Greasemonkey Angels and the Throne of Grace

"For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin.  Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need."   ~ Hebrews 4:15-16

For the most part, all I've ever really required in a car is that it routinely get me safely from "Point A" to "Point B."  (OK, I'll admit that I'm at least a tiny little bit vain, so when shopping for a car, I confess to caring about color and other aesthetics . . . and air conditioning is nice . . . but I digress.)  The point is, so long as my car gets me to my destination and back, many of the basic maintenance needs of my car (other than putting gas into it) can be all too easily forgotten - until some dire situation screams out for my attention.  And that brings me to my story.

About half-way through my 3-mile drive home from work one day, my car started making a strange noise.  Now, being 16 years old, my car makes plenty of strange and somewhat disconcerting noises, but this sputter was different, and while idling at a stop light, the sputter suddenly turned to silence.  My car had stalled in the middle of commute traffic!  Desperately, I reached for the hazard lights while frantically putting the car into park and trying to restart it. Gratefully, my restart attempt was successful and I was able to get home, but as I drove I noticed that my car was running REALLY hot!  Appealing to my eternal optimism and hoping that a simple fix would be possible, I popped the hood as soon as I got home and, as I'd suspected, found the coolant overflow tank to be pretty well empty.  

Having given the engine some time to cool off, in the morning I again popped the hood, poured coolant into the thirsty radiator, and started up the car.  Gratefully, that hideous sound had gone away, and my car didn't seem to be leaking coolant, so I headed out, keeping an eagle eye on the temperature gauge, in desperate hope I'd make it to work without incident.  Thankfully, I did, but noticed that my car continued to run hotter than usual.  Still hopeful that a "fix" would be, at most, only a few hundred dollars away, I took my car to a local shop that, among a few other limited services, worked on cooling systems.  Alas, when the call came from the shop, the news was not good: a blown head gasket, they told me, and they did not do that kind of work, so I'd have to take it somewhere else.  *sigh*

Not to be defeated in my optimism, I ran a Google search for frame of reference on cost, only to discover that, due to the extensive labor required for a fix, I could reasonably expect a repair bill in the neighborhood of $2000!  Now I'd been saving, but wasn't quite in the position to afford a new car, and yet the thought of a repair bill quadruple the value of my car wasn't making sense to me, either.  So, unsure of what to do, I shot up a quick prayer, overtly asking for a miracle, and made a call to my Harley-riding, car tinkering brothers for advice.  

Upon hearing my story, my brothers gathered up their tools and made the 20-mile trek to come on over to check things out.  After a while of poking around under the hood, my eldest brother, a certified auto mechanic, pronounced the miracle I'd been praying for - my problem was not a blown head gasket, as I'd been told - it was a bad fan relay (basically an over-priced fuse, he explained to me), and after a trip to an auto-parts store (and some well deserved, gentle chiding about how paying more regular attention to the needs of my car was important to keeping it running reliably), my brothers had my car all fixed up . . . well, at least the cooling issue.

Disaster averted, I offered a sigh of thanks to God for His provision, recognizing that quite above and beyond what I'd even asked for, these two messengers of God's mercy had brought more to me than news of answered prayer and a lesson on the importance of faithfulness in car maintenance.  For although it could be easily argued that my own irresponsibility and neglect were the root causes of the pickle I'd found myself in, neither of them had delivered even a word of blame or shame - nor did they arrogantly pontificate about what I could have done (or SHOULD have done) to avoid the problem and then leave me to solve it on my own (as we humans so often do to one another).  On the contrary, in my moment of desperation, I was offered mercy, hope and help by two greasemonkey angels graciously willing to interrupt their own lives and get their hands dirty in response to my need - because they love me.

How very like the God who sent them - the One who loves me more than anyone else.  And how sweet a reflection of the grace I meet when I accept His invitation to bring my troubles boldly before His throne of grace - even troubles of my own making . . . which is a good thing, because I can think of a few OTHER things I've been neglecting, and I'm pretty sure I'm going to need a little of His wisdom and help to get me back on track.

When Victory Doesn't Come

“I have heard many things like these; you are miserable comforters, all of you! Will your long-winded speeches never end?  What ails you that you keep on arguing?  I also could speak like you, if you were in my place; I could make fine speeches against you and shake my head at you.  But my mouth would encourage you; comfort from my lips would bring you relief."       ~Job 16:2-5

"How did I get here . . . again!?" "I've been through this before - why is it still so hard!?" "Why can't I seem to learn whatever lesson I'm supposed to learn from this so I won't have to go through this any more!?" "Why doesn't God answer my prayer and take this away?" 

Have you ever found yourself in the midst of a trying circumstance wrestling with any (or all) of these questions?

Yeah.  Me too.

When I'm in pain or feeling frustrated, first I want empathy - compassionate acknowledgement from another human being that what I'm going through is hard; and then I want a way out - a tried and true solution that I can control; some ethereal truth I can apply to conquer my circumstance so that I, in all of my insight and wisdom, can rise above my troubles in victory, and be done with them!  (Don't we all!?)  

But that kind of victory doesn't always come as easily as I'd like (and sometimes not at all), leaving me to wonder if there may be times when these questions and this search for a solution may be too narrowly focused.  Perhaps, contrary to what our dauntless, self-reliant minds like to believe, not all struggles we (or others) face are simply problems to be solved.  And while there are undoubtedly many circumstances in which "lessons learned" can definitely make life easier, perhaps achieving an easier life isn't always wisdom's highest aim.

In one of his letters to the church in Corinth, Paul (arguably one of the most insightful and faith-filled men in the Bible) makes reference to a struggle he was having with what he described as a "thorn in the flesh."  While he doesn't make it clear exactly what his source of frustration was, he does make it clear that the struggle was ongoing, and that, wise, devout, and faith-filled as he was, even fervent prayer wasn't making it go away:  "Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me."   (2 Corinthians 12:8)

And evidently, God's answer didn't seem to be, "When you've finally learned your lesson, this will stop happening."  Nope. According to Paul, God told him, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness."  (2 Corinthians 12:9)  So pretty much, God said, "While I do promise to be with you, and offer you grace to bear up under this difficulty, you're just going to have to learn to live with this one."  (my paraphrase)

Yikes!  That's not the answer I'd want to hear!  

Based on Paul's multiple requests, I'm pretty sure it wasn't what he wanted to hear, either, and as if to add insult to injury, his conclusion as to the purpose of the ongoing struggle he was facing doesn't sound very complimentary:  "Therefore, in order to keep me from becoming conceited, I was given a thorn in my flesh . . ." (2 Corinthians 12:7)

Ouch!

Gratefully - for him and for us - Paul was able to get past his initial disappointment to recognize that sometimes God's purpose in allowing us to struggle is bigger than simply teaching us a lesson so that we can climb ever higher on the scale of wisdom and success in avoiding negative life consequences. Paul's calling encompassed being an effective teacher and comforter of others in the midst of their own struggles, and as he looked to God for wisdom, Paul was enabled to see that the arrogance that inevitably comes with forgetting what it's like to struggle would get in the way of his ability to live out his purpose (and can make a person a real jerk).  

Like it or not, you and I both know it's true.

I mean, we've ALL had experiences when we've gone to someone for empathy and comfort in the midst of a struggle and have been met with pat answers and "common sense" maxims offered from a "one up" position, supposedly earned by experience.  And it's pretty undeniable that, even in cases where there may be a grain (or more) of truth in the admonition, a less-than-sympathetic delivery (or worse, a smug superior one) renders the message ineffectual, because it's really hard to receive truth from someone who seems out of touch with the difficulty of what we're going through (especially from those who can't seem to own that they struggle at all).

And I don't know about you, but being an arrogant and ineffectual "miserable comforter" is not who I want to be, either.

So, with this in mind, when met with a personal struggle that doesn't seem to be going away no matter how much "wisdom" or "prayer" I throw at it, I pray that God will give me the presence of mind and insight He gave to Paul, so that I may be enabled to humbly join him in saying, "Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.  That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong."  (2 Corinthians 12:9-10)

And when others come to me for support in the midst of a frustration or struggle they're going through, I pray that God will give me grace to listen with compassion and to encourage with humility, remembering full well that I'm not above struggling with stuff, either.

(And if I don't - please feel free to remind me!  I need that, sometimes.)

God on the Dance Floor

"Trust in the LORD with all your heart and do not lean on your own understanding.  In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight."  ~ Proverbs 3:5-6

While growing up, my experience with dancing was primarily vicarious.  Watching television shows like "Flashdance," and movies like "Footloose," and "Dirty Dancing," were about as close as I got to the dance floor for most of my teen years.  By my mid-twenties, my vast years of inexperience, and a few less-than-successful attempts at line dancing had convinced me that not only did I not know how to dance, but I was also incapable of learning.

Gratefully, in my late twenties, after a LOT of prodding from a friend who wouldn't take "no" for an answer, I was introduced to the world of ballroom dancing.  And with the benefit of methodical and gentle teaching (and good partners), I was pleased to discover that, not only was I capable of learning to dance, but I reveled in this new-found passion - the glory of music in motion!

As a newbie, I found it helpful, in general, to dance with more experienced dancers.  I also found, though, that experience alone did not make someone a good dance partner.  Some experienced dance partners were impatient and ungracious, becoming easily irritated and tending to blame me when I missed a cue, or resorting to strong-arming me into compliance when I did not perfectly follow a lead.  Others were a bit nicer, but finally just gave up on me.

Gratefully, I found a few who were gracious and skilled in their leadership - and willing to put up with my inexperience.  These men took on the responsibility to offer a more defined lead when I missed a cue, and embraced the perspective that a big part of what made a man a good leader was his ability adjust his lead to accommodate the ability and experience of the follower.  One such partner was a man named Joe.  Joe had a couple of years of experience, and was willing to practice new steps with me.  Dancing with Joe was fun, and in my time dancing with Joe, I learned a lot about dancing and, rather surprisingly, a lot about God - which was ironic, because Joe was not a particularly religious man.  As a matter of fact, Joe never said a word about God; but through dancing with Joe, I encountered God on the dance floor - not once, but twice.

The first time, I was thinking about how grateful I was that Joe was so patient with me, and willing to hang in there with me in spite of the times I fumbled in my steps - even at times when it took several times of doing the same thing over and over again before I finally got it right!  In that moment of reflection, it was as though God broke into my consciousness and spoke directly to me, saying, "Judy, do you really believe I'm any less gracious in the way I lead you through life than Joe is in the way he leads you through a dance?"  

These words startled me, consciously bringing to the surface some pretty deeply held fears, based in some early formative experiences I'd had with authority figures while growing up.  And although everything I'd been taught told me that God was loving and patient, when confronted, I could no longer hide from the fact that I really did fear that God was more like those other dance partners - impatient and ungracious, becoming easily irritated and tending to blame me when I missed a cue, or resorting to strong-arming me into compliance when I did not perfectly follow His lead.  Gratefully, instead of shame and condemnation, God's gentle and loving confrontation brought comfort, and in stunned silence, eyes brimming with tears, those long held fears lost their grip on my heart.

The second time I encountered God on the dance floor was when Joe said he wanted to try to lead me through some new steps he'd learned in a class.  Not wanting to be a screw-up, I concentrated intently on every nuance of Joe's movement and did my best to read his cues and second-guess exactly what I thought he wanted me to do . . . and it was kind of a disaster.  Being the gracious man he was, instead of berating me, Joe simply said, "Let's try that again, and this time I want you not to try so hard.  Just relax and follow.  I don't expect you to know how to do something you've never done before.  Don't try to anticipate what you think I'll want you to do next, because when you anticipate, you end up doing something weird.  Just relax and follow, and things should turn out just fine."  And so I did.  And he was right.  And God said, "Ditto."

Yep.  In dancing with Joe, God met me on the dance floor, and through those moments, God taught me more powerfully and effectively about the graciousness of His leadership than through the best sermon I've ever heard on the topic, before or since. 

Soul Filling Relationship

"We loved you so much that we were delighted to share with you not only the gospel of God but our lives as well, because you had become so dear to us."   ~1 Thessalonians 2:8

I used to love to watch the show "Friends".  (Who am I kidding, I still do!)  The draw for me wasn't so much the laughter - although I do love to laugh!  But the imagery of friends living in close proximity to one another, sharing day-to-day life - that's what drew me in.  On the show, life for the characters wasn't always peachy, but the consolation of a good friend was never far away.

Given the popularity of Friends (and the plethora of similar shows), it's a bit of a mystery to me that we live such socially scattered lives.  That's not to say that most of us don't  have a LOT of people in our lives.  (Especially if you count our "friends" on Facebook!)  But not all relationships are created equal.  Some are "all business".  Some are primarily focused on activity and just having fun.  But it's the, up-close-and-personal relationships, with people who take the time to share our inner lives, that are sources of emotional nourishment and energy.  These are the kind of relationships we deeply long to experience - because it is this kind of relationship for which we were made.  

To live in consistent, day-to-day, soul filling relationship - with people who know what I had for dinner (because they were there, not because they read it on Facebook!) - has been the cry of my heart for as long as I can remember.  I long for relationship with people who will make spending time with me a priority.  People who will laugh with me and weep with me.  People who appreciate my strengths, and are patient with my weaknesses.  People who listen intently when I talk about things that matter to me.  People who are honest with me when they're hurt or upset by my actions (or inaction), but who choose to believe the best about my heart and intentions, and are willing to forgive.  And, because relationships are at their most deeply satisfying when they are reciprocal, I long to live in relationship with people who will allow me to do the same for them.

But relationships don't always turn out that way.  People are sometimes too busy to spend time with me.  People sometimes roll their eyes at my jokes.  People sometimes distance themselves from me when I cry, because it makes them uncomfortable.  People sometimes minimize the value of my strengths, and focus on their frustrations with my weaknesses.  People are sometimes apathetic about things that matter to me.  And people sometimes respond in anger when they're hurt or upset by my actions - or silently withdraw, leaving me to wonder what happened, offering no opportunity for restoration of relationship.  And that can really hurt - especially when it's someone I really care about.

In spite of these painful experiences, and the busyness of life, I refuse to give up on people and my desire to cultivate day-to-day, soul filling relationships, because I believe my desire for relationship is God given - and one of the ways I reflect the image of my Heavenly Father.  After all, as I understand it, the very reason He created us is because He also longs to live in relationship with people who will take the time to draw close to Him.  And, because relationships are at their most deeply satisfying when they are reciprocal, He reaches out to offer us the same.  But His relationship with us doesn't always turn out that way.  And by "us" I mean "me".

Far too often, I somehow expect God to be satisfied with far less than what would satisfy me.  I get "busy" with other things and don't make spending time with Him a priority.  I neglect the things that bring Him joy and I turn my eye away from the things that make Him weep, because they make me uncomfortable.  I grossly under-value the ridiculously generous blessings He has poured out upon me, while focusing on my frustration with what it seems He has failed to do for me.  I take a passive stance in regard to the things that matter to Him, because it might require inconvenience or sacrifice on my part to do something about it.  And while, at times, I find the courage to be honest with Him about the way I've perceived His actions (or apparent inaction), it can be all too easy to withdraw from Him, questioning His heart and fearing His intentions.  And I have to believe that really hurts Him - because He really cares about me.

Gratefully, in spite of these painful experiences, God refuses to give up on me and His desire to cultivate day-to-day, soul filling relationship with me, because that's just who He is.