Harshin' my mellow

One thing I've been pondering lately is why I don't always obey God, aka "Do the right thing."

And when it comes down to it, in that moment, I believe my way is better or my way is the only way I know how to do.

The big thing right now is not yelling at my kids. I think there's a ton of insight in the Bible on why I should not yell at my kids. We'll start with the verse I work with my daughter on "Be kind, one to another, tenderhearted forgiving one another even as Christ has forgiven you." (Ephesians 4:32)

So I know that verse and many others, but I still regularly lose my temper with my kids. What's wrong with me?

In my devotional time this morning I read,

The fear of the Lord is pure, enduring forever.The ordinances of the Lord are sure and altogether righteous.They are more precious than gold, than much pure gold;they are sweeter than honey, than honey from the comb.By them is your servant warned; in keeping them there is great reward. 

~Psalm 19:9-11

When I first read this, I wanted to jump up and point it out to my daughter:
See! We're not harshin' your mellow. Obeying your parents as God has instructed you to do, that's gold, that's honey, that's reward. 

(Seriously, she bawls like we killed her fictional, pet kitten and served it to her for dinner. It's ridiculous)

But then, I realized this is ME. I think that God is harshin' MY mellow, that giving up my right to anger at my kids or at whomever will hurt me in someway. No, I've got to explode. I deserve to explode. Can't you see how bad he/she was to me?

But that's not true. And it's not a little bit untrue, it's completely untrue. Angry outbursts never solve my problem and any satisfaction I get from them are so fleeting and never worth the cost.

Keeping the laws of God: gold, honey, reward. Value, sweetness, true recompense.

God, help me to see how flimsy my "mellow" is, like dust in the mouth. Let me see your guidance as gold, honey, & reward.

Minor update

For the half dozen people who might still read what I write here:

I have spent every day of this new year with some combination of a migraine & vertigo. The docs think I should be better soon, and I hope they are right.

I have switched my medication -- from Celexa to Welbutrin, in case you want specifics. I had been on Celexa for the year leading up to this recent round of depression.

I have also gotten in touch with a new therapist whom I will see this upcoming Wednesday.

Clinging

Ever since my first experience rock climbing outdoors, the word cling conjures up an image of white-knuckled fingertips tensed on a thin rock ledge. And this image has become a metaphor for my spiritual clinging. I think of holding on to the solidness, the trustworthiness of God with the last bit of energy that I have. As spiritual metaphors go, it isn't terrible--although Jesus is on belay* is an important corollary.

Lately, my son has been teaching me a new image to go with cling. My son is a Cling-on**. He's a sweet, enthusiastic hugger, and when he's distressed he pastes himself to my shoulder.

As I've been processing my current pain, I've been thinking about this image of clinging. Two things come to mind: First, that my son's immediate reaction to pain is to look for me. Even though I can't do a thing about the pain receptors firing away in his brain, even though I can't make his blood clot, he wants to snuggle up on me. Second, as his mother, I am so pleased that he turns to me. I am so happy to have him rest on my shoulder. I can't fix anything, but I can be near.

This new image encourages me to focus less on how much energy I do or don't have to cling or when my energy is going to run out and I'm going to fall off the rock. Instead, I imagine that God is equally and more pleased that I would tuck up on his lap. I have very few answers, very little understanding of what is going on in my wreck of an emotional world. But the solid presence of God as my refuge is a beacon of hope in this period of darkness.

*The person on belay is the person holding the rope and catches you when you fall.

**That's a bad Star Trek pun. Klingons are an alien race in the Star Trek world.

Sink in

I am in the midst of another season of depression. This is the third time I've been aware of. It's not as bad as last time and certainly not as bad as the "first"* time.

One verse that has been illuminated for me has been from what's known as the Beatitudes in Jesus' Sermon on the Mount.

Blessed are those who mourn,
for they will be comforted
~The good news according to Matthew, chpt 4

This verse has always been a throw-away verse to me. Yea, yea, God promises comfort to those who mourn, how comforting.

As I experience this round of depression without a therapist or psychiatrist, I've been reflecting on my interior life. Like what the heck am I doing when I sit in my favorite chair, staring out the window, "petting my pain" like a black cat in my lap? I mean that's kind of weird.

Depression scares the crap out of me. I hate it. I hate how dark a space it is. I fear drowning in the pain. But in this blessing, the promise is conditioned on mourning. What I'm hearing is, "press into the pain and don't fear the sorrow because I, God, am there to be your comfort."

I don't know if I'm hearing this right, and I don't know if I can sink into the dark place trusting the comforting presence of God. But honestly, this is the most hopeful thing I've come across recently.

*I likely had bouts of depression before my "first" time but didn't know it. What I count as the first time was the first round that I needed and got help for.

Jesus for stupid people

Some times life is life, stress is stress and pain is pain.

There's always been a part of me that wants to logic things out, to know causes and their effects, to solve problems, to understand. Over the years and just right now, I'm learning that sometimes what people most need is a hug.

Jesus is for stupid people, for that woman at the well who had 5 husbands, for Thomas who wouldn't believe until he poked his fingers in Jesus' scars, for Peter who denied being Jesus' friend when the going got tough.

My daughter is in a difficult three-year-old phase where she says no to stuff that she likes and is good for her. And by saying no, I mean turns into a screaming banshee curled up on the floor. Where I want to run away and wait for it to blow over, I'm learning to stick by her until she's in a better place.

Sometimes people make financial or relationship decisions that I think are dumb, dumb, dumb. But who cares? I'm learning who cares that it's their own fault they are stressed and crying their guts out? Jesus is for stupid people. He's been for me when I've been tres stupido and I can be for these friends too.

Thank God Jesus is for stupid people. If Jesus only hung out with people who always had it together and always made the right decision, and never made the dumb choice, he'd be kickin' it out in space with the Father and Holy Ghost.

Here in the US, it's another election season and I think this is applicable. Hey, y'all, Jesus is for stupid people. You know, the folk on the other side, the folk who have earned your scorn. I don't know that this would change a vote, but this should change our hearts. We are one of the stupid, loved by God and thus compelled to love our stupid neighbors, the ones with that bumper sticker.

Jesus for 'special' people

My husband and I met at University Presbyterian Church just off the UCLA campus. It was a really different church from the ones I had grown up in. Being oriented to the college campus, most congregants were undergraduate or graduate students with a few people who stuck around after graduation and even fewer who had no affiliation with the university.  Having a Korean pastor, most of the congregation was also Asian; fresh-off-the-boat international students and US-born Asian-Americans. So picture a congregation between 18-35 years old, mostly Asian, with elite university-educated minds.

Nevertheless, what strikes me about my time there is what a motley crew of 'special' people we were. When I say 'special' I think I actually mean odd & needy. I arrived at the church in culture shock after having spent a year overseas; I had very little financial means; I was skeptical of the value of the formal church setting; and I'd had a really bad roommate experience while overseas. I was a mess. And as I think of all the friends at that church, I think about what a mess they were too. Individual, messy stories.

Our leaving LA coincided with our feeling that it was time to move on from that  church. So I'm not saying it was a perfect church. But a distinguishing feature of that community is loving messy people and loving messy people who are supposed to be ok. University elites are supposed to ok, to have succeeded in the past and to succeed on into the future. What I got to participate in for myself and with others was Jesus loving the little child in each of us; the child that we'd hidden away but was scared nonetheless, was hurt and confused.

Now that I've had some time away, I think how small my dissatisfactions were compared to the privilege of being with a pastor and church committed to loving 'special' people.

Crisis

Despite the title of this post, there are many parts of my life that I feel quite happy about. The family is more or less healthy for the first time in months. I've mostly come to peace about my mostly stay-at-home-mom, but partly research linguist life. My husband and I are about to celebrate our 6th anniversary on a fun date this weekend. I'm discipling a younger believer in the faith in a way I have not since college. I'm helping the church women's ministry with some big picture thinking which is totally my cup of tea.

Good stuff. Good stuff.

Nevertheless, I'm at a total crisis regarding two things: 1) the centrality of the "Great Commission" and 2) therefore, being at a church laser-focused on the Great Commission.

The "Great Commission" comes from the last chapter of the gospel of Matthew where Jesus commissions his disciples saying,

"All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age." ~The good news according to Matthew, chapter 28

 This is probably the central mission I've heard since I was eight when my parents moved us from a Chinese church to a large, mostly Anglo church. The front of that church said, "To know Him and to make Him known" and over the door on the way out it said, "Go Ye".

I am not repudiating either the truth that Jesus commissioned his disciples and by extension us/me to making disciples of all nations or my American evangelical heritage.

However, I question the primacy of the Great Commission over the Great Commandments:

‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ ~The good news according to Matthew, chapter 22

It is hand waving to collapse the Great Commandments into the Great Commission. Making, baptizing, and teaching disciples may be part of loving God and my neighbors but I don't accept that it is the whole of it. I know why the Great Commission is appealing to me; it has a "Christ's love compels" motivation and a to-do list. It's easy to see the Great Commission as a task to be accomplished.  And a good, just, moral task. And if I'm doing that I'm ok. People should like me. God should like me.

And that's the messed up part. That's where I worry I've lost the Great Commandments. Is love about to-do lists? It seems that way sometimes when I'm putting away laundry, but then again not when I'm cooking.

On that note, I'll say that cooking might be where the Great Commandments and Great Commission meet. When I cook for my family, friends, and neighbors, I feel like I'm loving God by living out who he made me to be, I'm loving the people around me by putting tasty goodness in front of them, and I'm making disciples as I teach my children to lovingly serve people.

By adding in the Great Commandments to my heart song, I've destabilized the place of the Great Commission which has been so central for so long, I feel like I don't know how to move forward. By adding the Great Commandments to my heart song, I worry that my church community which is so explicitly focused on the Great Commission won't have a place for me. I'm in a place of disorientation. Crisis.