But I’m not thinking about things like relationships.
I’m thinking about character.
Take for instance, complaining.
To complain, is to connect with others who also complain. There is camaraderie, there is mutual approval. You are at the same level. But what if you decide to stop complaining?
It’s hard. It’s very hard.
You have to lose something.
You have to lose the ability to connect and seem relevant in certain social situations. You have to lose the right to express your frustrations and feel important and righteous.
It’s a death. And it’s unpleasant.
I know. Cos I went through this.
It’s awful to hold complaining thoughts in your head and not allow them to see the light of day. To not allow their expression through your lips. The pressure builds and builds. And it takes will and determination to stop it. And it feels like death.
But on the other side of death is something surprising.
There is more freedom. More peace. More life.
To not complain, means to also let go of the thoughts of complaining. Because you don’t want that pressure building up in your head, so it’s best to just let it go.
So then you think differently. And you find yourself less burdened, happier and without the clutter that was there. It’s new and it’s a revelation.
It’s not with perfection. None of us attain that this side of eternity.
But it’s a breakthrough.
And the victory is inspiring.
What’s next? What else do I need to die to? What other opportunities for life are on the other side of a decision?
And the courage to face the death of luxury character flaws increases. And the hope of discovery becomes rejuvenating.
Such death becomes less fearsome, because one knows what is on the other side. So one can face bravely the awfulness of letting go. And trust what happens next.
…
I think of the seed that must be buried in the ground. From there it is able to shoot out new life and grow.
…
I think of Jesus, the son of God. Who willingly faced death on a cross, for the joy of obtaining salvation for the world. Death first, then life.
He even said, you have to lose your life to find it. And he wasn’t talking physical death. But death of your own concept of self. Laying down your own life, for the ways of God. The ways of God that don’t make sense to our worldly thinking. But which when activated bring life out of death.
A living, breathing reality. A reality marked by true freedom.
My parents bought me a black and white picture of a gymnast on a beam, with the caption,
“Do not pray for an easy life. Pray to be a strong person.”
I didn’t like the picture. It had no colour, or joy to it. And I didn’t like feeling pulled in by the caption. I knew I would succumb one day and pray that prayer.
And I did.
Several years later, I decided to memorise the book of James, a practical book of wisdom in the New Testament, from the Bible. I was drawn to its strong and unapologetic stance on things like caring for the poor, faith in action and taming the tongue.
So I started memorising the first chapter and then was struck by verses 2–4:
“Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.” James 1:2–4
Wow that was a kapow!
And because it was at the start of the five chapters, when memorising and revising, it got the most practice. So it got locked solid in my brain.
And I dissected it bit by bit in my own time. Understanding the words, one at a time.
I thought — do I want to be mature and complete? Yes please. Do I want to lack nothing? Yes again.
So what do I need to achieve that?
According to the verse — I need perseverance. But not only perseverance, I need to persevere with perseverance, so it can finish its work.
But how do I get this perseverance?
Well, it says that having my faith tested develops perseverance.
So I need lots of instances of my faith being tested. And that means trials of many kinds. Not just one, not just a few, but many. And all different!
And this is the revelation I got at the time.
Consider it pure joy.
I got it.
Trials could be viewed differently. Instead of being just pain and suffering, discomfort or disappointment. I could view them with actual joy.
Because they were achieving for me what I wanted. And what couldn’t be achieved any other way.
How else do you get perseverance, without persisting through something difficult? How else do you prove your faith, without facing something hard that many might give up in the face of?
That verse has encouraged me over and over again in my life.
As a teenager I didn’t have that many trials. Sure I had friendship issues at school, but I was raised in a safe, loving and godly home.
But now that I’m 47 years old, I can most definitely say I have been through a huge amount of trials, not the least of which has been nearly 10 years of chronic fatigue, while raising five children, two with special needs.
I need all the encouragement I can get in this season of life. I long to have energy and feel normal again. I feel so burnt out from caring from my special needs daughters, even with the support of my husband and multiple carers for the girls.
But even in the midst of the prolonged nature of this trial and the disappointment that I face within this, I am reminded of this verse. Consider it pure joy.
And when I’m reminded of this perspective, I am invigorated with great hope in the midst of great challenge. I can have a strong sense of purpose.
Not an easy life. But an adventure. And one that is building me in all the ways that I need.
So often I find myself trying to communicate, by searching for the right word.
I know what I want to say. But it is a knowing without words.
Language is just my tool to convey to another person the meaning that is in my heart.
And the language is inadequate.
I’ve heard peoples’ descriptions of heavens. And they all lament about the same thing. That their words don’t do justice to the glory that they have seen, the colours, the beauty, the incredible atmosphere.
This is true of so many things here on earth. How do you convey the depth of feeling that stirs up in your soul. How do you represent it digitally or on paper. It feels like a farce in some ways. A two-dimension version of something that is beyond even 3-D.
God gave me a language many years ago, when I was 16 years old. I was praying ‘in tongues’ in my bedroom — a Pentecostal practice that I had stepped into, while growing up in my ministry parents’ home. But this time was different — I started praying ‘in tongues’ with variations, inflections and intonation that sounded exactly like I was speaking a real language, instead of the usual monotonous drone that I used to utter.
Of course I had no idea in my mind what I was actually saying, but I’ll never forget how it was accompanied with a power and authority that was beyond my age and maturity. It was shocking to me in it’s boldness and difference to anything I had ever experienced. I didn’t want it to stop.
I prayed like this for quite some time. Knowing that it was accomplishing something significant, but having no idea in my human mind of the actual content. But the lack of awareness didn’t matter. My spirit was electrified. It felt like I was operating exactly how I was meant to, with God in me. The sense of rightness was without apology.
I am so grateful for this experience, that confirmed to me personally the validity of this God given gift. Without it I would have wondered at the monotony and powerlessness of so many ‘speaking in tongues’ prayers that I had heard over the years.
I often contemplate the brilliance of God in coming up with this ‘tongues’ strategy — a way for human beings to bypass the constraints of human language — and to communicate to the heart of God with words of heavenly origin. A fruit of the empowerment of his spirit.
This strategy is beyond my comprehension really. But I don’t need to understand everything about God. He wouldn’t be God if I could. I just trust and dive in with him.
Something else about God on this theme that I find fascinating… He often speaks to me in my heart. And I know what he has communicated. But I don’t have the words for it. I have to try to put it in words if I want to tell someone else. But my heart knows it.
I suspect and I have heard it will be like this in heaven. Language without words — just knowledge of what is in others’ hearts. It will be so much fuller and richer. And thankfully in that place there will be nothing we would need to hide.
So a 24/7 cat curfew has been spreading in Australia… And I’m a bit ticked off!
Our beloved household cats are immigrants. They invaded Australia several hundred years ago, coming with European settlers. Although dearly loved in countless households across Australia, they have become public enemy number one in many city councils. Some of them have committed the crime of annoying neighbours, killing local wildlife and getting lost. So many councils, in their great wisdom, have decided to impose a 24/7 cat curfew on all cats in the area.
These Councils are concerned about safety. And because safety trumps freedom in Australia, this means that discrimination against cat immigrants is OK.
Cats are not allowed to trespass on other people’s property. Thankfully many councils have realised that most cats still need to be outside, so in their wisdom, they are allowing cats in their own backyards. Such a great idea. We need to send a memo out to all the roaming cats to let them know. I’m sure they’ll be happy to oblige.
For all the cats that don’t speak English, the owners will need to be responsible for ensuring their cat doesn’t wander past the boundary lines. Thankfully there are options to assist with this. Zoo style enclosures are the answer for roaming cats. Good news for those zoo keepers or builders who are handy with this kind of thing. Good news for the rich too, who have spare money to pay someone to build it for them. And good news for the cats, who can enjoy the freedom of a beautifully designed enclosed outdoor prison, I mean space.
For the rest of the cat owners, they run the risk of large fines if their cat escapes outside and wanders. But that’s good news for councils of course, as it will bring in much needed revenue.
Some cat owners may decide to keep their cats inside from now on, as their cat doesn’t speak English and doesn’t understand the new rules. Those owners will have the joy of changing litter trays more frequently and yelling at their kids for leaving the door open and letting the cat escape yet again. That’s all good character development stuff that doesn’t hurt anyone. All for a good cause. And that cat meowing at the door can be entertained elsewhere inside. All cats love staying inside all day every day.
Safety is so very important. It always trumps freedom. Cats will be safe from now on. Safe from cars, fights and getting lost. Safety always enables happy and enriched lives.
On that note, humans should also be kept safe. Safe from hurting others and safe from hurting themselves. We should have 24 hour curfews too. It’s not safe for humans to leave their houses. Too many car accidents, work accidents, etc, etc. It’s much safer to be home.
I’m reminded of that saying — ‘the safest place for ships is in the harbour’. Yep, you bet it is!
Birds will now be safe of course. Safe from being attacked by cats. It’s very important to protect all creatures great and small. While we are at it, we should also look at protecting the safety of worms. There’s a lot of birds out there threatening their existence. Perhaps we need more zoo style enclosures for all the birds.
Such a safe society sounds just like the kind of society that everyone would love to live in.
In a safe society, cats can flourish and have maximum enjoyment of life. After all, why do they need to climb trees or go roaming. They don’t really enjoy that do they? That’s not part of a cat’s quality of life.
And if it was, it wouldn’t matter anyway, because cats don’t matter. Local wildlife and sensitive neighbours are much more important. Because they were here first. If cats want this unreasonable quality of life, they should pack up and go back to where they came from. After all, they are immigrants.
Cats don’t deserve to live outside anymore and climb trees and explore. Because cats aren’t native to Australia they are not a priority.
And so discrimination against immigrant cats is the answer, to achieve safety at the expense of freedom. An idea so brilliant, that councils across Victoria and other parts of Australia have begun embracing it one after the other and mandating it for all residents, whether they like it or not. It’s so good to live in Australia.
My kids do it well. My daughter Summer is 17 years old. She has a moderate intellectual disability, as well as being diagnosed with autism and epilepsy. Verbal communication is not her strong suit, but she loves to connect with people. She loves to have fun. And she loves to laugh.
She will sit with two adults having a conversation for long periods of time. And when they laugh she will laugh. With gusto. It’s hilarious. I don’t know whether she understands fully what the conversation is about, but she understands the laughter. And with that she joins in. And people love her for it.
My son Micah is 13 years old. He is often launching out with funny comments or questions, or playfully teasing my husband and I. I’m not always ready for it, but he is. He has a playful vibe of ease, that I know I need to lean into more. It’s good for me. It’s good for him.
Yesterday I was praying with two other women. And sharing how I was struggling with so much fatigue. Having been diagnosed with chronic fatigue, this is a recurrent theme and I’ve had all kinds of advice. But yesterday their encouragement was different — live more like a child — with joy, freedom and playfulness.
Then last night the theme continued. My Facebook livestream guest was interrupted by her young son near the end of the program, wanting to say goodnight. She shared how he had also come to her earlier, so determined and insistent for her attention. So much so that she got a revelation…
“That’s how it’s supposed to be with us and God… running to him, with all our want and insistence, just to be in his presence.”
I cherished that image when she brought it. That one-eyed wanting of his attention.
So I pondered all of this today…
Why is that we adults often don’t live with the joy and freedom of kids. At what point do we lose this and why?
I thought about our responsibilities and our subsequent seriousness. I wondered if we bear the weight of these and they burden us. Do we become fixated on what we must do — desperately trying not to drop the balls we are juggling in the air?
Perhaps also, we learn over and over again, through let down and disappointment, that other people can’t be fully trusted. And so we are tempted to be more self-reliant, trusting only ourselves.
Indeed, that let down is inevitable for all of us. People have different perspectives and expectations. And we can’t mind read or live to please others all the time. So disappointment, then self-protection eventuates.
And yet children haven’t learned any of this. They don’t carry this burden.
But what if the weight of adult responsibility is not meant to be entirely ours? What if we are not meant to put our trust in people?
What if we were created to put these weights on God?
Hmm that’s a thought…
But is that practical? How would that look?
What if we trusted God so implicitly as the good Father, that the weight of responsibility shifted. And we were just obedient children doing what needed to be done, but ultimately trusting God to provide, to direct, to protect, etc. A change of heart posture. Would that feel lighter?
And what if, instead of trusting people and being disappointed, or retreating into self-reliance, we put our trust in God. Living with the hope and faith, that he is our good Father, our provider and our shepherd. What would that heart posture do to our burden?
I sense many would baulk at this. Who puts their trust in the unknown? Who throws away reason to the wind?
But for those who know God, it is the most logical thing to do. The God who sees all, knows all, has ultimate wisdom, with unconditional love. There’s no smarter option. The God of the Universe who can be trusted, even if we don’t like what he says all the time. There’s freedom in surrender to him. Albeit that the process of surrender can be painful.
Surrender. The door to breakthrough.
Think about it.
So much anxiety we live with. It’s not meant to be. We weren’t made to carry that weight.
…
God help me be more childlike and trust in you. To not carry the burden of responsibility that is not mine to bear. I want to live with that lighter step, to enjoy the freedom of playfulness in the midst of adulting. I need your help to go through that door.
My dad was the first one who planted the seed. I remember when I was about 15 years old, being in the car with my brother while my dad was driving. A guy rudely cut my dad off and I had a moment of glee — this was the perfect justified moment to beep the horn. Dad had been offended and it was his time to let the guy know! I waited. My brother waited. We waited some more. And there was no beep. With great disappointment and indignation, we protested to my dad, “why didn’t you beep at that guy?”
I never forgot his answer — “you never know what that man’s morning was like — maybe he had an argument with his wife and is stressed, maybe he has cancer and is on his way to a medical appointment — I wouldn’t want to make his day any worse by beeping.”
OK. So we were silenced. What could we say in the face of that compassion and possible reality. And even if he was wrong, how could we actually know either way. Was he rude, was he not coping? We didn’t know. And that was my first lesson in judging. We don’t know all the facts.
In true parrot fashion, I re-enacted this lesson many years later with someone else in the car. We had passed a house with a horribly overgrown lawn and the person next to me was commenting how lazy the house owner was. I immediately looked for other compassionate scenarios, suggesting that perhaps the owner was disabled or sick and couldn’t mow the lawn, and/or was financially challenged and unable to afford to pay someone to do it. It felt good having this response.
So I started to practice this style of compassion more and more. I did not become an overnight convert. I still struggled with judgement. But in the process of trying, I began to discover important differences in the two types of responses.
I observed that judgmental thinking came with a sense of pride and superiority. This had a certain appeal, an enjoyable boost of ego, but in a dark festering way. And I observed that kind and generous thinking had real joy on the other side, leaving one feeling free and unburdened. I knew which one I preferred.
Years later, I was standing in front of my bathroom mirror. I felt exhausted. I was struggling with looking after five kids, two with special needs, one of whom had significant behavioural challenges. I couldn’t change my daughter’s disability, so I was desperately trying to create peace and rest in the places I could. I felt like I was doing everything I could — managing sleep, regular daytime rest, sunshine, good eating, etc. So I cried out to God, “What else can I do to reduce stress?” Straight away I heard the words in my heart, “Stop judging!”
I was taken aback. I considered myself to be a pretty non-judgmental person. I was practicing what I described above on a regular basis. That was now my default way of talking.
But was it my default way of thinking?
I realised that I still thought about the people in my world in ways that were judgmental. Had they offended me? Had they neglected me? My thoughts were all cased in judgment — they were insensitive, uncaring, not measuring up to my standards. I was judgemental!
I decided then and there to try to stop those thoughts. So when they came, as soon as I recognised them I would choose to end the trail. Think of something else. Just stop! It was not easy, but it was possible, as long as I remembered. And the more I practiced, the easier it got. And here’s the thing, I got more peace!
I reflected, there’s a lot of noise made from internal judgment. It’s busy and unhelpful. So it was good advice from God, to let it go.
And so yes I had more peace. But as with everything, there were more layers with this thing. You learn one lesson and you think you’ve learned it. Then you find there’s more to learn.
Fast forward to the present. And I find myself in a daily living situation, where I feel judged frequently. And by now judgement really grates on me, as I know how destructive it is. But there’s a trap. And the trap for me is to feel self-righteous. And then I got another revelation…
“With the measure you use, it will be measured to you”…
Those words from the Bible stuck in my brain. And it occurred to me that if I was feeling judged by this other person, then perhaps that was because I was judging them. Perhaps if I wasn’t judging, I would be free from feeling judged. Of course, my mindset can’t control another, but it can impact my inner suffering or peace.
I reflected on the words, with the measure you use it will be measured to you. I had always thought this referred to the end of time. The time when God judges the world. And then if you judged others harshly on earth, you get judged harshly by God.
But what if it was actually referring to the ‘here and now’. What if it referred to our inner suffering or peace. Perhaps if we judge others harshly, we perceive others as doing the same to us and we suffer for it. And perhaps if we don’t judge others, we don’t perceive others judging us. And so we don’t suffer. We have peace.
It was an interesting thought. And I have enjoyed it.
And I am still contemplating it.
At the end of the day, I always come back to the thought — God’s ways are brilliant. And he knows what he’s talking about!
Oh the peace that is available. And yet we do not often recognise it is so.
“Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you. “Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.” Matthew 7:1–5, NIV
