That First-Love Gift

I never thought in my hardest, loneliest days – 22 years ago now – that those would also be the times I felt closest to God.  

Not that I’m not close to God today.  I just recognise that I’m ever clamouring to get back to that time, spiritually, when I absolutely needed God every day, and many of those days it was one moment at a time.  

Many of those first days
I had nothing but God.  

I had my daughters and my parents,
but I also had a lot of time alone.

God was front and centre and proved
His presence with me every time.

But with time, and especially as life becomes easier, our love for God cools.  I know that God understands and accepts the ‘cooling’ of our love for Him over time.  Perhaps we don’t love Him less, maybe it’s a refining of our love.  

The tension in us to get back to the first-love status is all that is needed.  

I call it a tension because on the one hand we want what we had in the past, and somehow it impels us forward in the future.  And on the other hand, accepting that we’d always want that heart-aflame passion means, we affirm those who are there – those on fire for God.  They fan aflame our faith by the Holy Spirit.  The young in faith are a gift that we need.

Wanting what we had honours the past.  I never thought when I was really broken that I had something that I would want to reclaim in the future.  

I guess part of my hope back then was that God would truly use some of that brokenness for His glory.  And God has really honoured that.

Somehow, I’m hoping that there is someone reading this who’s right there in the beginning of their journey of recovery who needs this encouragement.  There is something I envy about where you’re at!  

Your spiritual proximity to God is something that isn’t always there when you’ve overcome the tyranny of circumstantial brokenness – when life has righted itself years or a decade or two on.  

There is a real beauty in a life full of lived purpose for the things suffered initially.  I love living out of the purpose God gave me more than two decades ago.

Be encouraged in your rock bottom state, that pressing into God right where you’re at, when you feel you’ve got nothing, is the absolute nexus, the prime position, to receive Jesus’ love.  

A decade or two or three on we’ve been through a lot and perhaps we’re worn down a little with life, or our love for God has cooled because we’ve begun to take what He’s done for us a little for granted.  

The sanctity of the first-love is precious, we’re receptive and more open to revelation.  Our insight is piqued, and our hope is strong because we’re weak.  

The sanctity of the first-love is precious also because we believe in the miraculousness of God, that God lives and moves and walks faithfully with us every step of the way.  

That first-love is a gift that we may feel is somewhere attainable but also somewhere on the horizon — visible, even touchable.  It’s enchanting and part of the hope we have to remain connected to the Vine which is Jesus.  

To have had that first-love — to be set on reclaiming it — is the greatest gift.

Beautiful Wisdom Parenting

I spoke at church last Sunday on the call placed on Barnabas and Saul prior to them being sent to the nations of the world (Acts 13:1-3), essentially taking the message of Christ to whole societies that has absolutely civilised the world.  

A ‘call’ is our innate purpose — something as Christians we receive from God.  

Yet, each of us is absolutely called — perhaps not to spread a message en masse — but certainly we all have a purpose because of the lives we have.  All our lives — whatever faith we have — has purpose, and a purpose: a calling.

I don’t need to say that God gave us our lives and placed us where we are, in our discrete situations, with our life experiences, with the families we have.  Much of this happened for us, whilst some of this we, ourselves, create, have created, and continue to plan for in the creation.  

Allow me to hone in on family — parenting and family leadership, to be precise.  Many, many of us — perhaps even the majority of us — are called into this place of making our contribution to society, and living our lives, so that others (not only ourselves) will prosper.

Indeed, the call on all our lives is to serve others, whether we have leadership or not.  And this is never more poignant than in the family with parenting and grandparenting.  I can say that service is our purpose because of the evidence on our own souls when we have provided service (when we have been kind, patient, gracious, have offered space, etc.) — that good feeling we receive is from God.

Beautiful wise parenting is all the love languages sprinkled as blessings in the lives given to us to love.  

It’s kind words, spoken with belief and authenticity to encourage; the lifeblood of the courage we all need through kind words spoken that say, “You are enough… I’m with you… you can do this thing ahead of you.”

It’s patience executed with grace, absorbing stress as a gift to and for the other.

It’s that quality time spent focused on the other person without distraction, with eye contact, listening, enjoying one another’s presence, turning phones off or leaving them in another room.  Quality time has that intransigent value of being timeless — it doesn’t mean hours on end, but it can be a priceless moment of matchless value, chock full of spiritual nourishment.  Life with lots of these moments with our loved ones.   

It’s beautiful acts of diligent service — where it adds value in the other person’s life, not to enable sloth, but to help where it would be significantly appreciated, but never done for our reward — never done with a string attached.

It’s appropriate physical touch — defined by the other as appropriate and sought.  Through the ages and stages of children’s lives, needs and boundaries change, their physical autonomy must be respected and adhered to, and keeping them safe never changes.  Loving our children and grandchildren requires wisdom and mastery especially around physical touch — everyone’s body is their own domain — and knowing when a hug or simple proximity (sitting and being together) are often powerful and necessary ways to love.  

All of the foregoing are gifts to our children, but there are physical resources and lovely things that can and ought to be given to nourish their lives.  

Being a parent and a grandparent is the most privileged and blessed thing, but with this comes the responsibility to love them well.  We won’t always get it right, so being quick and sincere in apologising is crucial.  Ultimately, WE as parents and grandparents are to be safe people who our children and grandchildren FEEL love them.

That’s the thing with
the beautiful wisdom of love —
the OTHER person gets to define
if it felt like love or not.  

Us being open to this feedback is fundamental.

It cannot be said better than Paul in 1 Corinthians 13:4-8:

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.  It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.  Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.  It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.  Love never fails.”

The gift of pain (if you know, you know)

Grief outbound of loss is a twilight zone of love and life gone wrong, one’s reality interminably gone, replaced with an untenably painful experience of sheer uncertainty — because we’re without what was.  

What you really want, vanquished. 
Nothing but shards, wonderful memories
dispatched as memories now too hard to bear. 
One shut-out of one’s own life — the way it was. 
Forced to ‘embrace’ a life we would never choose.

There are choices, of course, like denying the new reality, but doing that is to deny oneself.  

Some people try denial and it seems to be the way for them, but denying one’s reality leads to the loss of self, and the hardest of all is facing terminal regret too late to reconcile.  Others cannot contemplate that.  They would rather die than deny.  That proves to be the only wise choice — to face one’s pain, one facing at a time; to endure the painful journey to healing.  

Birds of a feather flock together, they say, and those given to the all-consuming world of loss and grief are estranged to those who haven’t suffered such an existential ignominy.  

But loss and grief are potential
destinations for any and all of us.

Those given to loss and grief find great commonality with those who face the execution of the old life.  

I do say ‘face’ — as in, present tense — for that is the reality; an ongoing sense of personal privation as in life becomes a parallel universe where what we THINK are peace, hope and joy — better put, this world’s comfort — are vaporised in a flash.  

Yet, therein lay an utter paradox — peace, hope and joy are BIRTHED from such a place of privation.  From time spent in the darkest pit valley, with God beside, the lofty mountain grandeur cherished for what it was and we hope it will be again — for, we cannot stop hoping.

Indeed, in deepest pain was God’s presence found.  It wasn’t a pretty experience.  There was a sodden pillow, a night full of tears.  The loneliest period of our lives.  Yet, God was found there.  As we looked back upon the presence of God that carried us through.

God was there, in the mire of it, and God was there each step as we looked back.  This is why we’re encouraged when we find a fellow sojourner, one whose face lights up when they SEE we’re kin.

If you know, you know.  It’s not like we cherish this ‘club’ as exclusivist.  We feel sorry for those who find themselves stuck in this liminal space.  But we’re nonetheless connected to and with them.  And we realise together, that if this cannot crush us, nothing can.

The MOST painful reality for those who know, is not being part of the grief but apart from it, like they’re convinced it needs to be touched.  

Because we cannot deny the pain,
it’s better to touch the wound and
endeavour to heal it than leave it fester.

If you know, you know, and there is
comfort in being with those who do.

There is certainly pain in some or many circumstances with those who have no idea — who don’t know — the worst of it, a lack of empathy or emotional and spiritual bypassing.

What suffering teaches us is we
have the opportunity of response;
an opportunity that can’t be ignored,
which is actually a choice:
accept the pain or become embittered by it.

To shake our fist at suffering or God or anything good — to become lost in bitterness — doesn’t shift anything.  Yet, the cross of Christ remains an indelible witness of God’s intimacy with suffering.  

God understands the conundrum of suffering.

God actually understands.  The doctor that met us with tears when he announced our baby was terminally ill gave us all we needed at the time.  We just need to be understood.  

When I believe in God, I subscribe in faith to the concept of judgement, of reconciliation of all things.  The truth will be revealed.  Compensation will be made.  And even though I cannot say for certain these things will happen, it gives me enormous peace, hope and joy to trust a good God.

The answer of God isn’t just the death of Jesus on the cross — it’s the resurrection of Christ.  

Even though we needed Christ on the cross for our redemption, God didn’t stay dead, and the nature of the resurrection — if you look closely enough — is the nature of life.

Suffering teaches us we have no security
other than salvation.  And when we receive it,
we recognise that’s only the security we’ll ever need. 

Has God got no answer for suffering in this world?
Suffering is the vehicle to understanding God’s answer.
That answer is the cross and resurrection of Christ.

Recovery of hope,
reconciliation of peace,
reception of joy.  

Grief forces us through the narrow gate.

Relational Wisdom Speaking Truth in Love

Where Christian spirituality and emotional intelligence (EQ) merge is in speaking truth in love.  The Apostle Paul (Ephesians 4:15) can be credited with situating this relational wisdom in the realm of faith.

As a peacemaking trainer and mediator using PeaceWise principles, all of Christian living in terms of relationships is grounded in this concept.  

Our task in conflict is
to speak the truth in love,
God’s job is to change hearts
(including our own).

But speaking the truth in love is the hardest thing to achieve because we must first attain knowledge of the truth, then have the courage to speak the truth with the humility of loving (and listening to) others, often with opposing views.  

The first requirement is having the wisdom of discerning the truth properly.  The second requirement is the character to balance courage in action with humility of poise.  To speak truth it must BE truth.  In the milieu of relationship, it must be a truth that others are capable of seeing as truth, too.  

Speaking truth to power in wisdom
involves humility brokered in love.

Pairing the courage of speaking a discerned truth with the kindness, gentleness, patience — common (or uncommon) grace — which is love, which of these is most challenging?  Both are!

It is hard to discern truth and then have the courage to speak it.

It is hard to execute relational self-control, especially when we’re passionate about the truth, or we’re motivated by seeking justice or righting injustice.

Which is harder?  Does it matter?  Both are challenging, and anyone who thinks they aren’t could be dangerous in relational settings.  It’s too easy for any of us to think we’ve got the market cornered in speaking truth or loving people, and especially combining the two.

Speaking the truth in love
is the quintessence of relational wisdom.

The more we revere the spiritual maturity required and respect the emotional intelligence needed, the closer we come to speaking the truth in love.  

Carrying the Peace called Sabbath-Rest

I don’t know a sensible person who doesn’t want peace, or more exactly, more peace.  Some call it happiness, others contentment, but it’s best referred to as peace — that sense of satisfied wholeness and quiet enjoyment wherever life’s at, whatever we’re doing.

Ever since I wrote this in 2010, I have believed it’s possible to carry this peace called, Sabbath-Rest.  This Sabbath-Rest transcends concepts related to a day-off-per-week.  Its realisation in us, its practice in life, is an extraordinary experience and gift.  

But the challenge of life is it’s inevitably devoid of peace.  Whether it’s frustrations with things not going our way, the relentlessness of life, or dreams not working out as we’ve desired, our default way is a life without peace.  Not to mention the pain of grief or trauma we may carry that can and does easily overwhelm all sense of serene spirituality at different times.

This is why we need a peace within
that comes from outside ourselves.

A peace that comes from God.

So what is this Sabbath-Rest peace?  

Knowing and appreciating the price of grace, thankful for a thing that we could not do for ourselves, we gaze heavenward and smile despite our circumstances, for the distinct possibility of gratitude.

Gratitude is a thing we can carry with us, despite our circumstances.

An unanxious presence we can practice, despite our circumstances.  

Perhaps these things are not perfected, but we make progress toward them.

These are practical considerations that are further underpinned by a theological foundation — that each of us HAS, as in we possess, everything we could ever want or need — no matter our life circumstances.  

The basis here is we have been found
wholly worthy of our Maker’s love.  

Even though we may so often feel we’re unworthy, we are ascribed the perfect and incorruptible worth of God because of Jesus.  

The interesting thing about concepts of self-worth is the more worthy we may pretend we are, the more we lie to ourselves.  Supreme self-worth cannot come from inside us as something we produce; too much of our lives attest to the opposite truth — people’s unkindness, just for one instance.  Caring people cannot help feel THEY themselves, personally, are the problem — “Somehow I must not be worthy of their kindness.”  Or the opposite problem rises up in us: “How dare they!”  In our anger we may remind others how ‘unworthy’ they are!  And the unfair treatment we receive or mete out makes anxiety rise up, conflicts abound, and that stress when unmanaged makes our lives worse.

Once we fully absorb the truth of our innate worth in God, we begin to be able to access the Sabbath-Rest, which is peace we’ve never had, a peace that can be carried, as we think, say and do right things by faith. 

Negating what the psychologists call cognitive dissonance, our actions align with our inner value set.  Everyone with a conscience judges themselves.  When we think, say and do right things by faith, feeling a sense of worth from God, our worth increases because our right thoughts, words and actions please God, and we FEEL His pleasure.  The more we live like this, the better our relationships form and grow.

All this is foundational, and still carrying a Sabbath-Rest with us is a choice, a practice, an ever-present opportunity that requires intentionality to enter and remain in, just as Jesus says, “Remain in Me” (John 15).

Still what is intrinsically foundational in carrying the Sabbath-Rest with us is centred beautifully in verses like Philippians 3:10-11, as Paul says:

“I want to know Christ — yes, to know the power of His resurrection and participation in His sufferings, becoming like Him in His death, and so, somehow, attaining to the resurrection from the dead.”

This certainly speaks of an unspeakably good eternal rest for those in Jesus.  But it is more, much more.  These words herald the essence of Christian faith itself — how to think, say and do right things by faith.

We all want to live with power, and the foundation of this power, I would argue, is peace — living in harmony with one’s life, the people in one’s life, accepting the things we cannot change, speaking truth in love, indwelt with joy and hope.

Where this all makes sense is in this concept.  When our expectations for ourselves and our lives have been met at the cross, when we have no other bargaining to do with God other than to say, “Thank you for giving me all I need in salvation.”  Everything else is a bonus.  This is what I think Paul was getting at in Philippians.

As Christians, our expectation is death, for when we were apart from God we were dead in our sins.  We felt hopeless and peace felt a hell of eternities away.  As we face death to our worldly desires, there we find life in Christ.

This new life we have in Christ comes with
a Sabbath-Rest that we carry with us.

The Sabbath-Rest is thinking, saying and doing right things.  

An example of this is we refuse to covet things greedily, we abandon lust, we repent of our anger, we identify and dispose of our biases a moment at a time, we overcome our sloth, and we cease envying.  Importantly, we cannot do the things in the preceding sentence without a heart like Paul’s who said in desperation:

“I want to KNOW Christ.” 
It is ALL he wanted.  

The more we give up what we cannot keep,
the more we stand to gain what cannot be lost.

Our salvation cannot be lost, and
everything we would want comes from it.

Resurrection power comes from happily
approaching and enduring our crosses.

The meaning of life is opposite to what we think, folks!

Give up what you cannot keep and
you will gain what you cannot lose.