When God and sinners reconcile...

Hark the herald angels sing

"Glory to the newborn King!

Peace on earth and mercy mild

God and sinners reconciled"

Joyful, all ye nations rise

Join the triumph of the skies

With the angelic host proclaim:

"Christ is born in Bethlehem"

Hark! The herald angels sing

"Glory to the newborn King!"

This is a song most of us could probably sing or at a minimum hum.  It's a song I have sung literally my entire life and has remained one of my favorite Christmas hymns over the years. We might not know all the verses, but the first verse seems to be a fairly popular one and rightfully so. Every word of it is a beautiful theological truth that preaches a gloriously triumphant message that Christ has come for a reason, with a purpose.  It's something to rejoice in and cling to, but this year something stuck with me in a way it never has before.

God and sinners reconciled

It's a truth I know well.  It's a truth I rely on daily. It's a truth I don't want to escape.

This year the lesson was different.

My dad is the eldest of 3 kids, the responsible one but never the favored one.  My grandad's blessing rested upon my uncle.  My grandmother's blessing rested upon my aunt.  Upon my dad rested criticism, blame, wrath and responsibility.  If anything went wrong, it was ultimately his fault and his job to fix it.  From what I have gathered, my grandmother's Irish temper and fondness for alcohol often created the perfect storm for chaos and dysfunction and my father usually stood directly in the path of her fury.  He took it so no one else had to. My grandad frequently took job assignments which took him elsewhere but used alcohol and passivity to cope when he was there.  It didn't change much as my dad grew into adulthood.  On my parent's wedding day, their car had to be hidden because my grandmother threatened to break out the windows.  She threatened to miss the wedding too but instead just showed up late.  My parents had every reason imaginable to sever their relationship with my grandparents...but they didn't.  Years passed and my brother and I came along.  My grandparents still drank and smoked.  They still criticized my dad, excluded my mom, and fought.  Their favor still rested upon my aunt and uncle. One would assume that my parents would keep us from them...but they didn't.  They protected us but did not isolate us.  We gathered at Christmas and Thanksgiving.  We honored them on Mother's and Father's day.  We celebrated their birthdays.  We invited them to all of our birthdays, events and activities. My parents called frequently to check on them and helped whenever possible.  My mom was always warm and caring.  My dad was always helpful and concerned.  From the way my parents treated them, no one would have ever suspected the deep wounds of these broken relationships.  When I was in high school, my grandmother died and my father rushed to her side and to my grandad's aide. That was many, many years ago.  Since then my grandad has given up smoking and alcohol but something much more miraculous has occurred.  My dad's relationship has been restored with my grandad in a way I never imagined possible and I am closer to him now than I ever was as a child...and all because my parent's chose to continuously extend unmerited grace and mercy to people that wounded them deeply.  They chose to be RECONCILED.

This past Christmas Eve, I sat at a candlelight service next to my parents.  As we sang the hymn above, I looked back for some reason and saw a dear older couple sitting alone on the back row.  The husband was someone I knew well.  He was a constant fixture on church youth mission trips when I was a teenager. My memories of his grace and mercy and humor are still so very fond.  He was a person I respected and admired at a time when I respected and admired so few.  When the service drew to a close, I hurried back to see him.  We quickly reminisced about the good old days on youth mission trips and it was as if neither of us had aged a day.  Then I asked him about his kids and he aged in a moment.  His response broke my very heart as I watched tears well up in his eyes.  "My kids don't have anything to do with me..." Those are words that cut.  How could I possibly respond? I hugged him and said I was sorry and that I would pray for changed hearts. What more could I say?  I am not naive. I don't assume he was the perfect father or that he was faultless in the brokenness of his relationship with his children.  I assume quite the opposite, that he was and is indeed a sinner...just like me...just like you...just like his kids.

As I walked to my car and watched my husband herd our 4 into the car, a thought stuck with me:

If God and sinners can be reconciled, why can't sinners and sinners be reconciled?

And I looked over my shoulder and saw my parents, who BOTH chose reconciliation over anger and hate and bitterness, and I was overwhelmed with one thought:

Reconciliation only occurs when the person in the "right" remembers their own sinfulness and reaches out with unmerited grace and mercy and forgiveness to people that wounded them deeply.

So someone hurt your feelings...BE RECONCILED

So someone was inconsiderate...BE RECONCILED

So someone criticized you...BE RECONCILED

So someone didn't support you...BE RECONCILED

So someone made you feel fat or ugly or unwanted or unintelligent...BE RECONCILED

So someone forgot your or abandoned you...BE RECONCILED

So someone wounded you in ways unimaginable...BE RECONCILED

Whether it happened 15 minutes ago or 15 years ago, the message of the manger, the message proclaimed by the angels, is that reconciliation with God is possible and if reconciliation with God is possible than reconciliation between sinners is certainly possible as well. 

This is a hard message.  This is a painful message.  This is a personal message. 

This is a message that I will have to wrestle with because I have kids who come from hard places.

In the process of becoming not me, I am learning that I must let go of hurt and bitterness and anger and I must choose to be reconciled

...to God

...to sinners

The message of the manger is the message of the cross...BE RECONCILED

the promised change

Last April, I promised that something BIG was on the horizon, something I couldn't wait to share with those I love (and those I don't even know but have chosen to read my words anyways.)  I promised something big and then I went completely silent.

Why?

Because my something BIG,
       the thing I had dreamt of,
       the thing I had envisioned over and over in my head,
       the thing I had been preparing my heart and mind for,
       the very thing I remodeled my house for
       and had seen pictures of and prayed for by name

didn't happen...it didn't come to pass...it wasn't going to be.

The BIG thing that didn't happen was that we were going to welcome 5 (yes 5) kids into our home.  We had seen their pictures, we had said their names outloud, we had prepared their rooms, and we had waited.  For almost 3 months, we waited for their files.  BUT when their files came and we read over them with tears and broken hearts, we knew almost immediately that we would not be a good match for these kids.  Even knowing that didn't make the decision easy.  For days, we agonized over it because we longed for these kids to have a family and we longed to be that family but knew we couldn't.  I cried (which I don't do) almost constantly.  I couldn't sleep.  We had been chosen and had long awaited their arrival, but we were not to be their forever family...and it tore me up.

What if no one else would take them?  What if they would end up being victims once again of a system that couldn't find them a safe forever family? Could we deal with that?  I didn't know.  I did know it happens...all the time.  Thousands of kids "age out" of foster care because they were too old or in too large of a sibling group or too troubled or broken or damaged for someone to take them.  We knew the statistics too well and we knew that saying no to these kids might mean that they would not find a home...but we still had to say no. There was no other choice.

It was almost impossible to say outloud.  I texted or e-mailed most people who knew we were expecting the 5 because I just couldn't verbalize it.  The one person I told face to face was Matthew. 

I remember vividly trying to explain to Matthew that we wouldn't be their family.  He just wanted to know why.  He didn't understand...and how could I explain it to him when I understood why but couldn't embrace all that meant?

He too had prayed for them by name for the last 3 months at every meal and every night before bed.  He too had envisioned them as his brothers and sisters.  I would hear him imaginary playing with them in his room, laughing and giggling and sharing as if they were right there.  And he so longed to be with them that he even arranged their pictures at the table so he could eat breakfast with them.  It was a loss for him too. 

For weeks, maybe even months, he would ask about them and ask why.  He asks still (although much less frequently.) He would ask if they had found the perfect family fit and I would just sigh.

  I didn't know...I still don't know.

But what I do know is that in July, we welcomed 3 kids to our family...3 kids that will be ours one day.

That, however, is a story for another day. 

and in the meantime, know that EVERY day nowadays is another day in the process of becoming not me...

love keeps no records

I know, I know...it's been 6 months since I wrote.  They have been 6 months of uncertainty and change and yet life as "usual".  Something big is coming soon...and I promise to update my blog when it comes! 

But for today, I just need to share something small.

Matthew turned 4 at the beginning of March...and it seemed like almost immediately he began to struggle with life.  He was easily frustrated, easily agitated, constantly emotional, always demanding and unable to handle life when he didn't get his way.  For the first time, he started throwing tantrums, real tantrums. 

Of course, I started looking for reasons.  I asked all sorts of questions and blamed all sorts of things, including myself.

Was he just struggling because he had been sick?  Was it his shots?  Was he trying to process all of the upcoming changes to our family?  Was I stressed out and he was reacting to that?  Was I not doing enough physical activity with him or being "present" enough with him?  Was he frustrated because he was trying new things on his own and sometimes failing?  Was he not getting enough healthy foods, water or sleep? Was there just something wrong?

I would like to say I pondered all of these questions and instantly found an answer.  I didn't.

The truth is that Matthew has always been a complicated, sensitive child in many ways.  He is extremely sensitive to unexpected, loud noises (machinery, trains, even public "power" toilets) yet he plays the drums louder than anyone I know.  He's painfully shy and skeptical around people he doesn't know REALLY well and will frequently hide but at unexpected times is a social butterfly and indescribably friendly and talkative.  There are a "select" few in this world that he seeks and is comfortable receiving physical affection from but from those people he wants almost endless affection.  When "others" tousle his hair or pick him up or tickle him, he just goes straight to fight or flight mode. (So please - don't tousle his hair, pick him up or tickle him:)  If he can't get something simple done the first time without struggle, he becomes incredibly frustrated and "defeated" yet he is always wanting to try something new on his own.

To be brutally honest, I just don't get most of his quirks!  For the most part, I am the exact opposite and I  can't fathom anyone getting upset over these things. Loud noises are never an issue except when I'm trying to sleep.  I'm an extrovert's extrovert and have never known shyness or fear of a crowd.  I'm not in the least a touchy, feely person but even affection from absolute strangers doesn't phase me.  (After all, my husband was a youth minister for nearly 11 years and I did teach middle school...there were LOTS of uninvited hugs!)  While I am a perfectionist, I take difficulty and even failure as a personal challenge.  I refuse to get frustrated, give up or say "I can't."  And to top it all off, I am extremely unemotional.  In fact, crying is almost foreign to me!

SO the last several weeks have been a real struggle for me as a mom and yesterday was the last straw.  He threw tantrum after tantrum after tantrum over the most trivial, inconsequential things.  I was so done with tantrums and I made sure he knew it...then I did what ever good mother/former teacher does, I made a chart!  I picked 5 behaviors that I wanted him to work on the most and informed him that there would be a system.  When he was successful, I would give him a smiley sticker to put under that column.  When he failed, I would give him a plain dot that would be the equivalent of a naughty sticker.  At the end of the day, we would be able to see if he had more successes or failures.  

The chart was made, the plan was set, the stickers were sitting on the counter...and then God did a funny thing - He led me to the exact scripture I needed (even though I sought it for a completely different reason)...

1 Corinthians 13:4-7 (2 versions)

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. (NIV)

Love never gives up. Love cares more for others than for itself.  Love doesn't want what it doesn't have. Love doesn't strut, doesn't have a swelled head, doesn't force itself on others, isn't always "me first," doesn't fly off the handle, doesn't keep score of the sins of others, doesn't revel when others grovel, takes pleasure in the flowering of truth, puts up with anything, trusts God always, always looks for the best, never looks back, but keeps going to the end.  (MSG)

OK God, I get it...NO NAUGHTY DOTS!

So today began and Matthew asked where his chart was...I got out the chart and the smiley stickers and explained them to him again. Then he asked where the naughty dots were and my heart sank a little bit.  I told him we weren't doing naughty dots and then I read him the scriptures above.  I told him that God didn't keep a record of our wrongs or failures or naughtys and I didn't want to keep a record of his.  There would still be consequences for bad behaviors and attitudes but at the end of the day, I wanted to celebrate his goodness.  Of course, he agreed that was a good idea and so did I.

But here's the honest reality of it for me -  it takes every ounce, and I mean EVERY ounce, of self control not to grab for one of those lousy dots and slap it on there when he chooses to misbehave.  My human side wants him to know exactly what he's done wrong and how many times.  I want a record of it so I can force him to face it the next time he misbehaves as a looming reminder.  I WANT that record of wrong

BUT I want something else more...

I want my son to know that I love him for who he is and not what he does or doesn't do.  I want my son to live so deeply in grace and mercy and forgiveness that as he grows up he will not hesitate to extend it to others.  I want my son to know the boundless love of the Father and I realize that right now, I am the living example of that.  

BUT more than anything...

I want to become so unlike the me I am that I no longer even desire the record of others' wrongs.  I want more than anything to love just like I have been loved...

but I know I can't and stay the way I am so I am realizing that this is just another step in the process of becoming NOT me...