Put Down Your Luggage!

“Dear God,

OK, I have serious bloggers block!  What should I write about this month?  I know that I have a whole list of stories from my life that demonstrate how wonderful you are and how thankful I am to be so blessed…but for some reason none of them are motivating me at this moment.  Why is that?  I feel like maybe this month should be something current, but I feel kind of blah lately, like I’m stuck in some kind of rut and – what?...Forgiveness?  You want me to write about forgiveness?...Well OK, that makes sense for April since we did just celebrate Easter and all.  Thanks!  I knew you would inspire me! –Amen” 

(Yes, I realize it is now June but I really did start this post in April.  Will you please forgive me for being such a slacker?) 

So, what do I know about forgiveness?  I know that we are all called to do it.  I know that it is one of the hardest things in life to do.  It goes against every cell of our flesh to forgive when somebody has hurt us so badly.  And then I think about Jesus.  He died a horrible death on a cross so that we could all be forgiven.  He forgave us and redeemed us all.  There’s no doubt that as flesh Himself that was THE hardest thing He ever had to do.  But He did it because God asked Him to, because they both love us so much.  We are reminded of this in John 3:16

For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.

He made Jesus the ultimate example of what it means to forgive.  And because I know that He loves me so much (and you too), I know He would never ask me to do something that wasn't for my own good.  He does not ask us to forgive our offenders for their sake (He is perfectly capable of dealing with them Himself - He does not need our help)!  He asks us to forgive them for our own sake.  It's taken me most of my life to figure this out. 

I will never forget the day that it just clobbered me over the head; the realization that withholding forgiveness was only hurting me.  It seemed like I had been mad at my dad forever.  Not the kind of I’m-never-speaking-to-you-again kind of mad, just this resentment that was always lingering in the edges of my mind.  Just waiting for the perfect moment to spring from the shadows and completely overtake me.  I knew it was time to just get over it, I mean my parents had been divorced for more than a third of my life.  I knew God wanted me to forgive, but I just couldn’t seem to do it.  I kept asking, 

“How do you forgive someone who’s never asked for forgiveness…who’s never even admitted that they did anything wrong?” 

It wasn’t long after that conversation with God that He answered me.  I was serving in the store at our church and while straightening up I noticed this wall of DVDs.  I had seen them there before, but never really paid much attention. They were the Nooma series and there was a bunch of them.  But on that day, this one in particular caught my eye and practically jumped off the shelf into my hands.  It was titled Luggage 007 - Rob Bell.  I turned it over to see what it was about and this is what I read: 

“Maybe a friend turned their back on you. Maybe someone you loved betrayed you. We all have wounds and we end up carrying around these things that people have done to us for weeks, months, and sometimes even years. It isn’t always easy to forgive these people and after a while these hurts can get really heavy. So the only way to feel better seems to be somehow getting back at the people that hurt us, to get revenge. But does revenge ever truly satisfy? Maybe forgiving isn’t something you do for someone else to let them off the hook. Maybe forgiveness is about you. God didn’t create you to carry these wounds around. God created you to be free.” 

Somewhat stunned, I put it back on the shelf.  It was the only one that I’d even felt compelled to look at.  That DVD changed my life and I never even actually watched it.  I didn’t need to.  That little blurb on the back told me everything I needed to know.  That was it.  I finally understood that I chose to pick up that “luggage” and carry it around with me.  And to get rid of that hurt all I had to do was forgive, set it down, and walk away.  And that’s exactly what I did.  I don’t think I’ve been mad at my dad since.  In fact, I think our relationship is better than ever. 

Now I recognize that in the big scheme of things this offense doesn’t seem like that big of a deal…half the population is divorced – boo hoo!  I know that I am so blessed to have two parents that love me, to have grown up in a home never lacking anything.  I know that a lot of people have suffered far worse things – unimaginable things that seem impossible to forgive.  If you’re one of those people I can’t say that I know exactly how you feel because I don’t.  But what I do know is that forgiving will only benefit YOU! 

Withholding forgiveness does not punish your offender, it punishes you.  By forgiving someone you are not saying that what they did was alright, you’re not excusing their behavior.  You’re freeing yourself – handing your offender over to God.  Believing that He is a God of justice and trusting that He will allow the appropriate punishment in His own perfect timing. Punishment is not your job and to act like it is only works against you, continuing to hurt you over and over again!  By giving it to God you take away the power of your spiritual enemy.  You sever that hold of hurt that he has on you!  Forgive for your own sake, and let God take care of the rest.  He always does.  When you call on Him, He always answers, just like He answered me on the back of a DVD – God is SO good!

Chasing the Wind

“Dear God,
Please don’t let me have lost it! Oh God, please, please, please…! If it’s gone I’m sure there’s a way to fix it, but when? How long will that take? Ugh! I don’t even want to think about it. I need it NOW! Please help me find it! I’m pretty sure I stuck it in my purse. Where could it be? It’s so windy! If it blew out it must be long gone. Oh Dear God PLEASE help me find it! – Amen”

Well in honor of the upcoming tax season I thought I’d share a little story of the time I lost my tax return check. My daughter was a little over a year old and I had quit my job nine months prior to stay home with her, practically cutting our household income in half. Needless to say we REALLY needed that check. Back then, we didn’t understand that it was not really a good thing to get a tax return. A return just means that we overpaid the government and let them use our money all year interest-free. But that’s beside the point…back then it seemed like the best plan ever! We could live for the next 3 months on that check alone. We praised ourselves for being so smart with our finances!

So, excited to have gotten the check (this was before electronic filing came into fashion – praise God for that), I tucked it into the back pocket of my purse, gathered up the baby and all of the necessary accompanying gear, and set out to run some errands – first stop being to deposit that check. With everyone and everything safely and securely packed in the car, I turned to battle the wind managing to get myself seated behind the steering wheel just as the wind slammed the car door closed behind me. If you live in Oklahoma you know exactly what I’m talking about! You could easily lose a leg if you’re not careful! I flung my purse into the passenger seat and went to grab the check to get it ready – but where was it?

I’m pretty sure I stuck it in here…(Frantically digging through my purse)…What if it blew out?...That would have been at least 5 minutes ago…In this wind it’s long gone…(Panic starts to set in)…Maybe I left it in the house.

I went back into the house quickly running through and looking everywhere that I thought I might have left it. It was nowhere to be found.

I ran back outside. The wind was blowing hard out of the north so I strained to see as far south as I could, looking for a piece of paper blowing down the street…nothing! It was gone. There was no way that the wind hadn’t already blown it into oblivion. What was I going to do? Call the IRS and ask them to issue another one – ha! I’m sure that’s an easy process! Not to mention that I needed that money like yesterday! That’s when I started to pray - that kind of panicked, urgent prayer that I only remember praying a few other times in my life. What should I do? Drive down the street to look for it? I had walked a couple houses past my house trying to see if I could see it. I turned around to head back to my car (yes, my baby was in there by herself, but don’t worry, the car wasn’t running and I wasn’t that far away). At that moment I noticed a piece of paper plastered to the south side of my house. My heart skipped a beat. Could it be my check? Oh please God, let that be my check. But as I got closer I had my doubts. The wind was blowing toward the south away from that side of my house. How could it have ended up there? I started to run toward the paper anyway, because chances were it wouldn’t stay put for long. As I entered into the area between mine and my neighbor’s house I experienced a small vortex of wind. A-ha! The wind was getting trapped between our houses and gusting toward the north…could it be?! I grabbed the paper, held my breath, and turned it over – JACKPOT!  It WAS my check! Hallelujah – Praise God – literally! I cried with relief and climbed back into the car, check tightly gripped in my hand all the way to the bank.

Now you may be thinking that this is really no big deal, not exactly an awe inspiring testimony. It’s perfectly natural that the check would be caught up in a vortex and blown against the side of my house, but trust me, this was a supernatural event! God intervened on my behalf. I had been relying on that money, relying on the government to provide that money. This was His way of getting my attention to remind me that I should only be relying on Him. He provides for all my needs. That money wasn’t a gift from the government. They were just returning what was mine. Actually it wasn’t even really mine, it was God’s. He was entrusting me with His riches, reminding me that it came from Him and it could be taken away just as easily as it was given. Thankfully, He blessed me with mercy that day and allowed me to keep it.

I believe that God has been prompting me to share this story with you for several reasons. First, it’s tax season again, so it’s timely. Second, He recently showed me this passage from His word: “But remember the LORD your God, for it is he who gives you the ability to produce wealth, and so confirms his covenant, which he swore to your ancestors, as it is today.” (Deuteronomy 8:18 NIV), reminding me that it is He who gives us the “ability” to earn money. He deserves all the glory for every penny we have!

And lastly, a few days ago I was waiting for my now 9-year old daughter to get home from school. It was very windy out, much like the day my check blew away. My 3-year old son came running to me exclaiming:

“Sissy’s home! Sissy’s home! She’s tryin ta get sumpin (something).”

I looked out the window and couldn’t see her. Where was she? I knew her bus had already come. Then I saw her, bent down in front of our brick mailbox, apparently trying to pick up the mail that she’d dropped. I opened the door and walked toward her, asking if she needed help. She was crying…balling actually. She had dropped the mail and the wind had picked up a piece and was blowing it down the street. She had her hands and feet frantically stepping on all of the rest of the mail trying to keep it from also blowing away. I gathered up the mail freeing her to chase down the piece that had gotten away. Turns out it was just junk mail, but she didn’t know that. To her, it could have been the most important piece of mail in the world. I knew exactly how she felt. I had wanted to cry too when I thought my check was blowing down the street all those years ago. As I watched her chase after that mail it struck me, God was using the memory of that incident to once again remind me that we need to rely solely on Him…otherwise we’re just chasing the wind!

Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep...

“Dear God,
Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take. Amen
P.S. Please keep those little devils locked tightly in my closet…Amen!

This is the prayer of a five-ish year old little girl, that girl being me. I have said this prayer every night for as long as I can remember. My mom taught it to me and we would always say it together (not the “P.S.” part). I know this prayer has stirred some controversy as to whether it is too scary for children, and that it’s been revised to make it more kid-friendly, but I’ve always liked the original. I don’t remember ever thinking it was scary. I always found it comforting (and still do) to think that God was watching over me as I slept and even if something should happen, and I never woke, I took comfort in the fact that I would be with Him.

So why did I add the “P.S.” about the devils if I wasn’t scared? Well I was scared, but not because of the prayer. To be real honest, I’m not certain that I actually added that to my prayer…I mean that was almost 35 years ago so it’s a little fuzzy around the edges. But here’s what I do remember quite clearly:

I was lying in my bed, in a room that I shared with my baby brother. I thought I saw something moving under his crib and when I sat up to look, two little cartoonish looking devils, complete with horns and pitchforks, crawled out from underneath it. They didn’t say anything, just laughed demonically as they pulled me from my bed and led me toward the closet. The door was open (hadn’t mom closed that before she tucked me in?!) and all I could see through the opening was darkness engulfed in flames (I knew it! – the closet WAS in fact the gateway to hell!). The two little devils walked ahead of me, still pulling me by my hand. I could hear them whispering, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. Just as I was about to panic I heard the command,

“Look down!” in a very clear voice.

When I looked down there was a rock, like a river rock, on the floor. I reached down and picked it up with my free hand. Instinctively, I knew what to do with it. I slipped it into the devil’s hand that held mine. Success! He didn’t even know that I’d escaped. I stood there and watched as the two little devils entered my inferno of a closet and the door slammed shut behind them, securely locking them away. In the dark, I stood there relieved, knowing that God was right there with me. It was His voice that I had heard. He saved me, protected me - my soul, that night, I would keep!

You’ve no doubt already figured out that I had a bad dream – well sort of a nightmare-turned-most wonderfully significant dream of my life. I’m sure that some of you are skeptical that I can even remember a dream from so long ago, but let me assure you – I do! Ask anyone who knows me well and they will tell you that I have an EXCELLENT memory (keep your Rain Man jokes to yourself please). Not a photographic memory and I’m terrible with remembering numbers, but a very detailed, situational memory. I think it’s because I really try to live in a moment and pay great attention to all of the sensory details. Also, growing up we moved every couple of years, so it’s fairly easy to remember things based on where I was, allowing me to pinpoint the time period pretty accurately.

I know that I was about 5 because we lived in Saudi Arabia from when I was 3-6 in a tiny 2-bedroom complex where I had to share a room with my brother. I was 4 when he was born, and I’m sure that both he and my parents would like for you to know that we did come back to the States and stay with my grandparents in Illinois so that he would be born in the good ol’ U.S. of A.! Anyway, that’s why I’m guessing I was close to five, because the dream took place in that room at the same time I was actually living there. The dream was so real that I don’t even remember when I crossed over from being asleep to awake. I just know that I was awake in that room, closet door closed, knowing that God was with me. I wasn’t scared in that moment, but to this day I cannot go to sleep without closing the closet doors! And I always make sure my kids closet doors are shut tight too! Practically every time I go through this ritual I remember my dream and how it was my first real introduction to God as my Savior.

I am not trying to claim that I understood the meaning or symbolism of this dream at such a young age, just that I knew God was real and He was (and still is) looking out for me. I attended a Christian Pre-School while living in Saudi Arabia, so I’m sure those story-time teachings with the characters on the felt board had their influence on me. If you’ve read some of my other blog posts you’ve probably figured out that going to church and reading the bible are relatively new to me. In fact I just did my first bible study a few months ago. So imagine my overwhelming surprise when I came across this little jewel:

The Lord is my rock, my fortress, and my savior; my God is my rock, in whom I find protection. He is my shield, the power that saves me, and my place of safety. Psalm 18:2 NLT

I know, pretty amazing right?! And there are so many other passages like this in the bible that I can’t even begin to list them all. I am so blown away every time I come across one. After all these years my dream finally makes sense.  I always knew that I had heard God and felt His presence in my dream, but I never thought I actually saw Him, until now…He was the ROCK!!!
 
God is SO awesome that He came to me in a dream when I was five years old, to save me from my spiritual enemy (or in this case - little cartoon minions), and to show me, literally, that He is my rock, my solid foundation! That’s how much God loves me, and He wants me to tell you that He loves you just as much! Amen for that!