considerable grace

I was making it home yesterday just fine when WHAM! I went from an experienced frequent flyer (bopping along to some tunes, interspersing work and rest, happily trying to be kind to people and not overly concerned with my own comfort) to a troubled and sad woman.

And the strange thing is, it all happened so fast. (My emotions really ARE prone to swells and dips, aren’t they?)

It’s 3:30AM now and I’m about to go down into the office and work on packing my SC orders, but first I thought I’d pray. (OK. FIRST I thought I’d check email and FaceBook. Just being honest.) And THEN I thought, “Wow! I need to pray.”

To do so? In moments like these when my heart is grouchy and troubled and angst-ridden? I need to write. Praying out loud or silently to myself just doesn’t cut it. There’s something about the tactile transfer of words to page (or words to screen) that helps me to stay organized and (hopefully!) better equip me for faith’s fight against sin (or grieving with hope or casting all my cares on the Lord because He cares for me—whatever the situation du jour requires).

After some time processing, this is what I’ve come up with:

- Just as “Fight 37” continues to tempt Fred and me in our marriage, my restless heart last night had at its root absolutely nothing new. Bottom line? I was rejected last night and I felt the sting of past rejection last night and I feared further rejection last night.

- Yup. It was my old nemesis: Fear of Man. Rather than finding myself wholly in Christ; rather than being defined wholly by His love for me and His care for me; rather than staking my claim on His finished work (the gospel!) ... I wanted people to want me. And when they didn’t? (Or I just FELT like they didn’t?) My heart was tempted to despair.

(Oh oh oh. What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God ...)

Ironically, the actual rejection didn’t even hurt me that much. It was from dear Eleanor! And even I, messed up ol' Tara, could understand why a little six month-old baby who had only been held by her father for five straight days would cry and cry and CRY during our 30-second transfer in between getting me home from the airport and Fred’s needing to leave for his deacon’s meeting at church. Does my baby not love me? Of course not. After a few minutes, did she figure out that she actually adores me and feels safe with me and did she calm right down and fall asleep snuggled into me? Yes. Thankfully. (Especially because she is, like Sophie, getting sick now which is very concerning to me since RSV is going through our little town again.)

So that was unpleasant. (Happy as a clam baby in her father’s arms. Transfer to me? COMPLETE BABY CRUMPLE FACE!! Back to Fred? Cooing and sweet. Handed to me? Cry scream weep cry. Nope. Not pleasant.)

But it didn’t really HURT me. She was just a tired, not feeling well, little muffin. I mostly felt bad for her. Her “rejection” didn’t wound me.

It was actually the remembrance of past rejection and the fear of future rejection that touched a deeply wounded place in me—a place that I honestly believed was a little more healed and sound and mature than was evidenced last night.

The past rejection was, I believe, brought out of my subconscious mind and thrust into my conscious existence by a series of sensory experiences I had in one of my (four) airports yesterday.

It happened at the end of a long layover that had otherwise been very pleasant (laptop plugged in; cranking through actionable emails; enjoying conversations off and on with my mother, mother-in-law, and Fred; ordering some educational materials for Sophie; totally enjoying my first dessert of the weekend—a tall mocha frappuccino extra shot no whip—YUM!) ...

But when it came time to move towards my gate, I bopped along to an old Keith Green album (hearing), looked out the window and saw the mountains (sight), and could still smell and taste my mocha frappuccino. Then, without warning, I had the strongest remembrance of the time in my life when I was wracked by the greatest pain and the greatest rejection I have ever felt. It was far worse than the suffering related to my childhood, because just as Psalm 55 so powerfully captures, this was a pain related to a brother in Christ. And thus, it was devastating:

"If an enemy were insulting me,
I could endure it;
if a foe were raising himself against me,
I could hide from him.

But it is you, a man like myself,
my companion, my close friend,

with whom I once enjoyed sweet fellowship
as we walked with the throng at the house of God." Psalm 55:12-14

In a wave of swirling emotions last night, I remembered with horror how hopeless and helpless and unloved and beyond redemption I felt during that time of life. I even remembered (although I am SO shamed to admit this!) how I entertained the thought, in that very airport of not going home to Fred. Ever.

What a wicked thought! But I had it. I started to tell myself that my life would be better if I just walked out through security, rented a car, drove it as far as I could, left it by the side of the road, and then walked as far as I could into the desert until I found a diner where I could get a job under a false name and live the rest of my life. Alone.

I know that must sound crazy to you. Today? February 2, 2010? It sounds crazy to me too. But at that time? In my pain? I really did relate to what the psalmist wrote:

"My heart is in anguish within me;
the terrors of death assail me.

Fear and trembling have beset me;
horror has overwhelmed me.

I said, "Oh, that I had the wings of a dove!
I would fly away and be at rest-

I would flee far away
and stay in the desert;
Selah

I would hurry to my place of shelter,
far from the tempest and storm." Psalm 55:4-8

Back then, after an extended season of suffering, all I wanted to do was “fly away.”

Thankfully, even though it cut my heart like a knife (!); and though I remember that I was the very last person to board my plane, I did not run away from that airport those many years ago. Instead, I went home and confessed to Fred my temptation to flee from my troubles.

Miraculously, he did not respond with judgment and rejection as I confessed such a faithless and evil temptation. Instead, he said one of the most gracious things that anyone has ever said to me in any context:

"I would have found you, Tara. If you hadn’t gotten off of that plane in Billings, I would have been on the next flight to find you and I never would have stopped searching until I brought you home."

("What do you think? If a man owns a hundred sheep, and one of them wanders away, will he not leave the ninety-nine on the hills and go to look for the one that wandered off? ...")

All of these thoughts and remembrances came washing over me as I headed to my gate. But even that was OK. I was mostly rejoicing in God’s grace in keeping me in Him throughout that challenging time. I was grateful that my current life situation was not one of raw, daily suffering like so many people I know and care about.

I was doing OK. But then ...

Then I began to think more and more (and more) about a current situation I am facing wherein I’m fairly certain I am being criticized and judged (and rejected) by a group of people to a group of people and oh! It just makes me sad. No, that’s not completely true. The truth is that it makes me sad, yes, but it also makes me MAD. Especially because I truly feel that their view of me is unfair and unwarranted.

(Whoops! My practical theology is showing with that statement isn’t it. I talk a good ("confessional theology") game re: the doctrines of indwelling sin and total depravity, but when push comes to shove, my PRIDE rears up against TRUTH and deep down I want to defend and vindicate myself. I can coach and teach The Cross and Criticism with the best of them, but actually LIVING IT OUT?! Well, crud.)

(Oh, and by the way, as Fred gently reminded me last night ... Probably? The people I am tempted to obsess over aren’t even thinking of me AT ALL. More than likely, I’m not even a blip on their radar screen because people really do think of us a LOT LESS than we can ever imagine.)

The truth is that it is HARD to live for Christ alone, by faith alone, for God’s glory alone. It is hard to die to self. Left to our own devices, we usually WANT to “fit in” and “be liked” (and we will expend a lot of time, emotions, effort, and energy trying to get people to think well of us and “choose us”).

Fear of man really is a snare!

"Fear of man will prove to be a snare, but whoever trust in the Lord is kept safe." Proverbs 29:25

That is our only hope.

I knew it last night, even as my heart was heavy. I kept TRYING to beat back against my emotions with truth. I even said out loud, “The LORD is with me; I will not be afraid. What can man do to me?” (Psalm 118:6-7).

I reached out to two dear friends and asked them to pray for me.

I reviewed old journal entries on suffering and remembered:

"What God ordains is always good: His will is just and holy. As he directs my life for me, I follow meek and lowly. My God indeed in every need knows well how he will shield me; to him then I will yield me.

What God ordains is always good: He never will deceive me; He leads me in his own right way, and never will he leave me. I take content what he has sent; his hand that sends me sadness, will turn my life to gladness.

What God ordains is always good: His loving thought attends me; No poison can be in the cup that my physician sends me. My God is true each morning new I trust his grace unending, my life to him commending.

What God ordains is always good: He is my loving father. He never seeks to do me harm though many storms may gather. Now though I know both joy and pain, some day I shall see clearly, that he has loved me dearly.

What God ordains is always good; This truth remains unshaken. Though sorrow, need, or death be mine, I shall not be forsaken. I fear no harm, for with his arm He shall embrace and shield me; So to my God I yield me."

Did remembering truth fix everything and suddenly make me 100% happy and at peace? No.

But remembering truth—God is real; all of history is on a timeline of redemption; I am no longer an orphan; this life is short; eternity is my real home; God is growing me in grace and HE will complete the good work He has begun; what can man do to me?—did help. Oh, and I also left EVERYTHING a total wreck in the house last night (which is very out of character for me). I didn’t even try to unpack one bag or catch up on one administrative email.

I just climbed into bed with the girls, read, cuddled, and went to sleep (because I also recognized that some of my temptations last night were simply tied to me being physically and mentally exhausted).

There is grace for the day! And the Lord will never reject His children (Psalm 27:10).

Off to pack some orders now ...
(In the battle. But striving to remember that the battle is already won.)

Happy Tuesday to you!

Your friend,
Tara B.