When Life Gets in the Way of Life

When I see pictures of myself at seven years old, still and quiet with a wide and peaceful grin, seeking eyes, a demeanor of trust, no furrowed brow that focuses on memories not yet filed for later rummaging and repeated run-through, I come closer to terms with the impact the world has on all of us. At seven . . . an innocent face devoid of uncertainty, wonders not why or why not, no ifs and maybes. An oval of hope. Anxious ears. There are no lines of regret, no signs of burden, no flinching from the truth of who I am, no worry about who I might become, just a comfort with it all.

Just a good little boy, not yet abused or used . . . and not so confused.

We change, or we are changed.

When I look back through the decades, I believe it is the gentleness of lies that does more harm to us than does the brutality of truth . . . the love you forevers and the leave you nevers and the no matter what you dos and no matter what you choose . . . that crumble in the face of reality, leaving creases of pain and regret and loss and loneliness and wants unfulfilled and dreams that fight for light before slowly being killed. Perhaps we are wounded more by the promises of love that fade and fall away in distress or disappointment than the starkness of judgement which turns its back, yet waits and watches. . . for change.

Both are blind, unkind in their inability to see the subtlety of change. In love and judgement both, people move on.

But the question of change, and why we change, remains. Remaining also are the questions others have: Can you? Will you? Have you? Are you sure? How can I know? Will it last? And the demands: prove it.

Is it too late? No. You've been changing all your life and God in heaven has observed each moment, each unfolding, each unsightly shift, every coming back, each advance, countless retreats, the timid and the raging days, the moments of cowing, the rages of rebellion. He heard the cries for grace, the pleas for forgiveness, the shouts of doubt, the praise of thanks and endured the silence of bewilderment with you. Do you think He ever stopped listening? Does He ever stop longing? Do our souls ever stop longing for Him?

We really need to stop wondering if change is possible and if it is measurable and if it is provable. We need to stop worrying about whether change is debatable. We need not stumble on whether change is desirable. We need to listen . . . and if God, in His Word and wisdom, tells us we need to change, then . . . we need to change. For Him.

And His word is clear about sin. We're to turn from it.

Then we open our eyes . . . we stand to our feet . . . and we turn  . . . and there it is, staring right back at us as it always has: life. The world, which takes good little boys and sweet little girls and shakes them hard and pulls and pushes and tempts and prods and surrounds us with fear and uncertainty until we find our feet anchored in a sea of doubt and our hands tied with ropes of regret and our hearts strangled by both the memories and the fears of rejection, and we become like statues in a forgotten garden. We don't . . . change. We are paralyzed in counterfeit peace, the storms raging deep inside. Please . . . peace.

Peace I leave with you; My peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid. -- John 14:27

Change is so hard in the shadow of an earlier choice:  the world. We've chosen the glittering hope of the dangling peace over the real one.

Choose again.
Breathe deep . . .

Turn around . . .
Slow the mind . . .
Still the tongue . . .
Seek the eyes . . .
Extend the hand . . .
Feel the peace . . .
Take the love . . .
Breathe again.

It is not easy to walk through life balancing between the weight of judgment and the weight of want, pits on each side of the narrow path.  The weariness of willful sinning that comes out of will worn down by weakness pulls like quicksand, draining the energy needed to resist and stand on stable land.  When your hand goes out to the world around you and your cry is heard while your prayer is stifled, and you grasp the air and the response is silence, you are tempted to narrow your focus down to survival, just getting out of this pit and worrying about the others to come later. That's not change. That's repetitive pain.

Stop worrying about who thinks you can't and who knows you won't. Don't even worry about the  ones who pray you will -- God answers prayers; you don't -- and pray yourself and yield your will.

The devil would like little more than to keep the sexually-broken person in a round-robin of rejection, remorse and rebuilding. That's not repentance. That's not change. It's self-torture and it demeans the good of those who really are pulling for you. Not the finger-pointers, but the ones who stand with palm extended and ankles braced against the edge, urging you to move out of that pit, not dig down deeper.

Volumes have been written, focusing on every aspect of the broken's life and telling us to do this and that to change . . . and often we just end up placing our hopes in the plans of others instead of in the hands of the One who knows -- and always has known -- every aspect of us. And, He will know when you have changed. He won't have to ask you to prove it.

Don't try to change to seek the approval of anyone, even those you hurt and love and miss. I don't know how many times I have tried to demonstrate change only to be rebuffed by reminders of my overwhelming sinfulness. That darkness of the past, for some, will never penetrate the light they hold up in which to view me. I have learned now that if the darkness is to be penetrated, it will be by God, not me. Sometimes moving on -- changed -- is the only way to respond, holding hope they will one day catch up and know us again.

Don't let anyone convince you that in your wandering you forfeited the right to your inheritance and the path to restoration.  You have a right that cannot be stripped from you through any incrimination. In God's eyes, through the saving blood of Jesus Christ, you stand on equal footing with your accusers and judges.

Yet to all who did receive Him, to those who believed in His name, He gave the right to become children of God -- children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband’s will, 

but born of God. -- John 1:12-13

You are one of God's children, by . . . right. And, if you are not, because you have not believed, you will be if you do. Believe.

Don't let the sly one who whispers in your ear in the dead of night or in the grip of sin say you are ever unloved.  Sometimes it can be difficult to realize the great immensity of His love against the diminished love of those who have been deceived or damaged by our brokenness. That pesky question . . . "How can God love a sinner like me?"  . . . was answered long, long ago. He loves you. Don't doubt that. Use it for the power it bears in your life on the days you feel unlovely or unloved. It does not wane. I find it hard to accept love, and yet . . . God is love.

Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Come near to God and He will come near to you. Wash your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you double-minded. -- James 4:7-8

Don't flinch from the pain of change, even if the challenge of it seems unending; grow in it. Repetitive remorse can lead to flinching, a weariness that trying again is just a part of failing again. We walk as if we are bruised; don't touch. Don't talk to me. And yet, it is often a touch, a word that soothes and heals. And it is through the hands and hearts of those around us that God will have His work done within us.  Receive from those He has chosen to use in your life, the ones who will not walk away.

A bruised reed He will not break, and a smoldering wick He will not snuff out. -- Isaiah 42:3

Lastly, and importantly, resist the impulse to surrender to the world's feel-good, gift-wrapped acceptance: that "be-who-you-were-meant-to-be-as-we-see-it" mentality. The little boy above is closer to who I was meant to be than anything the world will ever offer. If anything, it is the head-long rush into "being," that has been my undoing.

Don't give up, even if you give in and cry out in disgust at yourself in desperate need of Him. This is how we change. This is how He changes us.

Breathe deep . . . 

Turn around . . . 

Slow the mind . . . 

Still the tongue . . . 

Seek the eyes . . . 

Extend the hand . . . 

Feel the peace . . . 

Take the love . . . 

Breathe again.

From the nursery to the grave, each breath is a step of change.


God Bless,


Thom


(For more encouragement, please consider "Who Told You You Were Naked?" and Surviving Sexual Brokenness, both available at a discount from Amazon.com.)