Taking Offense?

Who does she think she is? The thought woke up ugly in my mind. Quickly. I watched with disdain as a lady maneuvered her way around people in a very long line to cut in front of everyone to grab a package of rationed toilet paper. The Costco employees were at a loss as they were rationing out one package to everyone in line as quickly as possible.  Just as sneakily as she moved up the line, she was gone. Life moved on. But I was left with that ugly feeling stewing inside.

That wasn’t right. Isn’t someone going to say something? Should I say something? Why do people do that? Are people really that selfish? Humanity is crap. I hope she gets what she deserves. I’m glad I don’t think and act like that.

The thoughts churn hot. The righteous anger, the need for just resolution sits heavy in the back of my throat and the pit of my stomach. My mind is grinding. My own pride is beginning to show its backside. This is going nowhere good, fast.

So I stop. Off to the side, out of the way, I take a moment to forgive that lady for her selfishness, for offending me by cutting in front of me. I ask for forgiveness for my own pride. I talk to Jesus for a few seconds and hand the situation—that has come and gone, mind you—to Him. Releasing it to Him for Him to deal with.

It’s in those few seconds—it took seconds, not minutes—the Holy Spirit swept in with peace and grace. Cooling peace to put out the burning thoughts. Compassionate grace to give me His perspective on the situation.

What if she didn’t know there was a line?

What if she needed that toilet paper in a desperate way I don’t understand?

What if she’s a foreigner and doesn’t understand culturally what is happening around her?

What if she needed this win, this score more than anyone else today because securing that toilet paper is the best thing that will happen in her life today?

These are thoughts of grace. These are thoughts of compassion. They don’t excuse her behavior, but they add a perspective I hadn’t considered. They don’t come from me because I’ve already revealed my default response. These thoughts came as a relief in response to forgiveness. Forgiving myself and forgiving the offender. I’ve come to believe both are necessary to experience restorative peace and resolution. (Matthew 6:14-15, Romans 8:1, Ephesians 4:31-32, Colossians 3:13)

It’s these small experiences in life that separate knowing how to be a Christian from actually being a Christian, a living reflection of acting on truth by obeying (Jesus says to forgive) and receiving the rewards of obedience (peace and grace/ Psalm 119:165).

There are days when I would have let my first reactions run rampant for the rest of my shopping trip. Then allowed the crazy thought train to continue in the car on the way home. I’d unload my frustration and negative experience onto the first person I saw or who called. I’d let the roots of my offense begin to negatively effect my conversations and attitudes for the remainder of the day. And this was a small offense!

The bigger the offense the longer and wider the roots spread into your life. The weed of offense can only be uprooted with forgiveness. I’m tired of being offended all the time by everything. It’s exhausting. I don’t want to hold onto grudges because if worry is carrying the weight of tomorrow, holding a grudge is carrying the weight of yesterday. Lord knows, I’m only strong enough today to carry the weight of today. (Matthew 6:34)

Letting go isn’t easy. Every time I forgive an offense and offender, I’m choosing to release presumed rights. People love their rights, especially Americans. Yet, as a Christian, when I choose to follow Jesus, I choose to let Him assume the responsibility for my sins and the sins committed against me. He covers them all. He is both my Father and my King.  I am both His beloved daughter and loyal subject. I can trust Him to have my back, to be my Avenger, to make the best choice for me and the other person involved. I can trust Him with all my emotions and feelings and ugliness and need for justice. I can trust Him to do what’s best for my heart and mind. Even if, no, especially if I don’t agree with the outcome or lack of outcome from His decisions. That’s the hardest trust to learn of all. (Psalm 37:4-6)

I still struggle with forgiveness. I struggle to ask for it, and I struggle to extend it. But love keeps no record of wrongs, against me or against others (1 Corinthians 13:5). If stopping for a few seconds to the side in Costco to forgive an unknowing offender helps strengthen my forgiveness muscle, then I pray God keeps making me aware of all the little offenses. I need the practice, so I’ll be ready for the big ones.

Grateful to be His,

Jennifer

Where I Am: A Covid-19 Reflection

Saturday I was supposed to fly to Kenya. On mission trip. With my husband. Just us, serving together. It was going to be my first time on the African continent. There was going to be a safari and wild animals involved at some point. Even more exciting to me, I was going to get to hug the neck of a missionary friend we’ve supported from afar for almost twenty years. It was going to be the best way I could spend my fortieth birthday. The best representation of how I want my life to be remembered and known—serving others, loving like Jesus, always on an adventure, and of course some animal love.

Enter COVID-19.

It canceled Kenya, a camping trip, most likely my backpacking trip with my sister to Zion National Park, probably even my mom’s visit, and maybe more. This was my last year with some of the senior girls I’ve been in small group with since they were freshmen. While my heart aches for my own disappointments, it aches doubly for the disappointments they are experiencing. It aches for all the families whose paychecks will be directly affected by this quarantine.

And I sit at home with my family and have nothing better to do but sit and ponder and think and whine. Oh, poor me. Oh, poor us. The pity party can be real.

I watch people who are still refusing to social distance. Part of me gets angry. Why should they still get to hang with their friends? Part of me gets scared—the longer people wait to social distance, the longer this thing goes on. I waffle between self-righteous justice and sulking defeat. You can’t make people do what they don’t want to do. Heck, even if it came down to a military state, I swear the surfers would still find a way to surf.

We are all innately selfish and driven toward our own self-satisfaction and self-preservation. Considering the “greater good” does not come naturally. It’s why we hoard toilet paper because what if I need it? Forget everyone else. Sometimes we’re also judgmental and self-righteous, believing our way and our words are a better source of direction and light to a less enlightened world.  Hence the public shaming and calling out over social media. The pride at the root of either end of the spectrum makes my skin crawl.

Sitting at home with all these thoughts, I am forced to face the depravity and selfishness of my own mind and heart. I’m forced to consider the fact that part of me wants to give the middle finger to the government and the virus and board an airplane to anywhere out of pure rebellion. There are no distractions right now to keep me from facing that ugly, rebellious heart in the mirror of my mind. My thoughts cannot be drowned by my schedule currently, and I’m not sure I like what’s underneath. Sin. Ugly, prideful, selfish sin. Sometimes in my polished Christian world, I can forget that I’m included in the “all” of Romans 3:23. Full of sin and fallen short.

Enter Jesus. Like a breath of fresh air (Ezekiel 37:5), honey sweet to the taste (Psalm 119:103), He is transformative truth.

Because He reminds me ever so softly to look around and appreciate (Hebrews 12:28). To open disillusioned eyes to what I do have instead of what I don’t (Colossians 4:2). This is hard. Way harder than wallowing and throwing a pity party.

I started to list my blessings. Each of us have things we can be grateful for. Each of us have our own unique set of circumstances where we can find the silver linings that mean something to us, if not to everyone. Like, I can sleep in. Not everyone enjoys sleeping in as much as I do, but I really do. It’s a silver lining for me. Some of my California friends may be enjoying the sound of the rain on the rooftop, a rare sound in this part of the country. Others may be relishing the gift of unscheduled time because their life is always over-scheduled. We can all find silver linings.

It’s these small, miniscule blessings that can get lost in the noise of everyday life. Like the whisper of God Himself to Elijah (1 Kings 19:12-13), life can drown out my Best Friend’s voice. The busyness can distract from the callings my Jesus has given me. The constant need to entertain or perform can drown creativity and innovation. Now, quite unexpectedly, we’ve all been given a reason to throw all our excuses out the window. Lack of time is no longer an excuse. Being too busy is no longer an excuse. I dare say, even being too tired is no longer an excuse for some.

God, in His infinite wisdom, has created a space in time where our excuses don’t hold up anymore. If you’re like me, you might be forced to face the truth that there are things in life you just don’t want to do. There are responsibilities you know you have; you don’t want to admit you’ve been pushing to the back burner of life for all the previously listed excuses. That currently don’t exist.

God has created a space where we can be gently confronted with ourselves and make a choice to change, to create new habits, to prioritize what really matters. Then, He’s given us the time to make it happen.

That conversation you’ve been meaning to have with someone, have it.

That phone call you’ve been meaning to make, make it.

That text message you keep forgetting to send, send it.

That talk with your kids? your spouse? Make it happen.

That thing you’ve always wanted to teach yourself or your kids, do that.

Write. Read. Sing. Talk. Listen. Play. These are all ways we’ve forgotten how to connect because of being too busy, too tired, or not having enough time.

Today I laid on my couch and wallowed in my disappointment, in the loss of all the things I was looking forward to. I drowned my thoughts in meaningless television shows, watching my kids do the same on their own devices. I didn’t want to eat. Wasn’t tired enough to actually sleep until I got depressed enough to nap for an hour. It was miserable, friends. 

The point? It takes work and effort to find ways to connect with others in meaningful ways. Even in my own home. Maybe especially in my own home. But we were designed by God for relationship and for work. He knew it was good for our souls from the very beginning (Genesis 2:15, 18). So, I’m going to go make myself a daily schedule, and Lord-willing, I’ll keep it. But it won’t be easy because my couch and television and cozy blankets are right there. It will be worth it because I will be a good steward of the gift of time the Lord has given during this season.

This is not how I wanted to spend the week of my fortieth birthday. This is not how I want to remember this benchmark year of life. But the hard truth is, I’ve been given an opportunity to write my own script to how the days ahead will play out in my home. An adventure my kids will remember being a part of instead of looking back on it in pictures. I want my family to look back on this time and remember it the way I wanted for Kenya—we served others, loved Jesus, made each day an adventure, and loved on some animals 😂 (We do have two dogs and two guinea pigs in this house.)

I don’t know how long this quarantine will last, but I know my callings in life haven’t changed. My sphere of influence may shrink, but that doesn’t matter because I’m only ever living for an audience of One anyway.

“Thank you, Jesus, for helping me process through to a perspective shift for today. I know more hard days are ahead, but I trust Your plan. Tomorrow will be a better day because Your truth makes the difference. May my hands not be idle, and my work continue to reflect You in me. May I never doubt the importance of Your mantle as my family watches. Thank you for being gentle with my disappointed heart. Your gracious understanding is more than I deserve. Amen.”

Grateful to be His, Jennifer

Be Gentle With Yourself

Criticism is my silent assassin. I think it always has been. I’m pretty sure I was born this way. The perfectionist in me sees every flaw, points out every mistake, dissects every conversation, email, and text for proper form, tone, and effectiveness. Believe me, if anyone knows how they’ve failed daily, I do.

The problem is criticism sits precariously balanced between correction and condemnation. Lean toward correction, and you can accept and adjust. Lean toward condemnation, and you spiral into the abyss.

It was from the depths of the abyss, during one of my darkest seasons, a dear friend looked across the table from me and in compassionate softness said, "It's ok. Right now, you need to be gentle with yourself."

Gentle with myself.

It was like hearing a sentence in a different language. I can motivate, push, applaud, diagnose, correct, and praise myself. But gentleness? Gentleness is not a virtue I’ve valued much. It's definitely a growth area. Growth of any kind is usually both painful and personal, taking place where no one sees what is happening on the inside.

What would it look like to be gentle myself?

Gentleness is a fruit of the Spirit, so it does not come naturally to the flesh. (Galatians 5:22-23) There's a softness, tenderness, a touch of finesse associated with the word. Pictures like the nurturing mother, Snow White singing to the animals, and baby lambs come to mind. Yet Christ is also gentle, and none of those word pictures describe Him in whole.

When I think of Jesus, His gentleness looks more like my daddy's calloused, hard-working hands being careful not to hurt me. I think of Jesus taking the hand of the dead girl, rubbing mud on a blind man’s eyes, speaking a storm into peace. Jesus is power finessed. Jesus showed gentleness by willfully humbling His power, putting it into submission for a greater purpose often out of loving consideration for another.

Enter the wisdom of, "Be gentle with yourself."

My mind, my will, and my emotions are POWERFUL gifts when submitted to Christ in loving consideration of His commands. They are powerful weapons against me when under the control of my flesh. They are powerful weapons for me when under control of the Spirit. Since gentleness is a witness of the Holy Spirit’s presence in my life, to be gentle with myself must be the outcome of Spirit work. My power must be funneled through Christ, to allow Him to wield my mind, my will, and my emotions how He deems worthy, producing good fruit.

To be gentle with myself looks like grace in action.

It looks like acknowledging the hard things in life when they come, giving them space to breathe and be what they are. Hard. (Ecclesiastes 3:4) When today is hard—grief comes for a visit, disappointment shows up on your doorstep, hurt stings—give it a moment. Don’t push it away, disregard or minimize its presence. See it. Feel it. Feel all the emotions as they come and reject all condemnation that may follow. (Romans 8:1) I am only human. My emotions are not sins until I begin to treat them like they are—hiding them, stuffing them, allowing them to take control. I must take a moment to notice them and hand them to Jesus. I can’t move forward until I do.

Being gentle looks like removing any expectations of all the "shoulds" in my life, accepting what today is. (2 Peter 1:3, Psalm 118:24) I should be exercising. I should be doing laundry. I should have called my friend. The list in my head can be never ending. I need to stop and recognize. God gave me today. He’s already provided me with everything I need to live and accomplish His will today. When I ask Him what I need to be doing, all I really must do is that.

Gentleness with myself is remembering that God sees me right where I am, for who I am, and He loves me unconditionally. Right here. Right now. (Ephesians 3:17-19, Psalm 139) I have nothing to prove to anyone else. It’s my choice to believe truth and rest in it. Taking captive any thoughts that say different and releasing them to Jesus because He's the judge and jury, not me. (2 Corinthians 10:5)

You cannot pour into others something you do not already possess. If I wish for gentleness to be a marker of my life, a virtue others can experience, a fruit the world can taste, I must first learn to be gentle with myself. Practicing gentleness inwardly will allow others to experience it outwardly.

Some of us beat ourselves up too much. Some are utterly clueless, not self-aware at all. The gavel of conviction seems to be but a bothersome mosquito bite. But some need to place the gavel we constantly carry for ourselves back into the nail-scarred hands of our Heavenly Father. The result of His wounds was a healing grace only He can administer, a salve for our burning souls. Let Him decide when the gavel is necessary, and in the meantime, be gentle with yourself as He is gentle with you.

In my hardest of times and darkest of days, I needed those tender words from a friend giving me permission to be gentle with myself (almost as if God Himself was using her to whisper those words to me) because God was being gentle with me, and I needed to allow Him to do His work.

Where is God gently working in your life? Do you pick up the inner critic hammer to try and fix yourself instead of submitting to the hands of your Maker? Jesus has been far gentler and kinder to me in His unfailing strength and presence than I have ever been to myself. If you find yourself in a hard season, and the voice inside your head is always harsh, hateful, critical, and demanding, please, please, hear my Jesus whispering, "It's ok. Right now, you just need to be gentle with yourself."