Grooms and Fathers; Trying to "be someone"

Two seemingly unrelated thoughts this morning:

1. Doug wrote on the bathroom mirror this morning lyrics to a Phil Wickham song for me to reflect on: 

When we arrive at eternity’s shore
Where death is just a memory and tears are no more
We’ll enter in as the wedding bells ring 
Your bride will come together and we’ll sing
You’re beautiful, You're beautiful, You're beautiful

First, its an amazing song and a beautiful portrait of Revelation 21 (the new heavens and the new earth), which alone is heart stoppingly beautiful and particularly significant to me. But then it also references the oft used analogy of the church as the bride of Christ. It got me thinking about analogies... God the father, Jesus the groom. Both very male (after all, the bible was written by men, so it makes sense). Both putting a lot of pressure (or perhaps placing a lot of importance) on men to model these things well. If one has never felt the indulgent love of a father, or the doting adoration of their groom it would be very difficult to wrap one's head around those analogies. As parents I think about this a lot. I never want Avery to wonder what it's like to be loved beyond reason or understanding. I want the phrase "rooted in love" to make all the sense in the world to her. I want her to be able to relate well to that analogy. If I get nothing else right as a parent, than to make that child feel well-loved, and to be able to grasp God's love for her - I'll feel like a success. 

2. Still in 1 Corinthians today (1:10-31) and Paul is talking to the factions among the Corinthian people. He talks about how the group of them are hardly the best and brightest. The point he was making was that God uses the weak so that people can see His strength. His was is confounding - turns reason on his side - but He uses the little guy, the underdog to do great things. The bible is littered with stories like this. But this morning it occurred to me that I've spent the better part of my life trying to be anything, but. After leaving military world where everyone had roughly the same stuff and lived as one little community - and entering into the civilian world (which is pretty much the opposite of that), I always felt a little... lesser. My family didn't have much money. The kids around me had nicer, newer, better. Their families took nice vacations. They didn't wonder how they were going to pay for college. Their cars didn't look like they'd been salvaged from the junk yard, and there was never a crisis where their parents weren't sure how they were going to pay the mortgage. I realize that those things didn't reflect on me personally, but they certainly made me feel a little like an outsider - even when I was on the inside. And so I spent a lot of life trying to compensate for that. Prove that I could be just as good. Have things are just as nice. Have a nice wedding. Get a good job. A nice car. A good life. It's not all about the stuff - though there's definitely an element of that. It had more to do with feeling second rate - and wanting to prove that I wasn't. I could have a good husband, a beautiful child, a good life. And it drove me to work really hard and be reasonably successful. 

But looking now I don't think there's anyone who would call me the underdog. I got an invitation to my 10 year high school reunion last week. And as much as I swore I'd never want to go, I saw that one girl in particular who terrorized me through middle and high school was on the organizing committee and it made me want to go. Not even to talk to her. It made me want her to know that my life had turned out well - maybe even better than hers. Maybe the "better than hers" was the part I wanted her to know (bear in mind I haven't thought about this person in the better part of the last decade, but as soon as I saw her name this sinister thing in my nature reared its ugly head). I was talking to my mom and she pointed out that I likely have been more successful than anyone in my graduating class. That doesn't necessarily mean that I make the most money (I'm sure I don't), but that I have the best job. Most of the women in my honors classes gave up their careers to have kids and here I have both. Working at an amazing advertising agency. There's a certain glamour that for a moment felt like it vindicated me. I am worth something! Look! You were wrong when you said I was worthless! 

Then I read Corinthians and Paul talking about how Jesus wasn't interested in using the cool kids, the successful, the rich, the beautiful people for whom everything came easy. Yet I've worked so hard to be one of those people (or have aspired to be at least). What are the implications of that life long pursuit for my faith?  

Sunday reflections

We had our huddle yesterday - Doug, Jess and me. The purpose of the group is accountability and to be fair I hadn't followed through with 100% of what I'd committed to do last week. I said I'd start reading through epistles during my quiet time and I stuck with my old pattern instead (findingrhythms.com). I said I'd write down a kairos moment everyday - and while I thought about it everyday, I only actually recorded them twice during the week. Of course I had my reasons - adjusting back to work, traveling for the first time since having the baby, general inertia. But regardless of the reasons I didn't follow through 100% and Doug was firm in pointing that out. "Why didn't you follow through? Would you use the word laziness?" 

It stung.

I understand that the point is accountability. And that in an accountability groups it's critical to follow up with people on whether or not they followed through. But at the same time I struggle with such feelings of discouragement in my spiritual life. Often feeling like I'm not living up to who or what I should be or do. So Doug's comments, while fair, were hurtful.

A new day.

Sunday morning and Doug brought me the bible he bought me for just this task (a copy of The Message). He had marked 1st Corinthians, so all I had to do was open it and read... talk about eliminating all excuses!

The description in the introduction talks about how the people of Corinth had a reputation for being unruly and generally rowdy people. When they were under the watchful eye and stringent care of a pastor (Paul) they had cleaned up their ways. But once he left and they didn't have someone to hold their hand they had started to fall apart. This letter was Paul's response to people who had really dropped the proverbial spiritual ball. I'm sure he was frustrated with them (as Doug was with me yesterday) that they'd been given a simple task and hadn't followed through.

***sigh***

This is the description of Paul's response: "Paul's first letter to the Corinthians is a classic of pastoral response: affectionate, firm, clear and unswerving in the conviction that God among them... continued to be the central issue of their lives , regardless of how big a mess they'd made of things. Paul doesn't disown them... doesn't throw them out because of their bad behavior... doesn't go into a tirade because of their irresponsible ways. He takes it all more or less in stride, but also takes them by the hand and goes over all the old ground again..."

Then in the first chapter, sure enough he reminds them of the great things Jesus has done in their lives thus far. He doesn't dwell in the mistake, but points to their progress. And he ends verse 9 by saying, "God, who go you started in this spiritual adventure... will never give up on you. Never forget that."

It was helpful because I'm often tempted to give up on myself when I've failed yet again, and it's reassuring to hear that God is more dedicated to my progress than I am. Just a quick thought for the morning. 

I'm trying to alter my morning rhythm/time to connect with, listen to and invite God to share the day with me. My new goal is to spend 20 minutes or so each morning by myself (i.e. sans baby). I'll open with listening to Your Love is Strong (see previous post about Jon Foreman's beautiful retelling of The Lord's Prayer). Then I'm going to read from the epistles (clearly I'm in 1 Corinthians right now). Then I'm going to try to write a little every single day (something I've never been able to accomplish before). So my prayer for today is God's strength to do this again tomorrow.  

  

kairos moments - Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday

Okay, Jessica Tingen and I are going to be leading a women's huddle (discipleship group) starting later this summer. In preparation of that beginning we meet with Doug every Thursday night and he leads us through a series of conversations/lessons designed to help us better hear/respond to God's voice in our lives. We call these moments of clarity kairos moments. And this week he asked us to write one down every day. I did that on Friday and have been making mental notes of them throughout the weekend. But today I'm going to jot them down on my blog before they slip out of my left ear (along with the location of my keys and my husband's date of birth:-). 

Saturday: Saturday was a day of rest. A real one. As part of my weekly rhythm of rest Doug watches Avery for two hours on Saturday for me to go to the pool and hang out. This time Jessica Tingen came with me. We read books (I'm reading Absolute Truths by Susan Howatch, which is amazing so far). Then we had lunch and just enjoyed the sunshine. It was such a beautiful day and the breeze softly billowed through the area, occasionally breaking the heat. Later we brought Avery and set her in the shade (she's too little to be in the hot sun) and the three of us just hung out. Days like that feel like such a gift. I found myself grateful for everything - for Jess, for the food, for Avery, for Doug taking her for me to get time by myself, for the beauty of the day, the feeling of the sun, the relaxation finding its way through my body. Nothing profound. Just a little joy on a Saturday afternoon.

Sunday: Sunday we had the pleasure of worshiping with some friends new to the eikon community - Brian and Jennifer Williams. Brian is a super talented art director I work with. He's smart, articulate and incredibly thoughtful. His wife Jennifer is pregnant with their first child, a little girl. (yay!!!) We had dinner with them about a month ago and they visited eikon before Memorial Day. They returned last Sunday night and we invited them to dinner with us, Jake and Kristin Seward after. For me, it was an opportunity to share with them what is one of the greatest blessings in our lives - community. We have these amazing friends who are always there - supportive, encouraging, challenging (in a wonderful way). We take it for granted on occasion and can sometimes forget that it's not something everyone has. Upon meeting Brian and Jennifer for the second time, some of the people in our small group offered to help them move later this month. They seemed surprised that we'd all take a Saturday to help move boxes and get them settled. And I was reminded that not everyone knows that kind of loving community. Later that night the six of us had dinner and they really seemed to hit it off with Jake and Kristin. This is utterly unsurprising, because the Sewards are amazing. It sounds cheesy, but I felt like I was sharing a gift by introducing them to people I love so much. It was like they were this well kept amazing secret and we got to share them with another couple who will now get the rewards of the rich friendship we so often enjoy. I was on the other end of the table tending to Avery and as much as selfishly I wanted to be in the middle of the conversation, I was really grateful that they were finding things in common and sparking what I hope will be a new friendship. I had this moment where I thought, "this is what it's all about. We are the body of Christ, living in the resurrected kingdom. And it feels SO GOOD to share that with others." I don't know what will come of those relationships, but it felt like this beautiful glimpse of the future.

Monday: Monday around 5:30 I was driving home to relieve Doug from Avery so he could have some time to prep for his men's huddle (and get dinner with him before the guys came over). While I was driving home I was talking to Doug on the phone and I heard Avery screaming. I asked him what was wrong and he said she was just freaking out and that he was going to put her in her crib. I know that he's perfectly capable of taking care of her. But I also knew that I could comfort her. And the anguish in her little scream broke my heart. He had to get off the phone to put her down and I just hit the gas (not in a dangerous way:-). All I could think was, "I have to get home to my baby." All I wanted was to comfort her. Hold her. Reassure her that everything would be okay. It made me think about Jesus saying that God is close to those who are heartbroken, weak and weary. If I had such a strong compulsion to rush to the side of my little girl at the sound of one of her cries I have to imagine God feels the same way. I can see how He would be closest to us in those moments when we cry out. I would have done anything to get to her when she needed me. Anything. So great is my love for her. I still struggle... really struggle to understand God's love for me - but I definitely think he lends my perspective by allowing such a great capacity for love of our own children. 

Tuesday: I have an intern reporting to me this summer. She's a second year graduate student at the VCU Brand Center - and unlike the uber young "cool chasers" out to change culture through exclusive brands and millennial focused projects (i.e. her 23 year old peers) - she's a few years older than me, married to her high school sweetheart with a four year old son. She's also very smart and very impressive given the fact that she competed with her entire class for one of two spots at Martin this summer. I'm lucky to have her on my team. Meeting with her over coffee this morning to brief her on the brand, consumer, etc. - I had so much fun and was just reflecting on the fact that I really love teaching/coaching people. The thing I love most about managing my team is not just imparting knowledge, but creating opportunities for them to learn, grow and shine. I like working for them. Championing them. I really want to pour myself into her this summer and help her along her way. I think discipleship is a lot like that. Only I have confidence in my professional life that I am worth imitating. In my spiritual life I'm far less sure.