Debate of Grace's Extent

  We are saved by grace through Jesus Christ.  Every Christian knows this, but ironically, the more one studies the Bible more, theology becomes grittier and more complex.  One such question is the extent of grace.  Is someone “once saved, always saved” or is it possible to lose one’s salvation?  Of the two churches I grew up in, I have been surrounded by both perspectives.  In writing this blog, I must disclaim that I am no theologian, aside from the fact that I daily read my Word.  I am not basing my conclusions on any commentaries.  I write this blog to propose the question, suggest inquiries, studying Scriptures and have my own conclusion.  A bit of a spoiler: I still haven’t taken a firm stance on either side.     The questions came as I realized that I was going through ministry in the motions, but not carrying the heart.  I began to not only question the sincerity of my position in church, but also my salvation status.  Was I just another person who is involved in church activities, but when I get before the Throne, God will have to tell me He never knew me.  I couldn’t even be convinced of the motives of my heart!  Furthermore, I have had Christian friends who once swore allegiance to Jesus, but either their lives have walked away from Christianity or they have completely denounced their faith (of the past).      So, are they still saved?  Were they saved at all?  How long does it take to actually lose salvation, if that is possible?  On what basis does our experience of Christ transform into salvation of the soul?  Can someone who lives a completely sinful lifestyle die and will be welcomed into the Kingdom, because they prayed “the sinner’s prayer”?     All of a sudden, salvation isn’t so simple.  It’s not the question of gaining salvation that throws the curve ball.  It’s the matter of keeping it.  And, in my humanity, I am terrified that I cannot keep my own salvation.  I talked a little with my aunt and uncle, separately.  Ironically, they sit on opposite sides of the spectrum.  Actually, my uncle says one can lose their salvation, but concerning a grandson making bad decisions he states that God would have him die before losing his salvation (so, my question then is - do you ACTUALLY believe one can lose their salvation?  If God is sovereign to have someone die on their last day of faith, wouldn’t that be for everyone?  Or is my uncle trying to be optimistic about family??  Side thoughts).  My aunt believes no one who is saved can lose it.  Even if they fall into a homosexuality, they would still be saved.  “One cannot be unborn,” she stated.      Amazingly, while all these questions were running in my head, Scriptures started popping up in my devotions concerning this very topic.  I itemized them here into the following: “Once Saved Always Saved”, “Can Lose It”, and “Discrepancy”.  The discrepancy is key, as - honestly, I wonder if it’s how it’s read lends to which side we stand on. (All Scriptures quoted in the AMP translation.)

Once Saved Always Saved	“Able to Lose Salvation”	Discrepancy
“ For the gifts and the calling of God is irrevocable [for He does not withdraw what He has given, nor does He change His mind about those to whom He gives His grace or to whom He sends His call.” - Romans 11:29 “Because of the truth which lives in our hearts and will be with us forever.” - 2 John v. 2 “He who overcomes [the world through believing that Jesus is the Son of God] will accordingly be dressed in white clothing; and I will never blot out his name from the Book of Life, and I will confess and openly acknowledge His name before My Father and before His angels [saying that He is one of Mine].” - Revelation 3:5	“Not everyone who says to Me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only he who does the will of My Father who is in heaven.  Many will say to Me on that day [when I judge them], ‘Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in Your name, and driven out demons in Your name, and done many miracles in Your name’ And I will declare to them publicly, ‘I never knew you; depart from me [you are banished from My presence], you who act wickedly [regarding My commandments].”             -Matthew 7:21-23 “Now the pratices of the sinful nature are clearly evident: they are sexual immorality, impurity, sensuality (total irresponsibility, lack of self-control), idolatry, sorcery, hositility, strife, jealously, fits of anger, disputes, dissensions, factions [that promote heresies], envy, drunkenness, riotous behavior, and other things like these.  I warn you beforehand, just as I did previously, that those who practice such things will not inherit the kingdom of God.”             -Galatians 5:19-21	“But the one who endures and bears up [under suffering] to the end will be saved.”               -Matthew 24:13 “You will be hated by everyone because of [your association with] My name, but the one who [patiently perseveres empowered by the Holy Spirit and] endures to the end, he will be saved.”             -Mark 13:13 “Let no one in any way deceive or entrap you, for that day will not come unless the apostasy comes first [that is, the great rebellion, the abandonment of the faith by professed Christians]...”           -2 Thessalonians 2:3 “Watch yourselves, so that you do not lose what we have accomplished together, but that you may receive a full and perfect reward [when He grants full rewards to faithful believers].  Anyone who runs on ahead and does not remain in the doctrine of Christ [that is, one who is not content with what He taught], does not have God; but the one who continues to remain in the teaching [of Christ does have God], he has both the Father and the Son.” - 2 John v. 8-9

     My mind can start swirling...FAST!  Are there times when I was just acting as a Christian, but really wasn’t?  If I’m a Christian, does that mean I am unable to fall into sin and still stay saved?  And yet, Paul admitted that he had sinned post-Jesus, but of course, he died in redemption (see Romans 7: 14-25).  So, where does salvation stand?  To what length is the question.  I still lean toward the possibility of losing salvation.
    The premise I do so, is because I have witnessed in my life Christians who have decided to walk away from Jesus.  However, my stance on their present saved status has changed.  Maybe they haven’t lost their salvation, but they are walking away from it.  The longer they do, the easier it is for their heart to be hardened.  I don’t believe that God revokes His gifts, but we can leave it.  But God is long-suffering and doesn’t let us off that fast.  After all, God doesn’t want any to perish (see 2 Peter 3:9).  It takes a  LONG time of chasing, and a LONG time of refusal before our hearts can be hardened to the Holy Spirit.
    There are two absolutions I came up with.  First, I can’t lose my salvation as soon as I thought before.  Secondly, it is not my job to keep everyone’s count where their salvation is.  My job is to pray that a person who is not walking with Christ would do so, and soon.  Nevertheless, I don’t believe that is the end of the conversation.  So much of this talk of salvation’s extent still leaves much out of the discussion.  Frankly, it loses sight of the purpose of  salvation, and the key to one’s salvation.
      We receive salvation, because of repentance.  The word repentance literally means “to turn around”.  It describes the process by which we turn to Jesus.  He already did the work (let THAT sink in).  We just have to turn to Him.  We are still human and are prone to temptations and sin.  Having the Holy Spirit does not make us immune to falling.  However, what keeps our hearts from hardening is the act of repentance.  And as many times it requires to repent, God is willing to forgive, because we have an Advocate (see 1 John 1:9). 
    Furthermore, the premise of “how far can I go” misses the point of redemption.  Sin is not about breaking the rules.  It is about becoming disconnected from God.  We needed salvation - not because we got caught doing bad things, but because in our sin, we broke our relationship with a holy God.  It is not God’s heart for man to be “merely saved”.  It is His heart for us to know Him profoundly!  We are asking the wrong question.  Truly, if the goal is to know God, would we wonder how far I can go before He no longer would take us back?  Or if we understood that His heart was for reconciliation, then we would understand that He will do WHATEVER IT TAKES - even forgiving smacks to the face and accusations to bring us to Him.  

     Perhaps, we should stop asking “how much sin can I do before I’m no longer forgiven?”  Honestly, that shows me the person probably is not saved or doesn’t understand salvation.  It isn’t about not getting burned when we die.  Salvation is about making God Lord of our lives (see Romans 10:10).  The Bible doesn’t mention a special prayer to get saved; it discusses the status of a heart.  Do we really want Jesus in our lives?  I feel a burden that in this American society, we have been led to believe a simple prayer but no mind to the God it addresses is enough to be saved.  But, salvation is about reconnection with our Creator and the One who wants to adopt us.  If we saw His heart for us, would we worry about the extent of His grace, or would we become more concerned about how we can be more connected? 

Daddy, Where Are You?

 Dear Daddy,

    Growing up, I never thought I had a problem with you.  You were around and I was the reason for your smile.  But as I have grown into a woman, I have looked back on my life and seen an inconsistency.  I have been insecure.  I was unsure.  I shared thoughts in my mind and it was too much.  I have seen brothers make mistakes and lose their favor; could I be in the same boat?  If not, why not?  Though you were around, growing up, I still felt alone.  And I felt like I had to carry the worries of this world on my shoulders.  Where were you?
    I know that you met Jesus later in life.  I know a shift in your marriage and parenting came.  But as I matured, I was the one who pursued Christ more than you.  I went into my Word, and asked for accountability.  I wanted to go deeper, but you stayed in the shallow end.  You were proud of me in every area of my life.  Present for the milestones in life.  Like two peas in a pod, we were.  But when God was brought up, you were found amiss.  Confused.  When dysfunction entered the home, I found myself holding the reins.  Instead of me finding shelter in your wisdom, you would ask me what was to be done.  Emotionally present, but spiritually absent. I was not meant to carry the household.  Nevertheless, I found that I have taught myself to never be in want.  Although, I admit I am in need. 
    As the years progressed, you grew in your faith.  You are one to speak of Jesus often.  I can tell you are near to Him and His heart.  But you are hidden in the back room.  Fully aware of the world’s plights, but are you ignorant of what goes on your home?  Your tears cry for the destruction of the earth, but what is its worth when you are absent from the hearts of your children?  Are you - and forgive me if I pre-judge, more concerned with ministry that you fail to realize that your family is priority?  Now you are spiritually present, but emotionally and physically absent.  As you are silent, I step up and help the mother rear her children.  The children whom you are accountable for. 
    I always wondered why I found security in being alone.  Simultaneously, fretting all the while that I was disconnected.  But I have learned that I must care for my own soul.  Mothers taught me rejection; but fathers taught me abandonment.  I have to speak, because the fathers fail to step up.  I cannot admit need, because I have households that I must care for.  I know I want to be loved by a man, as I should be, but how can I if I don’t ever trust him.  More importantly, I know I have come to believe that God may love me, but He “must” be distant.  I have to beg for your presence, but I’m hesitant to interrupt the importance of the screens placed before your eyes. 
    I need you near.  I need you to carry.  I need you to be present in all respects.  So, will you come?

Mommy, Will You Let Me In?

     Dear Mommy,

    I know there was a time I was considered the apple of your eye.  But 20 years of words have perpetuated this hurt that seems to bleed from the ground.  I know I have forgiven you.  I know that you may carry wounds from others.  I know I am learning to take God’s words as gospel more than any other.  However, the reality is for every disagreement, critique, or abrupt comment, it only forms a dagger into the scars that were supposed to be healed by now. 
    There is a wall between us.  Whether it is formed, because of fear, or because there is an affront, the situation differs in motive. But how do I lean in when I believe that my worth to you is for what I can do?  Is my future blessed only for what I can accomplish according to the will you have for my life?  Am I enough as I am?  Why do I feel like I have to beg to be your delight?  And only find favor when I have shared a helping hand?
    Would you love me even then?  Even when I make a mistake?  Even when I disagree?  Even when I choose a different calling than so many of my family?  Will you want my presence for more than sitting on the couch made for comfort?  A comfort that may bring solace to the mind, but fails to bring true peace.
    I wanted you to be in my life.  I wanted to know that I am worth something...but I want to be worth more than just something.  I wish I was loved...unconditionally.  But will you love me beyond my accomplishments, and in the midst of my failings? Why when I linger you are content with my silence, but if I am gone, then I am missed?  Mommy, will you let me in?  What is my worth?

How to Love the Black Sheep

     

 I have a cousin who has screwed-up big time, according to his relationships with our family members.  Making choices that are not wise, nor healthy, as well as detrimental, the closeness he once had no longer exists.  At least, for the moment.  I mention that, because as much as my cousin is running away from God and all that He may have for him, we pray that he will return.  But that return may be hard.  To say he screwed-up is only slightly an understatement.      I have since learned to tread lightly and make a point to not get into detailed conversations with my uncle on the subject of my cousin.  Frankly, my uncle (my cousin’s grandfather) has admitted that there is a wall.  “But the doorknob is on his side.” My uncle implores that he loves his grandson, but that he is a disappointment.  The wall can only be taken down by my cousin, and to set anything up, my cousin needs to set up the details.  My cousin is no longer welcome at the house, and no longer can ask for monetary support.  I know that my uncle loves the Lord, but the tone for which is used hinted at a sense of unforgiveness.  Was I just assuming?  Or was there a reason for such an extreme case of excommunication?     The worst that my cousin ever did to me was not talking with me for four years.  Actually, it was a miracle that I got to see him in August of this year, because I don’t think he would have contacted me, otherwise.  However, his offenses toward other family members are more substantial.  He has stolen.  Lied.  Been verbally abusive.  Not just with my aunt and uncle, but also with my cousin’s mother and sister, as well.  There is much strain.  And though sometimes I have questions (or news), I wonder if I should say anything at all.  I risk bringing anger forth.      My uncle last month noticed how uncomfortable I was about how he talked about my cousin.  (After all, he called him “a disappointment”.  A noun.  There’s the danger of an identity.  He refuses to welcome my cousin or shake his hand at church.)  In response, my uncle stated, “Shouldn’t I protect my family?  I hope when you are married, that your husband does the same thing for you.”     I was at a standstill.  I know that there must be boundaries when it comes to people with unhealthy behaviors.  However, to what extent do our boundaries just become armor for our unforgiveness?  In my own journey toward forgiveness, I found that distance was a huge indicator of unforgiveness.  And yet, I was not hurt by my cousin as my uncle had been.  But I couldn’t understand the hint of hostility (??) that I seemed to rise when my cousin came into the conversation.     Immediately, I was reminded of 1 Corinthians 5.  After talking with a mama from church for counsel, I studied the chapter.  Paul found himself needing to address the Corinthian church in the context of people in the church who habitually sinned.  Key verses that stood out to me were 1 Corinthians 5:5-7,11.  The text is as follows:

 

“You are to hand over this man to Satan for the destruction of his body, so that his spirit may be saved in the day of the Lord Jesus.  Your boasting [over the supposed spirituality of your church] is not good [indeed, it is vulgar and inappropriate].  Do you not know that [just] a little leaven ferments the whole batch [of dough, just as sin corrupts a person or an entire church]?  Clean out the whole leaven so that you may be a new batch, just as you are, still unleavened.  For Christ our Passover Lamb has been sacrificed...But actually, I have written to you not to associate with any so-called [Christian] brother if he is sexually immoral or greedy, or is an idolator [devoted to anything that takes the place of God], or is a reviler [who insults or slanders or otherwise verbally abuses others], or is a drunkard or a swindler - you must not so much as eat with another person (AMP translation).”

     According to this reference, my cousin is guilty of them all.  He has slept around, gotten drunk, swindled, verbally abusive, and therefore, also an idolator.  Much of the confusion that surrounds him is that back in high school, he had an “experience” of meeting Jesus.  He prayed the prayer; got saved, baptized.  He went to YWAM.  So, at what point did he turn from God?  (Or the thought that runs in my head - was he ever a son of God to begin with?)  Furthermore, being a grace-filled Body of Christ, aren’t we supposed to show compassion to my cousin - that in the efforts of showing goodness, my cousin would come to repentance?
    Nevertheless, through my study and communication with God, some things came to light.  My cousin has interacted with family members as an addict, not as himself.  Because of the abuse he has committed, they no longer can trust that my cousin is only the family member.  He has to prove himself trustworthy before being asked back into a place of hospitality.  My confliction of emotion is apparent that I have never been personally hurt by my cousin.  The hurt that my uncle feels is real, but I don’t share it, because I don’t share the experience. 
    The form of excommunication seems foreign to me, although it is a New Testament concept (there were forms of it in the Old Testament, as well).  Frankly, it is because I have never seen anyone do it, nor a church.  Most of the time, if someone is convicted of their sin, but becomes offensive, they do not have to wait to be kicked out.  They leave on their own.  However, there may be times when someone is boasting of their life and yet will need conviction.  I think this occurs on levels.  First, someone has their sin addressed.  Secondly, they may be removed from their position of leadership.  If there are areas of further injury or negative impact can be incurred, then removal of the person altogether may be required.
      While questioning the validity of excommunication...or rather, it was understanding excommunication in the context of my cousin, I tried to figure out where I should find myself in this.  Additionally, I found myself judging some of the members of my family who were doing the excommunicating.  If you had held boundaries and not given monetary support or a bed to someone whom you know is an addict, you wouldn’t have been burned.  And if you weren’t burned, you could love [my cousin] from a distance, and not be hurt.  I love my cousin very much.  We grew up together, but anyone who is related to an addict knows how dangerous it is to rescue them when they like the hell they are in.  I am not angry.  I’m not bitter.  For the betterment of the person, I will let Satan have at them so that they may repent sooner. 
    But that isn’t what some of my family members did.  They poured out assistance.  They opened their homes.  Gave cash.  Maybe it’s because they didn’t realize that my cousin is an addict. Or maybe they hoped their kindness would inspire my cousin to change. That is possible - and that is what was the key to helping me to stop judging.  (Moreover, judging doesn’t change the past and it certainly doesn’t bring a solution for which my cousin can truly benefit.)  I can make appropriate boundaries, because I see plainly the state of my cousin.  This may be another attribute to the different perspective and approach to my cousin.
      Where does this leave me?  How shall I love this black sheep cousin of mine?  First - realize that he needs Jesus more than anything.  I cannot be his savior.  Secondly, I do not need to have protective walls, as I have not had boundaries pushed.  It is okay for me to be more open but going into point three - I need to be fully aware of the situation and have boundaries.  For me, that means no bed and no cash for him.  Fourthly, be open with my cousin.  Just because he’s not in a good place doesn’t mean I have to hide my faith from him.  Fifth, pray for everyone in this family situation.  We all have a heart for my cousin to return.  We’re all trying to figure out how to do it best.
    Love is compassionate, but sometimes the most compassionate thing to do is to let someone feel the deepest depravity of their sin, so that they will no longer want it.  My grandfather’s generation called it “tough love”.  It is not heartless.  The sight is for long-term thriving rather than short-term pleasure.  I pray that my cousin may come to the Lord and change his life, sooner than later.

Lean In(to the Pain)

      Forgiveness is easy to preach.  It’s harder to live.  And when distance has amazingly protected the areas of the heart that were wounded years ago, one may question the need to get close to the flames that scorched.  So has been the case of my healing in this season.  God told me I was supposed to be in a season of rest and healing.  In my obedience, I moved back to my hometown, and for the first couple months, it was going well.  Spending time in God’s Word and studying what it meant to be a child of God was exactly what I needed.  But my aunt and uncle went to South Africa for a short-term mission trip, and since that moment, I have found that the form of rest is taking a different shape.     I never wanted to go back to Missoula, in the first place.  I settled in my heart that a season of rest was needed, but I begged God to allow me to move to another Rez.  Send me overseas.  Anywhere but Missoula.  And if I had to move to Missoula, I knew that the only place I could afford living was with my aunt and uncle.  This doesn’t sound so bad until one realizes that some of my childhood (and even adulthood) wounds came from them.  Leaning into the pain takes a whole new meaning.      As I mentioned before, things were going well the first couple of months.  I found that my aunt and I were talking in ways I could never talk with my mother.  I realized that our personalities are similar, and we try to be upfront about what we think.  It’s a positive attribute, but sometimes we can be a bit too bold.  Things were going good.     Nevertheless, when God has been pouring into you, it should never come as a surprise that things will happen to stir the water.  Call it an attack of the enemy or God purifying things - either way, sometimes the ugly comes to the surface when God’s been at work.  It started with the week of crazy - something intense occurred in my family and I had to make a decision that could mean life or death.  But I feared judgment from my aunt concerning how I addressed the circumstance.  Then came Halloween.  As I have gotten older, the comments from my aunt have generally ceased.  Except for one area.  My native people.  And on Halloween, she made another joke that was rooted in racism.     I found myself at a complexity.  On a spiritual plane, I knew that I could learn from my aunt, however, on a personal level, I experienced degradation.  What was this hypocrisy that I encountered?  How could a godly woman who stands firm on the Bible hurt me so much?  In processing her wounds (both past and present), I found that I had a soul tie.  Not all soul ties are romantic.  However, if one is guarded concerning how a person reacts and finds it extremely difficult to be transparent with them, it is probable there may be a soul tie.       The irony of the Halloween statement is that in response to her “joke”, I had an open reaction.  I turned around and whispered - but, apparently not so quietly, the essence of her joke.  I looked back, and she looked shocked.  She hasn’t told me, but something in me says she heard me.  This was the first time I actually addressed any of her wounds, directly.  Most of the time, I either became quiet or made a joke about it, myself.  But not this time.  I openly stated that her “joke” was not appropriate (“That’s not racist,” sarcastically).  But the fear came in immediately.  I thought I should prepare for a defense.  I wasn’t at all apologetic, as it was something that I believe needed to be addressed.  Nevertheless, I hesitated inwardly.  I didn’t want to go back to her place.  I thought about the idea of packing out and moving in with my parents.  They don’t have any room, but I could make it work.  I prepared for a detailed speech.     That soul tie was yanking my fear chain.  And at some level, I need to stop being afraid.     This doesn’t mean I don’t care about what people think, at all.  It is important to be humble enough to heed conviction.  But the fear I had was one that made me believe that my worth to my aunt was conditional, based on if I agreed with her 100%.  And obviously, that wasn’t the case.  Nevertheless the soul tie I needed to break with my aunt required forgiveness.  Forgiveness is a good message until an application comes up.  But in this comment, I knew that to break the subtle bitterness that could ensue, I needed to give this free gift.  I needed to completely pardon her.      She didn’t deserve it.  However, maybe she didn’t know that the things she said were inappropriate.  As much as she is a godly woman, maybe she, like myself, has blind spots.  I, too, am a repeat offender to God.  And I wish for forgiveness from Christ.  As Christian-cliché as it is to say, who am I to withhold what has been given me? Forgiveness doesn’t excuse the action.  God walked me through the grieving and the hurt.  “What did the joke communicate?”  Most offenses wouldn’t offend if the words themselves had not communicated something other.  In my case, the words communicated that my aunt didn’t care about me, or the people God put in my life to minister.      I saw areas of comparison and favoritism displayed in a simple sentence.  In a joke...that really wasn’t much of a joke to me.  Yet, holding on to the hurt was holding onto pride.  It was saying I was righteous in holding my grudge.  However, the process of forgiveness, for me, is to see that nobody is perfect, and where harm has been committed, lack of knowledge is prevailing.      So, after I grieved with God and understood why the words hurt so much, I was emotionally settled.  I knew I had forgiveness toward my aunt.  However, did I need to bring this up?  I waited a couple of days, and my aunt never mentioned anything.  I thought that I was good, therefore, I didn’t need to say something.  However, one of my unhealthy codependent habit was to feel the urge to bring up an offense only when I felt the sting.  But once I felt okay, I wouldn’t say anything.  Subsequently, I was set up to be hurt again, because the offender never came to the knowledge that what was done was hurtful.      It was more beneficial to be emotionally at peace and then bring up the concern.  Not to prove a point (as what would be the motive if I was emotionally charged), but to bring reconciliation.  I would bring up the wound in an effort to invite the person to right their wrong, and secondly, to allow for a deeper level of trust to result. It was three days after the offense happened, and I knew that I needed to say something.  The truth is, I wanted to be able to trust my aunt and be able to go to her, but this offense was the wall.  Furthermore, if I was scared of her reaction, then the negative soul tie that formed as a child would persist.     I had a short paragraph prepared.  I told my aunt how I felt, but I only got a couple sentences in.  There was nothing mentioned to make her feel like an idiot, though I informed her of the danger of her words and what they communicated.  She said that she wouldn’t make those comments again.  I told her I forgave her and loved her.  Nothing else was spoken.  And that night, we watched Big Bang Theory, as was our nightly tradition.      The soul tie is cracking, if not already completely broken. 

Woman Who Was Born Dead

      They say that once an individual suffers a stroke, it is an emergency.  “A typical patient loses 1.9 million neurons per minute after a stroke occurs.” (Stroke. 2006 Jan;37(1):263-6. doi: 10.1161/01.STR.0000196957.55928.ab. Epub 2005 Dec 8.)  That is millions.  Per minute.  What is incredible in all of my musings and writings concerning living with a disability, it has for the most part been in the context of how God hasn’t healed me, and moreover, the frustration with failed expectations.  However, when I took a trauma-informed class for my SPED endorsement, I realized that God was at work more than I first knew. I’ve always had a chip on my shoulder, living with a disability.  I never wanted to be short-changed concerning what I was capable of, so I pushed myself.  I pushed myself beyond expectation.  I pushed myself beyond my boundaries.  If there was a physical challenge, I stepped up.  If someone told me they thought I couldn’t do something, I made a point to prove them wrong.  Even if I failed, I had much rather show that I wasn’t one meant to stay on the bench.      Truth is...despite all my “exploits”, I still couldn’t shake off the anxiety that I was still the “handicapped” one of the group.  It would rise and fall with every challenge that revealed itself wanting of both sides of my body.  I played softball, and though I knew my team didn’t doubt how well of a player I could be, I wondered if the other teams would feel sorry for me.  When I dared to swim across open water independently, I worried my family (or at least, the adults.  I was seen as really cool by the kids).  I always wanted to summit mountains, but waited until I was 31 years old, because I was afraid that if I found a mountain too hard, then I would burden friends in assisting me to make the top.  When I lined up for the Spartan Race in 2018, I wondered how many murmurings I would receive for being one not “physically apt” for such a feat.     Some may comment on the actual physicality of certain things.  Maybe some of it is worth noting.  Nevertheless, the issue wasn’t really whether or not I could do something, but rather my approach to things.  Even in the situations where I was physically apt, I still had a mindset to prove to the individuals in front of me that I wasn’t lacking in my worth.  Living with a disability wasn’t a physical problem as it was an identity crisis.     I refused to join any kind of support that I could use.  I quit physical therapy, because it felt too much like a doctor’s office.  In college, as much as I had empathized with other disabled friends, I never joined their club, because I didn’t want to be one of them.  You know...The ones who are different, and whose worth is somehow diminished, because of what they couldn’t do.  Maybe it was my junior high experience of a PE who made me run when my right hip was extremely hurting.  When I got a doctor’s note saying to not push me, the teacher made me stop running altogether (the goal was to allow me to run until I knew my body couldn’t push any more, not to have me quit physical sports altogether…)  Whatever the reason, I grew up hating myself, and honestly, my body, because of the fear of what I could not do.  And I would be damned if I had to ask for help.     I hid my right arm from pictures.  I never showed my right foot which has a bunion, due to an imbalance in my step.  I hated videos, because I saw my limp gait and my limp fist. Furthermore, I found ways to strengthen my left side in such a way where it didn’t matter if I had my right side or not.  I used my teeth to open things.  Taught myself to type one-handed, as fast as any two-handed individual.  When I worked out, I only strengthened my left side.  Because if I could become the titan that I wanted to believe I was, then I was convinced that no one else could question my worth.     But I was still neurologically dead.  Okay.  Maybe not all of me.  However, I suffered a stroke before I was born (we don’t know when), and didn’t find out until after I was born.  So, we don’t know how long I went without treatment.  How many minutes I went without help.  How many millions of nerves died. Maybe I am slightly exaggerating (I hope not), but understanding how time and stroke work.  The atrophy my body endured was a sign that not everything was alright.  That being said,  I received speech therapy and can walk.  There was some level of rescue in my situation.      Nevertheless, going into my adulthood, I was stuck in my pride and offended, because God had not healed me.  Or so I thought.  By the time I was nearing my 30s, I loved the strength that I was exemplifying muscularly, however, I was greatly cognitive of the fact that the joints and tendons on the left side of my body were being stretched more than what may be healthy.  My left knee could get sore after an intense workout.  All these years of beefing up one side of my body left that one side in danger of being disabled itself, if I didn’t take any care.     The problem wasn’t the physical activities I participated in.  Rather, it was the absence of inviting the other side of my body to participate.  By the time I took my trauma-informed class, there was NO WAY anyone would catch me in a brace to help the weaker parts of me.  But what I read about neurology started my journey to soul healing.  One point nine million nerves die every minute.  The synapses are cut off.  Yet, if the body is treated, and put through therapy, the nerves can - wait for it, this is the actual neurological term - resurrect.     They can resurrect.  Raise from the dead.  What was once gone can come back again, if just given the chance.  And I failed to give my right body the chance to heal...to resurrect, because I let my worth be defined by my ability.  It took some time after taking the class, but slowly, I realized where God’s glory still could be manifested in my situation.     God was not absent in healing me.  The manner for which He chose to heal just wasn’t instant.  In today’s society, we want miracles.  The sign within the moment.  But often, God likes to weave His handwork in the subtleties of life.  He showed me in June of 2020 that I needed to let go of the pride of being strong.  I had to be honest where I was weak, in order for His strength to come through.  All the while I was on a track of disarming my body (pun may be intended) of what strength I needed, but God has challenged me that what strength I need to be equipped for the work that He gives me must include the parts of me that I had previously wanted to stay hidden and forgotten.    

Coming down a mountain I summited this year.
  Note the ankle brace I wore to support my balance.

  I eventually began wearing a hand brace.  I found that my right arm has some strength, but the wrist was weak and needed to be supported in order for my arm to be strengthened as it should.  I also began wearing a brace on my right ankle.  It is amazing what a resurrection can do.  Now, I can hold a bowl with my right hand.  I can open certain bags of chips.  (My fine motor skills are finally coming back!!!!)  I don’t have to resort to using my teeth all the time.  I can carry more on my right arm.  The muscle tone in my right biceps and triceps are growing.  My balance has improved, and the other day, I was even able to stand on my right tippy toes...even if it was just for two seconds.  It is more than zero.      Subsequently, I am learning to strengthen my entire body, and my left side isn’t as worn out as it might have been.  My entire body is being trained to be healthy and carry me through whatever the day may bring.  And yet, I would have missed it, if I remained stubborn that my identity was grounded in my ability.  There are moments I still am guarded (such as if there is mention that people with disabilities should be aborted or left out of activities), but I’m slowly learning to put my stake on what God has told me, rather than what people perceive me, or what I fear they may perceive.  God is active.  He still heals.  And He does it in such a way that will glorify Him most.     A little more than a week ago, I attended an Encounter Weekend.  A woman prayed for my right hand, and said, “Do not look at this as a hindrance.  May [you] not even notice when God heals you.”  I had to laugh to myself.  With all the grave digging that God has been doing in my neurological pathways, it wouldn’t surprise me if how my hand is opened little by little.  That no longer bothers me, though.  Seeing the gradual growth of what my right side is able to do...it’s almost like surprise Christmas gifts.

Whose Kingdom Being Built?

      As a 21 year veteran to the Christian faith, you would think I get this “building God’s kingdom” thing.  And if someone were to ask me if I had it down a few years ago, I would have agreed.  “Yeah, I know what it means to build God’s kingdom.”  But the funny thing about God is that as much as He looks at the efforts of the hands, He weighs the motives of the heart, more so.  So, within the last couple years, I have been forced to look at the mirror of my life and ask the question, “Why do I do what I do?”  Is it really for God?  I would often say so, but the truth of the matter is, there is a very real, selfish, and therefore, sinister reason.  I puff myself up.      I want the accolades.  I want the praise.  I want to know that I am making a positive impact in someone’s life. I want to know that I found worth in someone’s life.  I want to be the hero.      Wait.  But isn’t this supposed to be about Jesus?  Absolutely, yes.  Of course, I want people to be saved from their sins.  Of course, I want them to have a relationship with our Father in heaven.  But I also want it to be known that it was me who led them to Christ.  Sheesh.  The truth oozes with pride.  My very cursed pride (appropriate time for a specific cuss word?).  So, even though it’s by Jesus’ name, it is duly noted that it is my own kingdom that I seek to build.     It is no secret that I have struggled with self-esteem.  I’ve blogged about it before, but seeing it’s long-awaited result can make me sick concerning the reality of what might be.  As long as I have deemed it necessary to rebuttal the verbal or written attacks on my identity, I can only focus on my own worth, rather than on the worth of God.  And because I am guilty of seeking my own glory, I fail to glorify God.      I wonder how often I have shared a testimony, and it overemphasizes what I have done, but, “Oh Jesus stepped in at this one moment, and helped it along…”  Yeah, sure.  Honestly, it is very easy to forget to give any credit to Him at all.  Sheesh.  I’m not as clean as I think I am.  There really isn’t too much to wonder why there was a need for a season of rest.  How am I to share the love of God if all I am concerned about is how people care about me?      I can’t.  Luckily, I’m catching it now.  However, sooner or later, if undeterred, the motives of my heart would muddle the very notion of why ministry is conducted.  I would focus on works, again.  I would have a hopeful heart, at first, but burn out. My unconditional love would reveal itself to be conditional.  Friendships would be dependent, and not mutually caring.  I would get jealous if someone else received affirmation, whereas I hadn’t.  I know that this would happen, because it started happening.      Even before I officially moved into my season of rest, I began recognizing that something was amiss, and perhaps, I needed to step down from ministry.  Whether or not I was going to stay in Browning.  There are wounds in my heart that need to be healed; mindsets that need to be realigned with God’s Word.  There are lies about myself and my life that I have believed.  While buried under a rug, I had been proclaiming truths that I now wonder how deeply (or shallow, as the case may reveal) I honestly trusted and believed.     I am finding that in my wounds, I have sought for a safe place to share my faith.  I’ll be bold in my writings and among my friends, but ask me to talk to someone beyond my immediate circle; ask me to pray for healing; ask me to do something out of the ordinary, because God directed me to - I will refuse.  My boldness has waned.  And it’s because I’ve believed the lies of the enemy.  I have failed to be assured in my mind what my spirit knows to be true.     I have believed that I’m not worth anything.  I have believed that I’m someone’s second choice.  I have believed that God won’t answer prayer in a timely fashion.  I have believed that the results of a supernatural encounter are dependent on my ability and faith, not on the work of the Holy Spirit.  I have believed that I need to prove God real.  I have believed that salvation needs to look appetizing to the senses before Jesus can be shared.     The truth is, while I’m wanting people to accept Jesus, I’m REALLY wanting people to accept me.  Because I have feared my entire life that I wouldn’t be.  That I could be thrown away.  And being thrown away means more to me than if someone fails to have a relationship with Jesus, and subsequently, spends eternity in hell.  Sheesh.  Quite a narcissistic desire.  But it’s my kingdom I’m building.     Unless something changes.  And the truth is - I DO want it to change.  I want to stop worrying about what people think about me.  Furthermore, I want to know how to love God beyond what He can do for me.  The failure to chase after His heart is because there has been a desire in me for others to chase after mine.  I have become convinced of the world’s promises, and found where my convictions have been compromised.      It sucks.  All this time, I thought I was close to my heavenly Father and doing great things for Him, only to find out it wasn’t 100% for His glory.  What.  The.  Heck.  Was I thinking???  Didn’t I see how God wasn’t at the center of it all?  To say that I made some mistakes is an understatement.  There is some regret.      There is a part of me that wants to just jump back in the waters of ministry.  When can I go back to a reservation somewhere, or overseas?  Maybe I should get involved in the youth or children’s ministry here.  Yet, I’m hesitant to do so.  For good reason, too.  I have come to realize that I lost sight of my Father’s heart, and I want to get back.  And I want to go deeper.  I’m sure there is a danger to becoming comfortable spending extensive time with God on an almost daily basis.  But it would be far more dangerous to go back sharing the Word of God without His heart or His kingdom in mind.  As long as I’m afraid of what others think of me, I’ll be too dang focused on me, rather than on Him.  So, it is high time to till the soil, fix the broken things in me...but more importantly, fix my eyes on Jesus, lifting up His kingdom instead of my own.     He is to increase.  I am to decrease.     Let it be so.