How to Outlive Your Mortality

I got a link to an interesting article the other day from a friend who likes to make me think. (Thank you, Danielle:)

It was written by a professor at Baylor, and dealt with the topic of the pull between the workplace and the home on the hearts of women.  ( No Happy Harmony )

It's the argument that never dies between females.

The woman who chooses the workplace often feels like she is doing a halfway job on the home front, and that the sacrifices she has to make to climb the corporate ladder are too steep to pay.

Is it right to miss so many milestones, to turn over the privilege of molding a life to a paid stranger, just to gain a paycheck and a sense of personal satisfaction?

On the other hand, the woman who chooses the home sometimes feels that her unique set of skills and abilities is being subsumed by the demands of her home and family. 

Is it right for the world to be robbed of the talents of a brilliant artist or physicist or musician (or advertising executive) just so she can stay home and change her own child's diapers?

Should her interests and intellect be buried within the four walls of her house for the most productive quarter of her life?

What is a woman to do?   

I know the path I have taken and I can explain the reasons behind it to anyone who would like to hear them, but I want to take this post in a slightly different direction.

As I read this professor's article I was struck with the level of anxiety that many women (probably this applies to men as well) live with on a daily basis as they attempt to set themselves on the trajectory to "maximum success" in their lives.  

And I know for a fact that this even applies to stay at home moms, because I passionately desire to be outstanding at my job--sometimes to the point of forgetting why (and for whom) I am working so hard.

Now there is nothing wrong with striving for excellence, but I think that we need to remember a few things.  

We are not gods.


No matter how perfectly we arrange our lives and schedules, we will never "be all we can be." 

At some point, we will be struck with bad luck, or sickness, or a devastating loss, or injury, or death.

Every one of us will come to the end of our lives with things left undone--big things that leave us with the intense longing which can only be felt by creatures who were designed to be immortal, but instead find themselves bound by the shackles of finitude.

Most of us will exit the planet with personal failures, disappointments, and remembrances of people we have hurt or opportunities we have missed.  

Unmarred immortality was set up for us in Eden and we blew it.  Ever since then, we human beings have lived out our short years here in mad race against the clock, encumbered by the limitations of our sin nature and our death-infested bodies. 

We spend a few years in childhood discovering our aptitudes.  Then we start on the learning curve to master our skills and tame our talents.  Finally, right after we hit our stride...

...we begin the long (or short) slide into weakness and frailty. 

At last the grave swallows us and time obliterates all evidence of our existence here.  

This is the fate of all men.  

God has "set eternity in the hearts of men,"  but we are hamstrung by mortality.   (Ecclesiastes 3:11)

Solomon saw it.

Ecclesiastes 1:13-15  "And I set my mind to seek and explore by wisdom concerning all that has been done under heaven. It is a grievous task which God has given to the sons of men to be afflicted with. I have seen all the works which have been done under the sun, and behold, all is vanity and striving after wind. What is crooked cannot be straightened and what is lacking cannot be counted.…"

So how do we live in light of the crushing reality that whether we work in the boardroom or the laundry room, we are temporary and thus, replaceable?   (As my dad said upon his retirement, "My absence will leave a hole as big as a fist leaves in a bucket of water.")

Well, I have good news!  

We do not have to squeeze 1,000,000 years of ambition into 80 years!  

We have a Redeemer, who rescued us from the bondage of an existence twisted by sin and offers us new life in Him here, and eternal, uncorrupted life with Him in heaven.   ( How Can I Be Saved?) 
 
And really, that changes everything.

I wish I could tell all the freshmen coeds in Professors Corey's article to relax, because no matter what they sacrifice, and how much they plan, and how many hours they put in, how much sleep they lose, there is no perfect path to self-actualization here on earth.

They will always have skills left unused and potential left untapped.

It is just one of the many downsides of being mortal.

Our inability to become "super" in the sense of "super-hero" is one of the painful realities that God uses to pull our gaze off of ourselves and our achievements, and onto Him.  

The fact that He has limited our lifespans is actually a supreme, redemptive gift.  It means that the relentless tug of war between pride and frustration in each of us won't last forever.   

Our sin brought us death--painful, frightening, and always too soon for our liking.  But it cuts short the illusion that this temporary, imperfect place is where our ultimate satisfaction exists.  

And that knowledge is freeing! 

Acknowledgment of our transience and acceptance of God's purposes for human finitude should cause a Christian to ask different questions than the world is asking.  

Our focus should not primarily be on how we can live our "best life now", or on how we can achieve complete self-actualization, or on how we can squeeze greatest degree of personal and professional satisfaction from our lives and work.

Rather, we will find our greatest good by looking less at ourselves, and instead striving to use every good gift we have in the service of others and for the glory of God. 

We are to work with skill, determination, perseverance, etc., but not primarily as a means to our own personal happiness. 

We WERE created for excellence.  We SHOULD strive to use our talents, but we should hold every achievement, position, and honor loosely, remembering that it only has meaning in the context of the blessing it brings to others and the glory it brings to God. 

Eric Lidell, the Olympian runner, was given incredible athletic prowess.  He even said that when he ran "he felt God's pleasure" over the fact that his skill was being exercised, but he ended his life--not as an athlete, or even as a "former athlete" on the lecture circuit, but in a prison camp in China, having given up all but his passion for sharing Christ.  

  Dietrich Bonhoeffer gave up friends, status, safety, security, and ultimately, his life in his passion for truth and righteousness.  

William Wilberforce, sacrificed a life of ease and admiration, instead using his wit and his skills as an orator on behalf of the oppressed slave. 

Instead of relaxing into a life of sensual pleasure, he endured 20 years of ridicule and opposition from peers and friends for his faith. 

And let's consider the ultimate example of what it looks like to "not live up to your potential" from a worldly point of view.

Let's say you're God.  And you can do everything, and all things exist by you and through you and for you.  And little, selfish humans have made a mess of your lovely creation and rejected your perfect design. 

What would your first impulse be?   

Would you empty yourself of all your glory, power, and honor, make yourself a slave to the ones you had created (who had declared themselves to be your enemies), place yourself at the mercy of their hatred, and endure death at their hands in order to pay the penalty for their guilty acts?  

No?  Not your idea of "Your Best Life Now"?

Would you, with all your knowledge and perfection, come down and live with them and love them in their ignorance and sin?  

Would your patience and kindness and love be big enough to overcome their stubbornness, faithlessness, and selfish pride?

Hmmm.  Not really tempting.  Wouldn't look good on a resume...

But Jesus did all that.

And in so doing, provided not just redemption, but also a perfect example of how the ultimate human existence can be achieved.

It all starts with knowing who(se) you are.  If you see that "His divine power has granted to us everything pertaining to life and godliness, through the true knowledge of Him who called us by His own glory and excellence," then you need not fear failure because, as long as you are aligned with His will and His ways, there is no such thing as failure for you. (2 Peter 1:3)

If you believe that "by these [His divine power and knowledge] He has granted to us His precious and magnificent promises, so that by them we may become partakers of the divine nature, having escaped the corruption that is in the world," well then!  There is nothing more to prove!  

Those of us who have identified with Christ and become his children could live every moment with divine beneficence, good humor, and peace.  

We could choose to see beyond earthly impediments and rejoice in the kingdom that cannot be shaken.  

We could handle our little victories and defeats with the easy confidence that comes from being known by, loved, and cared for by God Almighty, maker of heaven and earth.

We could.

Or we could wrap ourselves up in fears, insecurities, and regrets. 

We could pull ourselves across the bodies of our fellow man to get recognition at any cost.  

We could compare ourselves to anyone and everyone to see how we measure up.   

We could major in self-promotion, self-service, self-worship, and self-aggrandizement.   

We could second guess, and agonize, and backtrack, and over-analyze, and mourn our limitations and rage against the dying of the light . 

And in the end, no matter how brilliant our flame, if we have lived for ourselves, it will all come to nothing anyway.  

I want something different than the rat race and the gilded cage.  

I want to be like Christ, who rested in the fact that He had "come from God and was returning to God" and thus was content to kneel on the floor and wash the dirt off his disciples feet. (1 John 13)

I want to run hard--but in the peace of Christ and in His strength, not in a panic to make a name for myself.

Ultimately, I want to skid across the finish line with nothing left but a big smile and open arms for the Father who showed me that "to live is Christ and to die is gain." (Philippians 1:21)

He offers the same opportunity to each of us. 

"Come and love!  Pour yourself out!  Forget yourself, your rights, your reputation, and follow Me."

 It will cost you everything.

And you will be blessed.

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Philippians 2:3-8

"Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others.

In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus:

Who, being in very nature God,

did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage;

rather, he made himself nothing

by taking the very nature of a servant,

being made in human likeness.

And being found in appearance as a man,

he humbled himself

by becoming obedient to death—

even death on a cross!"

Jude's Wedding Jitters

A week ago Jude (age 6) began discussing his future plans for life in “a big house with ten sons and a fat (?) car.” 

We established that it would be in Michigan or California, and I mentioned that I hoped it would be Michigan because I wanted very much to live near him, at which point he looked at me with incredulity, and said, “Of COURSE you’ll live near me!  You’ll live WITH me because you’re the Mom!”

Then followed a discussion on how I was already married to Daddy, and how someday he would meet a nice girl and get married to her and SHE would be the Mom and I would be the Grandma. 


It blew his mind to the point where he shut down the conversation and went out with his bucket to catch fish in the creek for a while.

Since then, he has brought up the topic several more times, trying, I think, to warm up to the idea of this nameless future wife of his.  (“Well, who is she?  Do I even KNOW her?  What if I don’t like her? Can you just show her to me?  Etc.)

It came to a head on Sunday as I was tucking him in for his nap.  He threw out a few more questions about his bride-to-be (which I could not answer), and then asked in a tremulous voice, “What do I have to do for my wedding.”

I launched into a nice description of how you go to the church with all of your friends and family—and the bride:)—and the pastor blesses you and prays for you, and asks you to promise to take care of each other, and then there’s a party…and on and on I went, making it sound as lovely and fun as it is designed to be...

...until I noticed that his face was buried in the pillow and his shoulders were shaking with sobs.  Truly alarmed, I wrapped my arms around him as he poured out fear after fear, at times crying too hard to speak.

His concerns were so sweetly naïve that it was hard not to smile a little, even as my heart broke for his distress. 

 

“What if I don’t like the church she likes?  What pastor will be there?  Do I know him?  I only like our pastor.  Where will you be?  Can I sit with you?  I don’t want to talk in church!  I don’t want a wife!  I just want to stay six and have ten sons and that’s ALL!”

Nothing I said to him brought him comfort, so finally I just rubbed his little back until he fell asleep, saddened at my inability to help him see that the things that were striking terror into his little heart would be joys and blessings when he really faced them.

I left his room thinking about the fierceness of my love for my children, about my desire to protect them from fears—both real and imagined—and my longing for them to have lives of joy and peace and fulfillment. 

I passionately desire the best for them, and when I cannot help them face their dragons because they either 1) can’t understand me, 2) won’t listen, or 3) don’t believe me, it grieves my heart.

Which puts me in mind of the times I have worried, and wasted tears, and lost sleep over “what-ifs” that looked like monsters, but were really the equivalent of a six year old fretting about the details of his future wedding.

I wondered why Jude couldn’t just let go and trust me when I said “this thing you are afraid of—it will really be the best day of your life!  Trust me, I’m your mom and I will never lie to you."

And then I remembered with sadness all the times that God was speaking the same thing to me and I still cried myself to sleep.

“Trust me, I’m your Abba Father and I will never lie to you.”

Matthew 11:28  “Come to me all you who are heavy laden and I will give you rest.” 

Psalm 86:15  "But you, O Lord, are a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness."

 John 3:1  "See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are." 

  Romans 8:38-39  "For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord."

Little Jude eventually went to sleep in my arms, and I eventually (usually) let go of my frets and fears and trust my Savior, but wouldn’t it be nice to not have the hours of stewing and weeping beforehand?  

Wouldn’t it be nice to just fall back into the deep knowledge that there are some future events and circumstances that I cannot wrap my mind around, and trust God when He says He will work them to my good?

And that’s another thing.  I can't "work" the future out for anyone, including myself.

I have lots of love, but no power.  


I can’t guarantee that Jude’s wife will be nice, or that his 10 sons will be hale and hearty, or that he will even live to see those blessings.

But I have a Father who has both love and power--limitless, fathomless power, both to divine what is truly best for me, and to effect it.  

How, how, how do I spend one moment in useless worry?  Even over the things that truly are life-altering threats?

God has taken my tear-stained face in His hands and spoken promises that cannot be shaken.  

He has proven His love by giving His Son for my redemption.   

He has left me his Spirit for comfort, intercession, and conviction.   

He has preserved his living Word for my refreshment and instruction.    

He has secured my eternity through His blood.

How can He be so patient with me when I come to Him yet again with my “nap-time worries” –and refuse to be comforted? 

I am basically casting doubt on His ability, questioning His veracity, and setting my wisdom above His.  What God would put up with that level of chutzpah?

Mine would.

Because in addition to being King of the Universe, He is also my Abba. 

He has adopted me and called me his beloved, and He looks on my weakness with tenderness and understanding.

And just so I don’t miss this act of mercy, after everything else He has done, He reaches down and paints pictures of His great care for me through the mirror of the relationship I share with my children.

In the compassion I feel for the frailties in my own little ones, I see His great compassion for me.

How loved am I!  

**Praying for several dear friends who are walking with their children through valleys of uncertainty right now.  May you be comforted by God’s word and his Spirit, and by the knowledge that His strength is made perfect in our weakness. (2 Corinthians 12:9)**

**************************

Psalm 103:14

…Just as a father has compassion on his children, So the LORD has compassion on those who fear Him. For He Himself knows our frame; He is mindful that we are but dust. As for man, his days are like grass; As a flower of the field, so he flourishes.…

On Boys, Bears, and the Bondage We Choose

Several weeks ago while standing in front of the bear cage at the zoo with my boys and their friends, I observed an interesting phenomenon.   

The bear had his face up to the two inches of glass which separated him from our motley crew, looking with longing at the assortment of pint sized nuggets which stood just beyond his reach, and the boys... 

...well, instead of exhibiting an appropriate level of awe for the power and ferocity contained in the monster before them, they were roaring at him, flexing, strutting, pretending to punch his drooling jowls with their tiny fists, laughing and egging one another on in a miniature show of bravado.   

They were talking about what they would do to him if they could “just get in there” and how he would lose and lose and lose again to their mighty undercuts and karate chops. 

All that bravery from a little slab of glass!

And the thought came to me that that is very much the way we are with our enemy down here.  

A few years of ease, a taste of the blessings of freedom in Christ, and we sometimes forget that we are not strong in ourselves.

We neglect to be grateful for the protective benefits of living for God and begin to question our need for them--like boys at a bear cage.   

But unlike at the zoo, we CAN actually get into the pen with our enemy if we choose to.

And he is a thousand times more dangerous than a bear.  

1 Peter 5:8 "Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour."

But the trickiest thing about our adversary is that he doesn’t even look like a scary beast, although that is what he is.  

He tends to show himself more like the friendly host of a bright party filled with beautiful people, and laughter, and delicious food. He looks out from his prison on the outskirts of the barriers which God has mercifully provided for His children, and he beckons to all of us.

“Just give up your freedom and all the wide world and come share my cage instead. You'll be happy here.  Really.  I promise."

Your enemy points out your place at his table—the dream relationship you’ve constructed with the person you aren’t married to, the fantasies you could live online, the promotion you could attain by strategy and subterfuge, the satisfaction you could achieve through selfishness, the short, pleasant walk to the "life of your dreams".

And you start to imagine your world in a bear cage. 

And then you start to wonder if YOU are actually the one trapped behind glass and maybe HE is the one living in bountiful, glorious freedom.  

 Because that is what he keeps telling you--like a wild animal who is trying to convince a pack of little children to mistrust the Designer of the zoo, with all its silly moats and iron bars and safety glass, and to put their faith in him instead.  

Our enemy speaks lies out of his lust for our blood, not out of concern for us.  

Look underneath the pretty white tables. 

There are rows of the children he has gassed to death in Syria, and broken fathers and mothers who chased after “someone better” and ended up with broken hearts and the ashes of their former lives, the prisoners, slaves, and addicts who were promised freedom and given shackles.

And he is licking his chops over you.

 

At the zoo, two inches of impenetrable glass made what was actually a lethal killing machine seem funny and exciting to my boys.  It made their bravery exceed their skills in ways that never would have happened if they had been out in the real woods with that exact same bear.

Safety is an incubator for imagination—which can be a good thing when you are speaking of the creativity inventors, artists, and authors.  

But in the case of evil, the protective care of the Good Shepherd can sometimes cause hapless sheep to build IMAGINARY adventures in the lion cage which would prove fatal in real life. 

Isaiah 40:11  "He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads those that have young."

Security paints a rosy glow over everything in our lives to the point that even danger and badness can lose their horror.  

How I wish we weren't so fickle--that we could live our years nestled into blessing after blessing and remain wholehearted and true to our first Love!

Maybe some of you have so put on the mind of Christ that you are able to ever and always keep your hearts from straying.  Oh!  I want to be there too!

For me, it has been my tastes of suffering that have sharpened my senses.  Pain is what I have needed to waken me from futile pursuits and foolish imaginings, to remind me of my frailty and the relentless nature of evil.

Suffering causes me to refocus my gaze on the the amazing deliverance and redemption which God provides.  

I have wondered if this is what the passage in 1 Peter 4 means when it says, "Therefore, since Christ suffered in his body, arm yourselves also with the same attitude, because whoever suffers in the body is done with sin.  As a result, they do not live the rest of their earthly lives for evil human desires, but rather for the will of God."

Whoever has spent a season in the bear cage (and lives to tell about it), loses the taste for those adventures.  A few mauling blows from a grizzly and you don't really feel like strutting and bragging about how much fun it is to wrestle a bear.

I imagine that if David had met Bathsheba while he was hiding from his enemies in the cave of Adullam, he wouldn't have been nearly as tempted as he was in his season of wealth and ease and "peace".  

Same man, same God, all that was different was his perspective on reality.

Are we so different?

A steady trickle of “coming out of Christianity” memoirs written by former evangelicals has been hitting the market lately, and I’ve seen a number of well-brought up youths of my own acquaintance with their noses pressed up against the glass of the bear cage and a hunger in their eyes.

And I’ve trembled for them.

May I always be grateful for whatever it takes to keep me clinging to my Father's hand at the zoo.

And oh, my children!  May you be delivered from youthful arrogance, from the myth of invincibility, from the siren song of the caged world.  

May you always be loyal to your true Hero, the Tamer of the beast, the Possessor of the power you could never wield, the One who bought your freedom at a price you cannot fathom. 

May you be blessed with enough struggle to keep you humble and enough pain to keep you teachable.

And may the spiritual protection you have grown up under never, ever cause you to underestimate your enemy.

********************

O sacred Head, now wounded, with grief and shame weighed down,
Now scornfully surrounded with thorns, Thine only crown;
O sacred head, what glory, what bliss till now was thine!
Yet, though despised and gory, I joy to call thee mine.

What Thou, my Lord, hast suffered, was all for sinners' gain;
Mine, mine was the transgression, but Thine the deadly pain.
Lo, here I fall, my Savior! 'Tis I deserve Thy place;
Look on me with Thy favor, vouchsafe to me Thy grace.

What language shall I borrow to thank Thee, dearest friend,
For this Thy dying sorrow, Thy pity without end?
O make me Thine forever, and should I fainting be,
Lord, let me never, never outlive my love to Thee.

 --lyrics to "O Sacred Head Now Wounded"