win for sure.  Then transpired a long conversation, 20 laps long, of race strategy.   “Don’t be too sure”, I urged.  I threw out definitions of pacing.  The kids stuck around just to prove me wrong.  The Japanese would win.

The Japanese women finished near the back with looks of agony and streaming sweat.  The first place finisher blazed across the finish line with a huge smile having cruised to a strong lead in the last 5 laps.  A 10,000 meter race elicited shouts and exclamations from the kids.

Sticking around gave me 20 laps to verbally ruminate on the spiritual analogies of racing, cheating, finishing, pacing.  That’s what mom’s do, beat a lesson to death, and so I did that because that’s what I’m supposed to do.

Towards the end of the beating I realized I needed to see the 10k for myself.  For my walk with my Lord.  My race.  The reminder to give it my all and plan for a whole lot of laps.  I needed to feed my desire to finish strong and blaze across the line.

Becoming Childlike

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Come to Christ as a child.  Humble yourself like a child.  The kingdom of heaven belongs to those that are like children.  At the behest of a speaker, I’ve pondered the contrast of childish and childlike for almost 2 years now.  I’m pretty sure I recognize childishness.  3 kids roam around my house and occasionally bump into each other “on accident” causing all kinds of clamor.   They seem to do a lot “on accident.”  The kids don’t hold the monopoly on childishness in our home.  But childlike.  I scratch my head.  How do I humble myself to become childlike again?  Was I ever childlike?

Walking into the dark smelly parking garage yesterday I imagined what would need to happen to me to become childlike.  Smoother skin.  Softer hair.  Smaller.  Weaker.  Pailer.   More vulnerable.  Easily awestruck.  Easily hurt.  Naive.  Hopeful.  Dependant.  Secure.  Lacking in tact.  Without guile.  Curious.  Innocent to the ways of the world.  Parts of it sound like a particularly painful spa experience.  The other parts sound…well…impossible.

Stripping away seemed the common theme.  Sloughing off the scars of my sin and others sins against me.  Scraping away things I know that I should not know.  Carving out the abscesses cultivated from unforgiveness.  Releasing the security I make for myself and giving it up in the security of Another.  Wiping the expressions of contempt out of my heart.  Childlike.

Occasionally one of our kids will ask a stumper of a question and then lean across the table and look up at us fully expecting that we know all about jet propulsion and can explain it to him on the spot.  It strikes my heart that I don’t inquire of the Lord the same way.  I don’t tend to ask Him a stumper and then wait around fully expecting Him to know the answer much less give it to me.

Maybe that’s my way to childlike today…to ask God a stumper and look to him wide-eyed with curiosity fully expecting Him to hear, know, and reveal.

Where We Lay Our Heads

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Home.  The longing struck again last week as I lay on my bed staring at our huge wardrobe.  I wondered how we would move it again and I answered simultaneously – the same way we did the last time.  Our 3 year contract ends in 9 months and our landlord will move in and enjoy all the improvements we’ve made.  In 9 months we will be living somewhere else…again.

As much as I like to cling to the mantra that “home is where we lay our heads” my heart often does not subscribe.  Sometimes I am at peace to live on such an impossibly high plain of existence, such rest in the present and hope for the future.  Usually after a hard fought hissy fit, I finally discover…again…that nowhere else satisfies.

On the road to that place I struggle.  I want permanence!  I want to know my head will be inside these 4 walls 5 years from now!  I want to mark the door with the children’s heights because I’ll know we’ll be there until they stop growing!  I want!

I think I want that.  My friends that have “settled down” remind me that they still feel the longings to be overseas.  Moments of clarity and perspective reveal that no one really knows these things.  How many fires, floods, job losses, medical catastrophes, deaths, and divorces do I have to witness to learn?  We make our plans, God guides our steps.  So, my heart will long for home until I’m home?

So, in 9 months we move.  In 8 months we roll up the nicely painted growth chart posters and pack our boxes.  In 6 months we start looking for the impossible (we like to ask for the impossible).  In the meantime I pray, shut my mouth, and set my heart to relish the memories we still have time to make between these 4 walls…and to decide the colors of my next 4 walls.