You Say We Family

Welcomed into your home,
Called me as one of your own;
But in time, I found myself
Some growth,
But also alone.
Perhaps, you had your ways,
However, the wounds of my past
Haunted my heart to beg for more.
You never got the memo;
But I also never said a word.
Personally reminded to never be a burden,
I read body language,
Interpreting rightfully or wrongly
When I was truly invited.
So, I kept to myself,
Wishing to belong
In such a way
That was forgotten
In my home growing up.

"We are family,"
I hear you say to our congregation.
And yet, I must ask,
"What does that even mean?"
You may have a specific picture,
But I promise you
There are people filled with brokenness, 
Waiting for you to fill their needs
Legitimately or illegitimately.
They may not accept anything less
Than what expectations they place
Upon your heads.

What does it mean to be family
In the Church?
How do we build relationship,
Extend friendships beyond
Our comfort circles?
What is appropriate
Within the context of our culture
And the defined limits of our lives?
On one hand, we cannot become
Isolationist; only extending
When it is convenient for us.
But we also can't let our hearts bleed out;
Bending backwards even beyond
Our capabilities or what God intends.

Biblically speaking,
What is a healthy Church family:
In its plausibility,
Connectivity,
Possibility,
In its responsibility;
And what is it not?
I promise you
If this is only named as an intention,
But never discussed on its practicality,
Wounds will be expounded
Upon which others had conducted
Damage.
Carnage created in the name of "family",
Accidently attributed to Jesus,
Will further the heartbreak
In which He intends to heal.

So, what is the answer?
I understand we all have our limits
In spite of others'
Needs and/or desires.
But on some level,
I wonder if we all must ask,
"At what point have I used my limits
As a means to excuse myself
From even the smallest extension
Of Jesus to another person?"

I am not asking for you
To become overly busy.
I am addressing the present
Culture of our church,
As a whole.
We are too small 
To be so damn cliquish.
And we come empty
Hoping others, besides
Our Father, fill our cups.

But have you noticed
That when someone disappears,
We gradually forget
To say their name -
Include them in our prayers?
We may not even bless their going out
If their absence is due to an offense
Or feeling like they fit elsewhere.
Is it too much to ask
That if someone comes to mind,
A simple text of, "How are you,"
Is all that is needed?
Or do we cut our losses,
Because it is easier to deal with
Our conscience?

And for me, 
That is of grave concern.
Even in the context of ministry,
Your children are held in positions 
Of leadership which they carry
Little influence;
For how much do they know of those
Whom they are leading?
They stay in their corner until showtime.

You want to encourage people's gifts
But wait for them
To present their offering; and even then,
The intention is shifted in how it can fit
Into your vision, or specifically,
How it fits in the church
Rather than in the Church.

You profess a desire
To become as a neighbor,
But join in activities
When others had the initial set up.
When have you been in the neighborhood,
As is, meeting the faces of whom
You want to minister?
Or do you claim you are part of the hood,
Because you bring others in?
Trust me, inviting outsiders 
For a momentary stay
Only goes a little way.
There still remains 
A division between your intention
And your application.

I don't know what the answer is.
Even in my own writing,
Am I only projecting my personal hurts;
Requiring you to carry the responsibility
Solely? I desire no such thing.
But I think there must be discussion
In the midst of criticisms.
I know I can't be the only one
Who has seen the imperfections
Of this home.
There remains a bridge
Yet to be crossed;
Besides in the name and blood of Jesus
We are related,
But I don't know if we can honestly say
We are family.

God's Goodness Rains Even on the Ungodly

     (Reflecting on Genesis 26-27) The fact that Isaac didn't retract a blessing that had been given under a guise of deception (of Jacob and Rebekah) is quite alarming.  It is quite an interesting thing that God had set His blessing, eye and hand on the one who was known for lying and manipulation.  Like, what. The. Heck?  There were so many spiritual inconsistencies, and yet, God prophesied favor and blessing on the one who least deserved it.
     Which gets me thinking...Do I demand that God bless those who I think deserve it?  There are moments, that in being wronged, I desire justice, but the truth is, I can also demand justice to the point that I will demonize the offender until accountability or change has been proven evident to my eyes.  Nothing less suffices.  But Jesus says to love our enemies.  Even when I'm hurt, can I bless my enemies?  Or do I require that God's blessings and goodness be based on one's merit?
     So often, people want mercy for themselves but require retribution for those who have done wrong.  And yet, sometimes the way God works is that He chooses to work in the offender and sinner, rather than the one who has the "perfect" background.  Can I expect God's glory and work to flourish in and through the life of someone who I've known well enough to witness their spiritual inconsistencies?
     I'm not saying accountability shouldn't be considered.  It should.  But can I trust that God is at work - and desires to manifest His glory in the most unlikely (and most undeserving) of people?  After all, I bet there are people who know me well enough they could point out my spiritual inconsistencies...and I'm trusting Jesus to continue His redemptive work in me.
     This discussion of God's glory and goodness be manifested in the lives of our enemies is so counter to our humanity, because frankly, it is easier (and more comfortable) to believe that God pours His favor based on our merit.  We like it, but it smells of social Darwinism and of the prosperity gospel.  On some level, we remain convinced that evidence of God's blessing is showing how well things go.  (Paradoxically, this isn't so.  Can't tell you how many times a God-thing usually was succeeded by a hellish storm, afterward. Just because things aren't bliss or easy doesn't mean it isn't a God thing.  Another topic for another time, I suppose.)
     God's goodness is showered on the godly and ungodly; on the righteous and the wicked.  Again...this isn't to say we stay silent in the face of unhealthy behaviors and sin.  But in the quiet moments, it is imperative to believe that the grace Jesus afforded for us, God desires for our enemies.
     Speaking of grace and learning to walk away from a works-mindset, I am finding that grace has become MORE REAL when God is challenging me to go deeper with my forgiveness.  It's not just letting go of an expectation of an apology.  It is also wanting God to extend His love, favor and purpose upon those who have hurt me.
     Grace has become self-reflective, because if I want justice to be held over others' heads and even considering God's heart to transform the hearts of enemies, I still need to answer the following question: how much should I be requiring works to be the standard for which God's favor will flow?  For what standard I hold over others, I must hold over myself.  And if I can admit that I need Jesus to work in my life, and trust Him to do that in His timing, then maybe I need to extend the same grace to others, especially those who I so easily can point out their shame.

Gaining a Greater Inheritance: A Case Study of Boaz

"Son of a whore!”   “Hebrew?! Fat chance!  His momma was a foreigner!”     All conjecture, but I do wonder if Boaz's maternal lineage had any impact on his growing up years.  Not that it is stated in Scripture, and frankly, there were steep consequences in the Old Testament law for making curses.  But is it possible that the temptation to tease the son of a former Jerichoite for his “unfortunate” heritage may have come across someone’s mind?  And maybe, it was never a concern.  After all, Boaz’s mother probably was well-known as the woman who hid Israelite spies, and later adopted Elohim as her own God (see Joshua 2:1-24; Matthew 1:5).  Either way, by the time he reached adulthood, Rahab’s son had become a prominent, well-respected and financially successful man in the town of Bethlehem.     His world was probably like any other agriculturalist, and perhaps nothing was too out of the ordinary.  That was - until the arrival of a foreign woman who came across his land, seeking financial provision.  In time, he found out this woman was a widow, and the daughter-in-law of a family member; another widow by the name of Naomi.  This Moabite woman’s name was Ruth.     I always wondered if Boaz’s heritage - more explicitly his mother’s line - may have encouraged the compassion he showed for Ruth: why he jumped quickly to help her as a neighbor; why he didn’t judge her character based on ethnicity, until he saw the character on display; why, even when she asked for the ultimate sacrifice, he was willing if allowed.     Boaz is an Old Testament example of a redeemer.  Typically called in church tradition, a “kinsman redeemer” or the “guarenteer”, because he was willing to provide and cover the debt of his family.  Naomi’s dead husband was a relative, and he could commit to caring for her and her daughter-in-law, as long as it wasn’t another close(r) relative’s responsibility.  And Boaz was eager to do this redeeming.     Nevertheless, the redemption wasn’t without a cost.  A closer relative, who had first dibs on redeeming Naomi and her daughter-in-law, refused the course of action, because it would endanger his own family’s heritage.  “Then Boaz said, ‘On the day you buy the field from the hand of Naomi, you must also buy it from Ruth the Moabitess, the wife of the dead, to perpetuate the name of the dead through his inheritance.’  And the close relative said, ‘I cannot redeem it for myself, lest I ruin my own inheritance.  You redeem my right of redemption for yourself, for I cannot redeem it.’ (Ruth 4:5-6).”  Boaz’ choice in redeeming the widow was that his first son would be credited to her dead husband; not to his own name.  And yet, Boaz willingly chose to redeem her; even had a hint of excitement to do it (see Ruth 3:10-13).     Boaz indeed married Ruth, and soon after, a son named Obed, was born.  Initially, Obed was called the son of Naomi (Ruth 4:17), hinting at the inheritance that should have come through her own son, who died.  And yet, in my studying of Ruth and other places of genealogies, Ruth’s dead husband isn’t the one named as the father of Obed.  Maybe there was an inheritance, but historically, Boaz was given the acknowledgment of being Obed’s father (see Ruth 4:18-22 for an immediate example).  When Matthew was substantiating Jesus’ lineage through the tribe of Judah, he not only hinted at Joseph’s father, as well as being connected with David (king from whom the Messiah would come).  He also mentioned this: “Salmon begot Boaz by Rahab, Boaz begot Obed by Ruth, Obed begot Jesse, and Jesse begot David the king (Matthew 1:5, emphasis added).”  Boaz was willing to bring redemption to someone who did not deserve it, calculated the casualty of the cost; and yet, in redeeming the person, gained an inheritance that extended beyond himself.  A gift of family, through fatherhood.

    “Oh, that poor boy.  Such a sweetheart to care for her, considering how she treated him.”
    “Maybe he’s just being accountable.  Who knows if he got her pregnant before she left to visit her cousin.”
    “Perhaps.  But think of what kind of kid they’ll have?!  No matter how you look at it, it’s a scandal!
    Joseph, in claiming Jesus as his own son, was a scandal indeed.  People don’t just claim kids as their own, if their betrothed cheated on them.  Yet, he did (it helped that an angel revealed that the baby was conceived by the Holy Spirit, and not humanly initiated; see Matthew 1:19-21).  It was actually Joseph adopting Jesus as his own son that connected Jesus to the tribe of Judah (this is why I consider Joseph as an adoptive father, rather than a step-father, to some extent.  Jesus was considered legally as Joseph’s son, carrying his inheritance.  But maybe Joseph is considered a step-father, because Jesus identified His sonship with both Joseph and God the Father…but maybe this is reading the Scripture through Western eyes.) 
    But if anything was a scandal about Jesus, the matter of His birth was the smallest portion of all.  The reality of it all was that there was a God seeking to redeem His whole creation, and He chose to do it Himself.  But, as with Boaz, redemption wasn’t without a casualty on the part of the Redeemer.  There would be pain in carrying the weight of the world’s sin - past, present, and future.  “...And the Lord has laid on Him the iniquity of us all (Isaiah 53:6).”  While on the cross, Jesus cried out to His Heavenly Father, “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me,” echoing the Messianic prophecy in Psalms 22.  And yet…
    Redemption is not redemption if there is not a return. “All the ends of the world shall remember and turn to the Lord, and all the families of the nations shall worship You.  For the kingdom is the Lord’s and He rules over the nations (Psalm 22:27-28).”  And just as with Boaz, the inheritance gained was greater than the momentary cost.  Jesus didn’t just save creation from going to hell.  He made us righteous.  “...Be reconciled to God.  For He made Him who knew no sin to be sin for us, that we might become the righteousness of God in Him (2 Corinthians 5:20b-21).”
    Being cleansed of our sins is a HUGE deal, but what is just as incredible is that God not only made us righteous, but in being righteous, He calls us His own children.  Where back in John 3:16, Jesus was called God’s only begotten Son, by the time Romans was written, Paul points out that the family reunion became a WHOLE LOT BIGGER.  “For as many as are led by the Spirit of God, these are sons of God.  For you did not receive the spirit of bondage again to fear, but you received the Spirit of adoption by whom we cry out, ‘Abba Father.’  The Spirit Himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs- heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ, if indeed we suffer with Him, that we may also be glorified together (Romans 8:14-17, emphasis added).”  A heritage birthed out of fatherhood.
    The topic of redemption is central to the gospel.  It is the hope we stand on.  It is the crux of our faith in God, because in Christianity, we recognize the depravity of our humanity and the need for a Savior to come rescue us.  But this rescue came at an intense cost.  And yet, Jesus saw the brutal treatment He suffered for our sake as a joy, because of what would become a result (see Hebrews 12:2).  We no longer were held in bondage to our sin.  But additionally, the joy I believe Jesus found was that His inheritance was being able to call us His own…family.  As with Boaz, Jesus laid down His reputation, His right to a heritage…and yet, in His redemptive purchase, He gained an inheritance greater than any could imagine or previously thought possible.  Until it was possible. 

Forget the Jewels!

 Disclaimer:
The following discussion
Concerns a theological stake
I do not understand.
Whether, because of 
Absence or miscommunication,
I am only writing
On behalf of the confusion
Wrought by contrasting
True heavenly expectation
Vs.
Church idealism of discipleship.
Please read with caution
And mercy.

God, I plead with my ignorance.
I've heard that my first moments
Before Your throne
Will be ones laying down
A crown, decorated of jewels,
Rewarding my efforts
In being Your witness
In this world.

Is it so?

What people do not know
Since the moment 
I became Yours,
I soon became compelled
To learn theology,
To go somewhere,
Accomplish something
In the name of Jesus.

It was not enough

To just be.
I rather had better
Grow, substantiate
The righteousness I now have,
Follow the calling
Bestowed on my life.
And if I failed,
Then the jewels offered 
Would wither in the fire,
For an opportunity not taken.

Keeper of time:
You know how long
I have busied myself to prove
My worth in pleasing Your heart
In ministry,
In the workplace and world,
In the home.
Have I done well?
For the amount of good done
Fails to satisfy a quota.
I don't know whose.

Frankly, I have so many 
Voices in my head
Directing me what is
Supposed to be
Your will.
But is it?
Legalism breathes in my bones;
Every second of pressure
Externally suggested seeds
An anger that bleeds
Black and blue 
Ink.
Even at my best,

I am not enough.

All I have heard
Is how my effort will result in jewels
Forged in life, sustained eternally,
If only I would take the steps 
To honor Your Name
In everything
I do.

God, 
I feel like I'm being discipled
To insure I have stories
Accounted unto me
Glorifying the One who came to save.
But no matter where I go or do,
It is never enough!
I am still lonely;
And I am forgotten.

Whose glory am I fighting for?
I have been purposed
Toward a goal,
But should I be aiming
To sit at Your throne;
When able, invite others to join?

Is that when a jewel is created?

King of heaven,
I mean no disrespect.
But where in Your words,
Are my works supposed to define
My identity as Your child?
I can preach grace,
But no amount of time or sermons
Have cured this brokenness
Within me:
Wanting to be loved unconditionally;
A sense of belonging without a fight
To sit at the table.

I have forgotten
The impact of faith.
My mind knows what it should
Believe, but my heart fails
To grasp its reality.
For in one breath, I hear,
"Faith is all you need,"
But in the next, "Now,
Do the work God has commanded!"

Hell is not my home.
I know that.
Sin must not remain in my life.
I also know that.
But am I worthy of heaven
If all I brought was my desire
For You to be my King?

I know a crown is to be laid
At Your feet;
A wedding feast is to be prepared.
But will the Lord be offended,
If I only came in my rags?
Because all I have is myself.
Any stitchwork I attempted
Only resulted in bunched threads;
Uneven patterns clashing with color.
Any work I have accomplished,
Any praise gained...I have
"My award."  It is empty.

Nevertheless, if You made
A gown worthy of Your beauty,
I would gladly wear it.
Anything I could present
Will only crumble in ashes.
I know it, already.
But if You are pleased with me
As Your child, enjoy the matter
That I am credited to Your Name,
Then what work
You have done in me
Will forever be displayed.

When Faced with the Failure of Others

    It was the start of Christmas vacation, and what was on my mind?  Sure the expectations of last minute shopping, getting Christmas cards finalized, and getting excited about giving my husband the gifts I had for him.  But there is something about the holidays, that although it can bring much joy, can also usher a wave of remembrance for things lost.  Unfortunately, such was something on my mind.  It is no secret that there is an ongoing forgiveness concern.  However, I realized last weekend that the main problem wasn’t the sins of this particular person who caused my wounds, but rather, feeling like I wasn’t protected from those wounds.  There were only two things I could do: weep and write.

“Questions for My Hero”

I grew up with my hero.
He was the one
I looked up to,
Found my confidence in
And willingness to fight
Obstacles that appear
In life.

But they say,
“Don’t ever meet your heroes.
They will disappoint you.”
For all the good
You have done,
As I grew up,
I became familiar
With your flaws.

Why?
Why, when the enemies came,
You quieted your firm voice
In the name of them
Being family?
Were we not worth defending
From the barrage of hatred
Disguised as discipline?
You were supposed to be
Our protector!

Maybe, they cleverly hid
From your sight.
But maybe,
You remained silently
Resigned, because you actually agreed?
Is this the case?
Whether or not,
When confrontation came
With the truth,
You decided to retreat,
Rather than risk criticisms
Upon your own head.

How?
How shall we proceed?
Do I share with you
My frustrations?
Once, I tried…
But you rather
I just let it go;
Stop being so sensitive.
Just keep the peace.

But what peace can exist
When good men don’t stand
In the face of an onslaught?
Sticks and stones may break bones,
But words do indeed hurt.
Sometimes, they kill.
Will the shame of the past
Condemn you to resolve
Into a perpetual groveling,
Unable to forgive yourself?

What?
What do I wish of you?
Nothing more than speaking up
For those under your care.
Grow a backbone that seems to have been lost
When you quit drinking.
Of course, a strength
Coupled with Jesus’ grace.
But even He knew when
To start cracking whips.

For now,
I know I need to stand.
I need to speak up
When appropriate.
Silence protected you,
But it has been killing my soul.
I know that reconciliation should be
My aim.  However, trust has yet
To be gained.

The pain I carry
Is that you passed down
A shield to this maiden
Before she was old enough
To inherit its responsibility.
And now, that I am of age,
The responsibility is mine,
And yet, I’m either
Too exhausted or too angry
To carry any more.
You were
And are
The head of your house.
What convinced you
That silence was the best
Solution to make peace?

     Here lay the accumulation of tears that I carried for two decades.  Not that I had been wounded, but rather, that the ones who had the power and responsibility to protect me didn’t.  Where was my shield when I needed him?  Where was my hero when my internal self was threatened?
     And yet, in my tears, God still met me.  The day I wrote this poem, the overlay of depressed emotions lingered.  However, as the day drew to a close, I was able to smile again.  The next morning, I read the following verse, and because of the context I was living in, it hit me like a ton of bricks.  “Do not be afraid…I am your shield, your exceedingly great reward (Genesis 15:1b).”  God was, and is, my shield.  He is my protector.  Furthermore, He is a glorious King whose strength is mighty and establishes the world we are in (see Psalm 24:7; 93:1-5). 
     Unfortunately, life is not fair.  Expectations are failed.  Innocence is lost.  Betrayals come because of long-held resentments or birthed out of an ignorance that certain actions or wounds can harm.  Time passes, and with that, the reality that the responsibility that should be one’s, as they mature, becomes unsettling when one realizes they have been carrying that responsibility before they should have.  Nevertheless, what can one person do?
     Well, one can persevere without acknowledgement of the pain.  Sometimes, intentionally, as a means to cope.  Sometimes the pain is externally suffocated.  Anger usually results, and it bleeds in resentment years down the road.  I have found, recently,  that tears can bring healing.  It releases the anger I once hid.  But I am also learning that, although grief is needed for healing, sitting in it for too long is also not wise.  One can become addicted to wishing the past would change before one is whole. Yet, that isn’t realistic.
     God being the shield that I needed hasn’t resulted without its emotional scars.  It hasn’t saved me from pain, like a bodyguard would for a member of royalty.  Rather, His protection is more like that of a king leading a military charge.  His men know He fights for justice and what is right; the plans have been set, but the soldiers follow, prepared for battle, whether due to professional training or because war has been thrust upon them (cue Aragorn’s war speeches from Lord of the Rings). 
     God’s protection is the mature wisdom I should have received when I was younger, but am now taking proactively, because the present time calls for it.  Following my King doesn’t mean my past will be written differently, or that my life will suddenly be fair.  Casualty will come; a cost will be made, but because of the King, I know when I stand in His stead and protection, even where there may be sorrow, I can still find joy.  That is my hope on my forgiveness journey, up to this point.  

The Entschuldigung of a Hypocrite

      I’m sorry for the things I have said to you through the years.  Was trying to be funny, but I can tell how they caused you tears.  I should have been there, encouraging, lifting you up; but I see how my words only stunted your creativity, disregarded your feelings and left you questioning your worth.  I was supposed to be there for you; instead I made you insecure.

    Oh Auntie Dearest,
    I was hoping that as I became older, I would be free from this chain that has haunted my history.  I could’ve sworn I forgave you, but every chance I intend to meet with you; every chance I allow room for you to speak, it smells like toe fungus growing on the surface of your tongue.  It’s almost kind of funny.  For a time, I was even able to see a hint of your beauty, but since we separated again, it’s like you’re back to your old antics.  But maybe they were never old.  Maybe I was the one who changed, and yet, you stayed the same.  Maybe I was optimistic in believing you would listen.  After all, when you apologized for a misunderstanding, I took it as a hint of hope.
    But misunderstanding my position wasn’t my problem.  I could care less if we stood on the same side.  However, when you treated me oppositionally for taking an opposite view - excused your verbal barrage for stating your thoughts, I have to admit…I finally became more realistic.  You don’t care.  You don’t think you have done anything wrong.  Your lack of self-accountability is concerning, especially since you seem so concerned to hold the world accountable for their actions. 
    What did I ever do to you?  How did the world declare war on you?  People say you are a blessing, but why would any need enemies with family such as you?!  You can tell me you love me, but I never really could be sure, unless my actions encouraged your pride in me.  I know I failed your expectations.  Actually, I am at a loss for what you even wanted of me.  A mirror?  A mini-me?  Were you concerned for my soul, or that I looked exactly like you?
    Was it such a curse-able thing to have lived in a mission field not overseas?  Did I truly not stand in my femininity enough unless I wore elongated fabric around my legs or became a professional in the kitchen?  And how often more should I wear a dress - as often as you?! 
    You seek to point out the irreconcilable sins at a moment’s glance, but did you ever take a chance to see if a reflection looked back?  Do you even practice discernment, or just call everything you disagree with demonic?  You speak so much of the freedom found in Jesus, but as I grew in your house, the weight of your laws was overbearing.  Why didn’t you try to teach rather than criticize?  Console rather than make a farce joke?  Empathetically listen rather than force a change that wasn’t yours to make.
    Ironic. 
    I guess you could say I’m doing the same to you. 
    Is it even worth it to continue writing these imaginary conversations, realizing that they will never materialize?  I have tried, but you don’t want to hear it.  My offense…my pain…my hurt, apparently is my fault.  Isn’t that what you implied?  I’m looking to be free, but the only way I can see that happening is if the Jesus in you could actually make an appearance.  At this time, it ain’t happening, and I don’t know if it is ever going to.  Should I still care?  The only reason I do, is because you made me feel like I was never enough.
    There is always something that is below your standard.  I don’t even know how anyone can make you genuinely proud and unconditionally loving toward them.  Ain’t that funny?  Because if someone can make you unconditionally loving, it probably isn’t unconditional love.  I have since become an aunt myself.  My husband’s brother’s daughter.  The same relationship dynamic I have with you.  She doesn’t know Jesus yet, and similar to me as a teen, doesn’t have a good relationship with her mother.  I want her to be saved, but I am waiting for her to invite me in that space.  Until then, I’ll pray.  I want her to know her worth isn’t bound by what she does.  This is the lesson I have learned from the tears I carried from our conversations.  I hoped you could have been like a mother when I was searching and in constant confusion, but more criticism was all that followed.
    Is there a chance that we can restore our relationship?  I, now, carry a child, and with all due respect, I’ll be damned to let my family be abused in the way I had been with you.  Parents silent to your intimidation, others silently supporting your disapproval.  What chance did I have to see myself in the way God does?  As the matriarch of my house, I want Jesus to be glorified, children encouraged in the calling God has for them, more than the personal expectations I could want for them. 
    Because, isn’t that the point?  None of us are good, on our own.  I was never good enough for you.  And I wonder if this extra effort to abide by the law, and make others do the same, is your effort to prove to God that your salvation is viable.  Don’t you see: if our works were enough, Jesus would never have been needed.  But because any righteousness we can muster is as filth, Holiness became sin that we may not only be creation borne of His image, but become children born of His Blood.  Do you remember what Jesus saved you from, or do you work so hard to forget the shame already redeemed? Or maybe you have “always” been good, and believe it is your God-given call to disciple every person who passes your presence.  It sure feels that way.
    The only reason I want you to change is because there are too many others still willing to tolerate your bullshit, in the name of love.  And as long as that continues, I will take it upon myself to protect.  Like I said, I’ll be damned if I let my family be abused.

    I’m sorry that we never spoke up.  This is a burden you shouldn’t have had to bear.  I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you.  I’ll be here, if you want to give a call.  I will listen.  Can’t promise what you say won’t hurt, but I’ll stick around.  I want you happy.  I want all that God has for you.

    She wasn’t perfect, nor will she ever be.  But she’s humble and willing to grow.  She’s the mother I needed and have wanted; and she is my own. 

Consequences When Confrontation Doesn't Work

How does one embrace another when they do not want to change unhealthy behavior?  I was always taught to just “let things go”, that a person acts a certain way, because they are who they are, a representative of the times they grew up in…they just don’t know better.  But in the last year and half, I have not only tried to see the positive points in this person, but when there were harsh things said, I was willing to confront them.  Nevertheless, there was no accountability taken.  Apologies given for misunderstandings, or for sounding frustrated; worse yet; “I’m sorry that you are so easily offended.” 
    I’m sorry. (Pun intended.)  But that is not an apology.  And no accountability for becoming a verbal barrage of rage or unwilling to see someone’s perspective (even if you disagree with it) shows a lack of empathy.  I had hoped it was true.  I hoped this person was just ignorant of their behavior.  I learned to stop holding onto resentment, and I found that it was more loving to tell someone how they hurt me than to keep it to myself.  Because if that person comes to repentance, then it was worth it. 
    Yet, that was not the outcome.  In confronting hurtful words and behavior, I received defensiveness and deflection.  There is a statement of intention to watch what is said, but it is more so to not offend me; I can tell it is not a heart change.  Just a behavior change, and only doing that, because I finally placed the boundary that should have been built so many years ago. 
    I learned to forgive, but even now, there is still disappointment.  What I explained as ignorance has been proven to be arrogance.  The difference between the two is one lacks knowledge and wisdom.  However, the latter refuses the wisdom when it is presented.  It says that it does not want the knowledge, and pridefully states that they already know better. 
    Is it even worth sticking around in a relationship with this person?  What does it mean to embrace someone, even when they show their faults?  Am I just supposed to stomach the comments?  Am I to keep my mouth shut?  That was how it was dealt with for so many years, and the result of that was hatred birthed in my own heart.  I am to the point that something has to be done.  And being that I’m not just my own person; I have my own family to think about, I am becoming increasingly convinced that limited contact may be required to prevent any further harm or verbal abuse from occurring.  To what extent, I don’t know. 
    All I know is, presently, I feel like I’m the only one who is speaking out against this person’s behavior.  Everyone smiles and tries to have a light-hearted comeback, but no hints are really picked up.  Am I being too soft?  Too sensitive?  Should I just “let it go”?  Isn’t that what forgiveness is?  Yet, forgiveness is letting go of an offense, and also saying that person doesn’t owe you anything.  The hardest lesson I’m learning is that this family member doesn’t owe me any apologies.  Maybe I am finally coming to the part of acceptance, but there is still grief, because I hoped so much this person was willing to listen and learn.  

     I was recently reminded of the way Jesus interacted with the rich young ruler.  Jesus confronted this man, shared that he abided by all the laws, but still failed in loving his neighbor.  He challenged him to give up his most prized possession.  Jesus’ response?  No animosity.  He just turned and walked the opposite direction.  There was no further conversation.  There was no more wagering for his heart to change.  Jesus let the man have what he wanted.  And letting him have what he wanted would mean the consequence of being separate from Jesus.
    I have taken the steps I could to bring my offenses with this person.  I went one to one with this person.  Is a mediator needed?  At this point, if my husband hears something, he may pull this person’s husband aside and speak with them.  I see a growing likelihood of publicly throwing shame in this person’s face; wondering if a taste of their own medicine is going to wake them up.  But will the victim/defense (“What did I do?!”) card be played?  Somehow, I think the only way for this person to finally get the hint that they are the root of an inward family hurt is if others start speaking up.
    That’s not happening, and I feel I must be careful to not become the family’s protector.  My cousins are adults; they have their own families.  They must determine what they are willing to tolerate or draw boundaries around.  My family’s security is not my responsibility.  And neither is this other family member’s repentance.  I may have to be more intentionally distant.  I know they would like a closer relationship, but I don’t trust them to be respectful.  I can pray for them.  But like many relationships I have been learning to walk through this year, I am finding prayer is my only resort; and God is the only One who can make the change.  

“The Numb Fool” (inspired by Linkin Park)

I was seeking
For love,
Wanting to be seen
For the gift I am.
But even in your sights,
I still fell
Below
The standards of approval.
Never enough;
Always something to fix.

Always talking about Jesus,
But confused of what I was hearing;
Was it really from Him?

You have become so numb.
I don’t think you care.
All I wanted to be was to be wanted
For me,
But that was never intended,
Unless I became less
Like me,
And more like you.

What will it take for me
To be free of your grasp;
To not care what you think
And even let you have
Your consequence?

You want to call everyone
Different from you
Stupid.
But have you ever thought that
You may not always be right?!

What were you told
When you were a child
That made you judgmental
As an adult?
What insecurities do you hold
But never share,
Because a mirror may be revealed?

You have become so numb.
I fear you don’t care. 
You speak so much
Of the grace of Jesus,
But I fail to see His light.
Sometimes our own goodness
Blinds us
To see our own sin.

You quickly call out fools;
And yes, there is an ignorance
Of the knowledge of God.
But there is a fool borne
Out of arrogance.
And the only fool I know
Of this kind,
Is you.

I used to hate you
For all the ways
You made me feel less than.
I learned to love you
Enough
To confront the hidden toxins
In your speech.
I was hopeful humility would
Have its perfect work.
But inward morality persuades
The offenses are others’ problems.

For that
I will respect you
To let you have your way.
And I will respect me
To not be in the midst of it.
I may have to take my leave;
And maybe in the distance,
You will finally see
The change that must be made
To no longer be numb.