In Spite of My Doubt (Part 1)

I grew up in the church, and in a family where beliefs were taught as fact.  There wasn't room for questioning because, to my parents and grandparents, truth was black and white.  God could be understood.  Right and wrong was easily decipherable.  The churches we went to believed the 'right things.'  Other denominations, faiths, practices- those that didn't line up with ours- were wrong.  I was taught to defend my faith.  I was taught all the answers.  I embraced all of it strongly and proudly spoke out on those beliefs.  Doubting was for the uneducated- if you learned enough of the Bible you didn't doubt.

A few years ago, when we began the process to adopt 2 children from Haiti, my beliefs still mostly lined up with what I'd been taught as a child.  I had no idea that this journey would be the start of undoing most of what I thought was non-negotiable. 

I'm not a patient person.  Impatience is definitely a serious fault of mine.  Adoption requires waiting and offers very little control.  Adopt from a third world country and lack of control cannot begin to describe the reality of waiting and wondering while longing and worrying.  I didn't do it well- the waiting.  Maybe, in hindsight, even my weakness in this area served a greater purpose than to just make me feel like a loser as a Christian.  Maybe it was part of God's design to begin tearing apart my misconceptions of Him- to reveal a God who truly is too big for me to even try to comprehend.

Visiting a third world country will also mess with a person's mind- especially a person who has grown up believing that doing the right things will produce the right results.  Add to that that I am a person who lives in one of the wealthiest counties in the nation- which makes it, far and away, one of the wealthiest communities in the world.  Culturally- almost all of us here, even if we won't admit it to ourselves, believe that we somehow 'deserve' the things we have.  Being served a plate of food at a restaurant that has a stray hair in it can be the ruination of our entire day.  Visiting Haiti got me thinking- and wondering- is EVERYONE there just NOT doing the right thing?  Do NONE of them deserve more from God?  Does He even hear their prayers?  Why is there such a VAST difference between my contaminated but gargantuan-sized plate of steak and potatoes and their endless days of NO food?

And there I was, trying so hard to 'obey God' and bring two children out of the muck and mire to a markedly better life in suburbia USA and no matter how much I begged, He wouldn't intervene and hurry up the process.  They remained there for more than twice the amount of time we were told we'd wait.  What about that verse, 'ask and you shall receive?'  Hmmm??  What about that, God?  And wouldn't here be far better than there for these kids, God?  Why would you leave them hungry, thirsty, unloved and unsafe for so long??  I knew all the verses in the Bible that spoke to these things- verses that said God is a rescuer.  He is love.  He takes care of children and the helpless.  He demands that we, as His followers, join Him in these endeavors- and yet, at least in my understanding, He wasn't pulling His weight.  He wasn't coming through for them or for me.

And so, in spite of all that I knew that I knew, I started doubting God.  I started wondering...

The Pastor's Wife

That's been one of my titles for the past 7+ years.  A title I never expected to have.  A title I'm still not quite sure what to do with.  A title I have, honestly, been embarrassed and maybe even ashamed of, at times.  I don't want to be defined by that title.  When people hear that I'm a pastor's wife- I don't want them to suddenly have different expectations of me.  I don't want them to assume things about me based on that description.

Before I go any further- let me say very clearly that I could not be more proud of my husband.  His role as a minister suits him so well.  He is excellent at what he does and incredibly gifted in what he has been called to.  I am indescribably proud of him and never for one minute embarrassed or ashamed to be his wife.  That is not what I'm talking about here.

I regularly feel the need to clarify to new acquaintances that I haven't always been a pastor's wife, nor did I 'sign up to be one.'  In fact, I let them know that I actually pointed out to my husband that this role was not outlined in our marriage vows- it wasn't part of the deal.  I joke that I'm not well enough behaved to fit into this role.  I go overboard with this- most likely making them feel uncomfortable- in an effort to somehow try to not be perceived as I have always perceived women who hold this title.

I grew up in the church and have known many pastor's wives throughout my life.  As a child, adolscent, and even young adult, I perceived these ladies to be 'ultra-spiritual,' submissive, demure, gentle women who played the piano at church and hosted dainty tea parties for expectant mothers and brides-to-be.  They were definitely well-behaved.  They wore dresses and pantyhose.  They were strict but calm mothers.  They were quietly present at all church gatherings.  They knew what they believed and led women's Bible studies on topics like 'how to be a good wife,' and 'how to have a gentle and quiet spirit.'  These women never drink anything stronger than black coffee and certainly never use strong language.

Hmmm... Me?  Not so much.

I have definitely tried to be ultra-spiritual- and have even been dogmatic about my beliefs in the past.  I've never been what I used to think submissive was.  I'm not demure or necessarily gentle.  I do know how to play the piano but never have in church.  I don't own a tea set.  I'm not well-behaved.  I don't own a dress and have sworn to never wear pantyhose again in my life.  I am a strict mother- but not calm.  I don't go to very many church gatherings.  I haven't led a Bible study in years.  I like Rum and Cokes, Mojitos and often feel like only words that are considered 'foul' can possibly do justice to what I'm trying to say.

So how does the title look on me?  Well, I'm passionate and bold- but not about things you might expect.  I long to work alongside my husband but only if I am free to bring all of myself to the task.  I have a LOT of questions about who God is and what the Bible really means.  I wonder how He meant for us to understand it and if we're even close.  I have had days where I wonder if God exists.  I have had days where I've thought that if He does- He can't be a good God.  I have serious questions about who, in the end, will get into Heaven and wonder if maybe He might find a way to get a whole lot more people there than most Christians believe.  I don't understand completely, but think that maybe most people don't choose their sexuality and, regardless, I think that if I'm going to be like Jesus I should just love everyone well.  I think that when our bodies became the temple for the Holy Spirit we should have stopped pouring money into buildings and sanctuaries and started caring much much more for those whose temples have been abused, neglected, famished, dehydrated, unsheltered, forgotten and unloved.

Going to church doesn't feel like worship for me- it feels like a place where I am expected to come and represent what the leadership believes but a place where I should not bring the questions I have or talk about the ways my beliefs differ.  I'm wondering if those are limitations and expectations I've assumed on myself or if they really exist.

Inspite of all of this, I love being married to my pastor.  I love the journey we've been on together.  I love that God is ok with my questions and doubts.  And I believe that He loves me and has me here to teach me more of Him and His truth.  I want to be faithful to keep seeking Him and spend less time worrying about how I'm percieved and much more time finding out how I can honor Him as a pastor's wife.

In Spite of My Guilt

Mommy Guilt
Sinner's Guilt
Financial Guilt
Wasted Time Guilt
Laziness Guilt
Over-eater's Guilt
Wife Guilt
Letting Others Down Guilt
Unhealthy Choices Guilt
Wicked Thoughts Guilt

I have all of that and more. I carry around a burden of guilt that is unbearably heavy. And I can't just put it down because I have wallowed in it. I have tied it on. It is wrapped around and around. I must actually cling to it- as if my life depended on it.

WHY?

I don't know when it started. I know that there was a lot of legalism in my home growing up. There were a lot of rules and a lot of lectures. There was lots of guilt heaped on me. So, I assume that it began before I had a choice. But what about now? I know the truth. I've read the Bible and meditated on God's Word. I know, logically, that in Christ, there is NO CONDEMNATION. Christ didn't have to die twice on the cross for my sins- just once. I know that in my head, but it doesn't transfer. I see how fall short I fall from God's glory and I get stuck.

Lately my greatest burden of guilt is Mommy Guilt. The harder I try to do things right, the more often I mess up. I yell too much. I scream. I say hurtful things. I demand and expect. I am legalistic. I am becoming what I knew, or at least what I remember, as a child. Look at what it has turned me into.

WHY?

Why would I do to my precious children what I can look back and see was wrong with how I was parented? And, when I see how wrong it is and want so desperately to be different, why do I keep making the same mistakes over and over again?

I can't seem to find the answers to those questions right now. But I am determined to dive deep into the truth. I KNOW that my God will give me victory. I don't know when or how, and I don't know why it hasn't come yet. But I will continually believe Him for freedom from all this guilt. I will NOT let it win.

Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit of life set me free from the law of sin and death. Romans 8:1 (I will meditate on the entire chapter!)

I can do everything through him who gives me strength. Philippians 4:23 (I can even stop yelling.)

I keep trying to stop this behavior with no success. I keep trying to NOT feel guilty. I think maybe I need to look at what I can do. I can fill my heart and mind up with the word of God. I can learn to know Him more. Love Him more. Dwell in Him more.

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and
petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace
of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your
minds in Christ Jesus.
Finally brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right,
whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable- if anything is
excellent or praiseworthy-think about such things. Philippians 4:
6-8
Come near to God and he will come near to you. James 4:8

Hear my cry, O God; listen to my prayer. From the ends of the earth I callto you. I call as my heart grows faint; lead me to the rock that is higher than I. Psalm 61:1-2

I keep listening to the lies that Satan whispers in my ear. And I keep telling myself things that I know aren't true. It is time for me to get back to what I KNOW TO BE TRUE. It is time for me to spend lots of time reading the 'Love Letter' God wrote to each of us, to me. I will saturate my heart and mind in His Word. And I will spend time having long talks with my Jesus. I know that I know that when I am filled up with Him and His Love that I will overflow with that love and truth in my parenting. I'm so looking forward to laying down this burden that is weighing me down in so many areas of my life.

And I'm sure that in spite of my guilt, God's love will overwhelm my soul and refresh my spirit.

In Spite of My Grief

I didn't really know grief until Nandinie died. I had experienced losing my grandparents and that was hard- but not devastating.

My life has been pretty and easy. It has been happy and blessed. It has been sheltered.

And then grief happened to me.

It was a complete surprise. I didn't even know that Nandinie was sick until she was already gone. And she hadn't ever been here with us. She was still in Haiti. So even the depth of my grief was a surprise, as we didn't really know her or have a relationship with her. We only had our hopes and dreams of her and the love we felt for her because she had been born in our hearts the moment we said yes to adopting her.

People who have not experienced devastating losses in their lives can sympathize with someone who is grieving, but not empathize. There is a difference and I learned that after she died. I have been forever changed. I am now a momma who has lost a child. I am part of that group. And so is her birth momma.

I realize now that this culture doesn't know what to do with grieving people. We are uncomfortable with them. We want them to STOP grieving so that we can stop being uncomfortable. How do you stop something that overtakes you in spite of you? God told us to expect both. Both are NORMAL. Neither is wrong or out of place in this lifetime.

There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under heaven;
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance...
Ecclesiastes 3: 1-4 NIV

There are other cultures that do a better job of joining someone on a journey thru grief. And, I believe that we used to do a better job too. There were periods in history when people who were in mourning wore clothing that announced to the world that they had lost someone close to them. People didn't try to hide that life was hard or ignore that someone was hurting. It was known at a glance. And they might have worn their mourning clothes for several months or maybe even a year or longer. It must have been a comforting reminder to a hurting person that it was still okay and even expected that he or she put on those clothes and remember their grief and the life of the person they lost as they also took time to heal.

I'm not saying that is the answer- or that there aren't down sides to that idea. I just think we don't know how to let ourselves grieve for as long as it takes or to let someone else grieve as they need to.

As I cried out to God and sought for answers in the Bible in those first few weeks after her death, I came to understand a passage of scripture that hadn't ever made sense to me before. In the book of John, chapter 11, Jesus learns that His very dear friend, Lazerus is ill and even dying. But He doesn't go to him. He then learns that he has died, and so He goes to see Lazerus' sisters. His sisters are so confused and angry in their grief that Jesus didn't come before it was too late to heal their brother.

As Jesus sees Mary weeping, He experiences, as a human man, the anger of grief and the sorrow and He, too, weeps. He then asks to be taken to the grave where Lazerus was buried. As He saw the grim reality of a tomb and thought of His own friend lying in there He wept again. And after He had wept, He raised Lazerus from the dead.

I never understood why He grieved, why He wept, when He knew that He was going to raise Lazerus from the dead. And, what I have come to believe is born out of my own experience and not necessarily the why. (I may ask Him when I get to heaven if I'm even close.) But I believe that in that moment, as He saw someone who He loved grieving that gut-wrenching grief that feels unbearable, that Jesus, the Son of God, felt as a human, but also as God- the overwhelming grief of every person on this earth who has or ever will grieve the loss of a loved one. He wasn't grieving the loss of Lazerus. He knew Lazerus was going to come back to life. He was empathizing with each one of us who knows that pain. He felt the pain, He understood it as a man and as a God who sees all our pain, and He grieved in empathy for Mary and for me and for you.

I experienced my God and my Savior in a new way on the day that that story made more sense to me. I experienced my God as empathetic in a tangible way for me.

There will never be an explanation that feels okay to my human mind for why sweet Nandinie died in October. Please don't tell me a reason why. It won't help. However, my God has proved Himself to me over and over and I can trust that He knows best and He knows why. I am at peace knowing that He knows. I can also see how He is using her death to bring glory to His name and to continue to grow me into a child who looks more like her Father. That doesn't answer why, but it does bring some beauty out of the ashes.

In spite of my grief, His love, His empathy, His comfort and peace, overwhelm my soul.