So hang on now

I finally got around to opening my Bible. Like I said, I usually don't look forward to Bible time; it requires work and it's not always comfortable. 

For months, I've managed to keep myself procrastinated away from reading. Ignoring God can work for short periods of time like that - if I'm happy and life is going well, why would I go looking for work and potential discomfort? - but eventually, I start searching again. I have to. God is so merciful, he always brings me back.

So I read. I picked up where I left off back in November. Today's passage was Psalm 40. To make sure I'd stay awake and retain some sense of the message of the passage, I started taking notes in a way I'd never tried, writing personalized paraphrases of the parts that caught my eye.

And the passage was about me. It was to me. It was a message God's been trying to tell me for over a year. After digging my Bible out from under a bunch of stuff for the first time in months, I just happened to read that exact message in a random Psalm I'd never seen before. "If I wait patiently for the Lord, he will hear me and rescue me. I will be stable. I'll be joyful, and many will see and put their trust in the Lord. The Lord is kind to those who trust Him."

It was a "wow" moment, a gift from the God I've been avoiding. He'd led me to his Word to tell me something, and it wasn't "You're in trouble for always ignoring me." Instead, it was pure love. It was important. When it finally sticks, it will change my life.

I got up to fix dinner amazed that he'd spoken so directly to me. In the dark part of me, gray-black exhausting endless circles of despair were stilled by delicate, careful hope. Maybe this time...maybe, maybe, if I follow Him very carefully....maybe this time the message will stick.

I decided to check my Facebook before starting on the steaks, getting back into the swing of normal life after talking to God, when he gave me something else. Among the usual almost-spam, a friend who doesn't post often had typed the words "Cus God is God and He holds it together....so hang on now!"

It was so sudden, like being startled. I just stood there with my hand over my mouth and my eyes closed. The non-coincidences had lined up until I felt overwhelmed by God's work in my life, his reaching out to me when I was supposed to be the one seeking him.

I did a search of the lyric-like words and found the song they'd come from and listened to it. I was in awe, and broken by gratitude.

And to think I'd expected to fall asleep with my face in the Psalms.

Yeah we've all been lost and we've all been hurt
Where our hope is spent and our faith don't work
But nothing lasts forever
The only thing that matters
Is God is still God and He holds it together

So hang on now

The Christian Epitome

Some people look forward to that time they set aside every day to open their Bibles and read. They say it's the best part of their day. They read and pray and they talk about joy, joy in the Lord and love for Him. Everything good in their lives is a blessing from God, and everything bad is just a trial to strengthen them. You know that if you run into them at the grocery store, you're going to hear "Jesus." They're the Christian epitome.

That's not me. I've never reached that stage of good. I haven't touched my Bible since November, when I got tired of the obligation. "Read and pray" was just another thing to be checked off my daily list. The times I did start reading, it would often be with ulterior motives, nothing but a basic form of bribery; maybe if I just did this, I'd get whatever I felt I lacked. There was no joy in it, and I didn't know where the joy was supposed to come from.

When I was being honest with myself, I knew I was angry. My plans for my life weren't working out, and if there was a higher purpose for how things were going, I really didn't care.

My plans still aren't working out. Oh, sure, I get to stay home all day and do whatever I want, and I'm extremely healthy, and I'm generally very happy, and I have a family who actually likes me, and I get delicious food every day, and I have a marriage full of memories with a man who dotes on me. Sure, the core of my being holds the knowledge that no matter what happens, everything in the world is as it is supposed to be; and sure, I have the peace that comes from knowing I'm "in the clear" with the God who made the stars and governs this earth. (But still! My plans!)

So maybe I do understand where the joy is supposed to come from. Gratitude. Looking around and seeing what you've been given. Which isn't easy on those days you just feel like staring at a wall.

But the lack of Bible excitement, and the ulterior motives, and how praying isn't the best part of my day, that still makes me feel guilty. Like I'm failing. Like the opposite of the Christian epitome. I'm starting to think I'll never be perfect, that maybe I'll never talk about Jesus at the grocery store. It's pretty disappointing.

Then I remember that everything is how it's supposed to be. This is where I'm supposed to be. For now.

The Most Humiliating Moment in my Entire Marriage

It was a gorgeous un-February Friday, so warm and sunny that all the windows were open, including the front-porch window right next to my desk. I was sitting at my desk, and I watched the guy walk up to our front door. So, even if we had a thing for ignoring people who knock on the front door, which we don't, we couldn't have ignored him.

He knocked on the door, triggering Jack's foaming-at-the-mouth kill mode. One of us had to answer the door and one of us had to hold the dog, and, since Joe was in the middle of a video game and I wasn't, it was my turn to answer.

"Hi. Are you the lady of the house?"

"Yes, sir."

"All right, wonderful. I'm Pastor Lying Jerkface* from A Fake Made-Up Ministry**. Here's a booklet."

*Name changed for privacy

**Name changed for privacy 

I took the booklet. It was home-printed and spiral-bound. He pulled out a Georgia driver's license and presented it, arm held straight out, like a movie policeman flashing his badge.

"This is my ID. I have to show you my ID if I come knocking on your door."

I glanced at it because it was in my face, but felt no need to verify his identity. He was polite, older, well-dressed, wearing a tie. And also it didn't really matter who he was because I still had to stand on my porch and talk to him. But, since no other solicitors had bothered to show ID, I was impressed.

"Really?" I asked.

"Yep, have to show you my ID. It's the law in Georgia. So, I'm with this ministry, and I'm collecting donations for a shelter, a battered women and children's shelter. We have thirty-two kids there right now."

A women and children's shelter? NO WAY! That's exactly the kind of place I wanted to volunteer for when I lived in Fredericksburg!

"Oh, okay," I said politely, trying to remember if there was any cash in the house.

"I have someone who'll match every donation I collect today, up until 7:00 P.M."

"Wow, really? That's great!

"Yep. Have you ever seen the commercials on TV for Milton Ruben Chevrolet?"

"No, we don't have cable."

"Don't have cable! Well, me neither. I have one of those boxes, you know, the fifty-nine dollar boxes, and you can watch TV with them?"

"Yep, we have one of those, it's just not hooked up."

"Oh, well, it's fifty-nine dollars, and I watch TV with it, you know, the free channels."

"Yeah...we don't really watch TV."

"Well, anyway, there's commercials on there for Milton Ruben Chevrolet."

"Oh, okay," I said.

"So where are you from?" He asked.

"Virginia, originally."

"What are you doing all the way down here?"

"He got stationed at Fort Gordon," I said, pointing with my thumb back towards the house.

"Oh, I see. Do you have children?"

"Not yet."

"Then what are you waiting for?"

"The Lord, at this point," I said. He laughed.

"Just wait on the Lord, that's right. He'll provide everything you need."

Awkward? No, not at all. Not in the least. Nnnope.

The small talk continued for a few more minutes. At one point he said something like, "Whatever you can donate, all thirty-two of those children thank you."

"Well, I'm not sure I have anything, but let me go inside and check my purse," I said. I went inside and talked very quietly to Joe, who was at his desk a few feet away from the window.

"Hey Joe...you heard all that?"

 "Yeah."

There were two chunks of money in my purse: Two ones, and a twenty. I held the ones in one hand and the twenty in another. "Which one?"

"Whatever you feel you gotta do, baby."

Hooray! Joe overheard the conversation on the porch and is agreeing that this guy is legit! (Even though - take note - "Whatever you feel you gotta do, baby" is NOT "yes," and I knew it.) So I ran out there with the twenty, thinking how it was really forty with the matching donation and how awesome that was and trying to remember why I had a twenty in my purse at all, 'cause I usually don't have cash. The man reached out like he wanted to shake my hand. I gave him the $20 and tried to shake his hand at the same time, which didn't work very well and created another awkward moment.

"God bless you!" He said. 

"Who was it you said was going to match donations, by the way?" I asked, just curious.

"I told you earlier! Milton Ruben Chevrolet!"

"Oh," I said. Somehow, I hadn't interpreted the babbling about commercials as information about his sponsor. "That's just so cool for them to be doing that!" I said.

"Yes, ma'am. So, what do you do for a living?"

"I don't really have a job right now. I mean, I used to be a court reporter, and I still get some work from my office in Virginia, but that's it."

"Oh. Well, you have to focus on your career, too!"

"Doing his laundry and cooking his dinners is my career!" I said, "And that's how I like it."

He laughed. "Well, as long as that's how you like it."

I nodded and smiled a lot, and he thanked me again and left.

I went back inside and sat down at my desk, embarrassed that Joe & his friend had heard that conversation...but also really happy that I got to help. I was wondering what $40 would buy the shelter. Dishsoap? Peanut butter? Toilet paper? So many possibilities!

But then the warm fuzzies began to wear off and I started wondering. I Googled the name of the church written in the booklet he'd given me. The church was real, and just down the road. The name he introduced himself by actually was the name of the church's pastor.

It was also the name of a guy who was written up in the local news six months ago for going door-to-door asking for donations for a women's shelter, falsely claiming that the Columbia County Commissioner would match every donation he collected.

I could have panicked, but instead I just went straight for a sinking feeling of resignation.

I called the Milton Ruben Chevy dealer. Three times, actually, after being put on hold and finding the right number. I eventually spoke to a manager, who told me they weren't taking part in any such fundraiser. The manager suggested that I not give money to any person making these claims.

That's how I found out that I got scammed. I gave $20 to a liar who came to my house, wasted my time, and earned my trust.

Maddening. Infuriating. But not the worst part.

Ephesians 5:22 (like other verses) tells wives to submit to their own husbands as they do the Lord. "Submit," in this verse, is the Greek "hupotasso," for which there are many shades of meaning; one Greek lexicon uses the definition "to yield to one's admonition or advice." (NOTE: There are also, of course, verses pertaining to a husband's duties to his wife. Also, I know the whole submission thing is generally a touchy subject, but I'm staying away from that discussion. I believe it's my duty and privilege to be second-in-command, and I know it's a good plan.) 

Well, only a few days before this incident, we'd had a rather painful...DISCUSSION about a topic we've always DISCUSSED: charitable giving. I'm of the opinion that we should give away a large percentage of our income. Joe thinks it's weird and kind of stupid to give hard-earned money to strangers.

So there I was, $2 in one hand, $20 in the other, and an expectant look on my face. "Whatever you feel you gotta do, baby," Joe said. While this can mean many things, in this situation, it meant "Haven't we always talked about this? You know EXACTLY what I think. But I don't feel like defending myself against your silent self-righteous wrath for the next hour, so do whatever you want." And there went the $20.

And so the few minutes after I spoke to the Milton Ruben man were the most humiliating moments in the entire 3.5 years of our marriage. "Hey, Joe...you know how you say I shouldn't give money to people I don't know, and I get so angry, and then you get ripped to shreds and can't really defend yourself because I'm JUST TRYING TO DO THE RIGHT THING...and you know how I'm always like 'Teehee, I always do what you say!'.....but I didn't (and often don't,) and that's why this happened........uhh, yeah.........I'm not even going to try 'sorry.'"

It. was. horrible.

Joe didn't say "I told you so." He didn't have to. He did say, "From now on, I'm answering the door." He also said, "It was $20 well spent if you learned a lesson." And I did: Even when you think you know what's right, obey your husband. The rule's there for a reason.

Also, the next time someone comes a-knocking, kick them in the shin, slam the door, and call the police.

Sunrise

Being nocturnal is...well, dark. I wake up, there's no sunlight. I can watch the moon while I eat lunch. It feels cold in here no matter how much the heat is turned up. I just want to huddle in front of my PC in comfy clothes and not move or do anything useful.

But I get to see every day's sunrise.

As I write, the sun has been coming up for an hour. This is the time of day when my kitchen glows like home again after the long cold dark. When I see the sky lighten to blue through the cracks in the blinds it means it's almost time for Joe to come home from work...time to stretch, change from my nighttime sweatpants into something prettier, open the living-room blinds, start dinner, and start watching the driveway.

So dinner's cooking now. When he gets home, we'll eat, then we'll go to the Commissary.

Today I get to make a grocery list. It will say: fries cheese bacon browniemix icecream lemonade. 'Cause we were going to go to Ruby Tuesday's this weekend but then the dentist took our go-to-Ruby-Tuesday's-this-weekend money. So, instead, on Friday or Saturday we'll share a giant plate of bacon cheese fries and not share giant bowls of brownies à la mode and we'll stare at each other and smile a lot and it will be just as good as going out.

Seeing the sun come up fills me with gratitude and a kind of awe. I'm here again, just like yesterday, and I get to be part of this world for another day. I get to have one more day wonder, of simple joys and profound peace.

Today, I'll weave the routines of a household into a cloth of comfort. I'll dance with, cuddle with, laugh with my husband...and do his laundry...and clean, and cook, and absolutely love my life. My heart will praise the God who's given me everything, everything I could want.

My Death Sentence

    Because I never grounded myself in what the Bible says, I've been guided by worldly deceit (or, at best, worldly stupidity.)
    According to the world, a “bad person” harms others and is just generally scum. Because I met the world's definition of a “good person” – someone who doesn't harm others and does their best to be fair and to be kind to everyone – I felt pretty good about myself. I knew I was supposed to be asking God for forgiveness of my sins...but what sins? I'm fine. I don't do anything wrong. I'm a “good person.”
    So I rarely felt guilty about anything. Because I rarely felt guilt, I rarely felt the need for forgiveness. Because I rarely felt the need for forgiveness, I basically felt equal to God.
    So, there I was, reading the Bible (like a good person) when I got two big doses of truth.
    The first was: I deserve to die. If I were in Old Testament Israel, according to what's written in Deuteronomy 22, I'd have not one but two death sentences. We're not under that law anymore, of course, since Jesus's death, but God's perspective of the seriousness of those offenses hasn't changed. I still deserve death. Do you have any idea how disturbing that is? Here I am with every blessing imaginable – an amazing husband and a happy marriage; a safe, comfortable home; luxury, health, and my whole life ahead of me – when technically I earned death by rocks sometime back in 2004.
    When I came to that realization, I felt shaken and serious and kiss-the-ground thankful, like I just walked away from a car accident that should have killed me. I don't deserve to be here. Every second is an incredible gift.
    The second thing I learned about was God's perspective on obedience. Deuteronomy 28 starts off  talking about how, if Israel was obedient to the Lord, they would be rewarded with security, health, prosperity, every good thing imaginable. If they carefully followed God's commands, they'd be a great nation, a picture to the world of God's protection and favor.
    The chapter then lists the consequences for disobedience. The consequences include “curses, confusion, and frustration in all that you undertake to do,” failure and loss in every area of life, and warfare so bad that the resulting famine would cause mothers to eat their own children. The disobedience warning in all its solemn horror just kept going on and on. It was unsettling.
    Anyway...I'm thankful that we're not in Old Testament Israel...and so thankful that God is with me, no matter how many death sentences I deserve.