40 Graces for Forgiveness - A Healing Journey

  Whereas Jesus often went away to be alone with God, I often go away simply to be alone. “Where’s the exit route?” is always in the back of my mind. I like to be the one to drive when going out with a group, for example, not because I think I’m the best driver—okay, there’s that too—but mainly so I can leave whenever  I  decide it’s time. Part of my escapist tendency stems from simple introvert fatigue, but it also results from having been helplessly stuck with people I didn’t enjoy in places I didn’t want to be. In other words, I like control. And when I’m all by my lonesome, I get nearly total control over everything. Yum! A pastor I once heard said that much of the Christian life consists in trying to keep oneself on the road between two ditches of error: Steer too far to one side and you fall into hedonism, the other Pharisaism; one direction leads toward arrogance, the other to unholy shame; too extreme this way and you consent to sin in the name of tolerance, the o...

  I could write a book on this one. Heck, a series of books. I’ve even offered to be a keynote speaker on the topic. No takers yet, though. If you really want an in-depth meditation on foolishness, hit Proverbs. (31 chapters, 31 days in a month—coincidence?) There are 71 references to fools in Proverbs  alone . I had a hard time picking just one for today. No one wants to think himself a fool, but when I refuse godly or even plain-common-sense advice, justify myself, argue against Scripture, get complacent about my faith or behavior or attitudes, talk more than I listen, mock others, tolerate sin in my life, brag about anything, hide anything, or seek to deceive anyone, I wallow like a fat, happy pig in the muck of my own foolishness. And we know what pigs are usually destined for, right? MmmmMMmmm, bacon. I had a conversation recently with a woman who hates men. I don’t think I’m overstating it. She had nothing good to say about the male gender, and refused my arguments that ...

  When I was younger I made a vow that I would never need anyone. I would always take care of myself. That was an unholy vow—one that does not align with God’s will—and I had to renounce it some years ago in order to let God realign my life and start putting me back in right relationship with others. The error in my oath was not necessarily that I committed to not putting my faith in other people, but that I put it all in myself. God was nowhere in sight. Jesus can calm a storm with his hand, drive out a legion of demons with a word, and offer salvation to the entire population of humanity by his single act of sacrifice. I turn the wrong way while under the visual  and  verbal instruction of a GPS, I frequently call my children by the wrong names, and I cut myself slicing carrots. Jesus was meek, which as we’ve seen means not that he lacked power, but that he didn’t use his power to dominate or intimidate others. By trying to manage life under my own power ...

  Yeesh. It’s just getting uglier and uglier in this third quarter of Lent. You know what I fantasize about? Kind of a lot? My books and blog taking off, going viral, and getting lots of popular attention, at which time the editors, agents, and publishers who for years had their interns send me form rejection letters start calling to offer me contracts. The most giddily gratifying part of that daydream is when I say, “Thank you for your interest, but this isn’t really what I’m looking for right now.”  Click. Bwah-ha-ha-ha-ha!!! Vengeance. Served on the rocks, with a twist. Revenge is getting somebody back. Balancing the scales. Serving justice as you see fit. Don’t we all love a good revenge story?  The Count of Monte Cristo .  The Cask of Amontillado .  The Italian Job . We revel in seeing the villain get his desserts. It satisfies our sense of justice. If God is both perfectly just and perfectly merciful, and he has put both of those traits (or desires) inside...

  Oh, here’s another one I’d so much prefer to skip. Can we just agree that I’m selfish and leave it at that? Kidding, God. Just kidding… I  used to  have anger issues. In attempting to eradicate them I have discovered that at least 99.9% of my episodes of anger are 100% self-centered. A friend who went through counseling for anger told me to ask myself, when I’m angry, what it is I want and am not getting. Holy smoking ears, Batman. Is that ever an illuminating exercise. I want that other car to get the heck out of the left lane and out of my way because I am late and he is making me more late! I want my children to stop spilling their beverages and creating more work for me! I want my husband to interpret, “No, nothing is wrong,” to mean, “Of course something is wrong, and you should already know what it is!!!” Why yes, I do think I’m the center of the universe. Actually, I’ve come a long road in expunging anger from my life, by way of post-partum depression, a year of ...

  During this third quarter of Lent I’m going deep into some of the ways I’m exactly not like Jesus. He is wise; I am foolish. He is just; I am selfish. He is perfect; I am broken. I’m looking forward to working through these next ten days about as much as I look forward to eating Brussels sprouts or having a tooth drilled or cleaning a hair clog out of the drain. Brokenness. We get used to living with our own damaged parts. We forget that’s not the way it’s supposed to be. In fact, when we live with something long enough, it becomes status quo, situation normal,  the way I am . We’re not sure we want to change anything, because we don’t know what healthy would even look like. I’ve known a few people in my life who owned the label “Victim”. It became the primary identifier of their personhood. I remember two in particular who went from therapist to therapist, help group to help group, exhausting friend after friend after friend after friend, never actually putting into practic...

  The scene during Christ’s 40 days in the desert, when Satan offers him the kingdoms of the world in exchange for worship, used to baffle me. The world already belonged to God, so what did Satan think he really had to bargain with? God, and therefore Jesus, is already the King of Everything. Except that he’s not. Be assured, by the end of time “every knee will bow and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord,” but in the right here and right now, not a single one has to. That’s the price God paid—Christ paid—for my freedom. I can use my freedom to bend my knees to whomever or whatever I choose. The kingdoms of the world have not chosen Christ as their king. And if I’m not subject to Christ, I’m a patriot in the camp of the Enemy, no matter what name I call him. So when Satan offered Jesus the world, he offered Kingship without sacrifice. For the small shipping and handling fee of bowing his knee to Satan, Jesus could have had the world without going to the cross. Jesus could...