STICKY SITUATION

I didn't intend for my worn-daily athletic shoes to fill their creases with dirt and pitch. All I did was notice the pine cone and twig debris under the evergreens along the backyard fence. I took a bucket, walked through the mess, and picked up all but the underlying needles. Those would have to wait for another day, when I had a rake and more energy.

I dumped the “collection” in the garbage bin, but as I walked over the driveway, I became aware of a “muck-muck” noise and a sense of stickiness under my shoes. You probably guessed. My under-the-tree task added tree sap and tree junk to the bottom of my athletic shoes. No way would I walk in those over the house rug—so off the shoes came. I hoped that as they dried out, I could pry out the muck with a sharp instrument (okay, my “compass” from high school trig math days—back when the “dangerous” pointed side wasn't yet outlawed).

I didn't have perfect results of “sticky-ickies” removal, but at least my “yard shoes” are back in business, but won't be getting near the sticky tree debris. I guess I could be clever and pull plastic bags over my shoes. Or else use some really antique tennies now delegated to yard-work and not allowed in the house....

I wonder how often, instead of picking up pitch under trees, we let down our guards and pick up the mucky, sticky, unwelcome conversational values of our non-Christian world. I remember my shock and disappointment when a young woman who grew up in a Christian home lost her cool and called me a vulgar name. Where did she acquire such gutter language? Not, that I know, from her Jesus-following parents. But I know she had a second life away from the God-honoring values of her upbringing. It had a screen and a keyboard, and from it, vulgar language and values likely entered her eyes and heart.

The apostle Paul knew how culture clashed with Jesus-centered values. He saw it at every city where he visited to evangelize, but it seems he pulled out all the stops of reproof when he wrote to the church at Ephesus:

“Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths.” (Ephesians 4:29)

“Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice.” (Ephesians 4:31)

“Nor should there be obscenity, foolish talk or coarse joking, which are out of place.” (5:4)

The apostle's alternative mouth-style was this: “thanksgiving” (Ephesians 5:4).

Granted, there are times when we need to address tough topics, but it's wrong to resort to the world's lazy and mucky language. It needs to go where my collection of pitch-drenched needles and twigs went: the disposal bin. Which is to say: ditch negativity, raise the integrity level of everyday conversation, including the virtual connections. Aim for words that are “helpful for building others up according to their needs....Be kind and compassionate” (Ephesians 4:32).

If tempted to use the world's coarse vocabulary, think of the pitch-drenched needle debris I scooped up from under the trees. A spoonful of those....ugh!

FORGETTABLE

With blue as my favorite color, it's a “given” that forget-me-nots land in my list of flower “likes.” Until an internet search, I never thought much about their history and symbolism. Their botanical name derives from the Greek words for “mouse” and “ear,” as the leaves resemble a mouse's ear. One old German folktale claims a knight wearing armor was strolling with his lady friend along a riverbank where the tiny flowers grew. In his clumsy effort to pick some for her, he fell in the water. As the river swept him away—unable to swim because of his armor—he allegedly cried out to his lady, “Forget me not!” I'm not sure how true that tale is, but it's interesting. 

In general, forget-me-nots are said to symbolize faithful love, fidelity, remembrance, memory, humility, resilience, and desire for loyalty. As such, they're connected with memorials and fallen war soldiers. England's King Henry IV adopted them as his personal emblem. They were also Princess Diana's favorite blooms, with many planted in her honor at London's Kensington Palace. In some cultures, the flower seeds are given to friends and family to plant in memory of a lost one.

Such history adds a deeper level to the “forget” scriptures I cherish in scripture. They include Philippians 3:13-14: One thing I do: Forgetting that is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus. 

These verses remind me that God knows all, but in graciousness can put that “remembering” aside out of His incomprehensible love. For someone who comes to realize he or she is guilty of multiple and deep sins, the extent of God's grace can restore hope. Many years ago, I was called to the apartment of a sobbing young Christian woman who gave in to her boyfriend's demand for premarital sex. Her guilt over losing her virginity was almost unbearable. The verses that came to mind to share with her (regarding confession and forgiveness) were these:

He does not treat us as our sins deserve or repay us according to our iniquities. For high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is His love for those who fear him; As far as the east is from the west, so far as he removed our transgression from us. (Psalm 103:10-11) 

I know of folks who abuse this scripture. They think, “I'll give in, just this time, then ask the Lord to forgive me. Easy-peasy.” But that's trifling with the holiness and mercy of God.

The other side of the “forgiveness” coin is when someone sins against us, then tries to cover over the offense with a lame apology. It doesn't seem fair to the person who was wounded. But the deeper truth is that God sees every hard-to-forget wounding. In her book Hurt People Hurt People (Discovery House, 2001, p. 208), therapist and author Dr. Sandra Wilson observed: 

Forgiveness is not letting someone “get away” with sin; it's letting Jesus be the judge of it. Forgiving means placing the sins and the sinners into the nail-scarred hands of the only One qualified to judge. In doing so, we are released from the bondage of bitterness that comes after our repeated attempts to exact justice have failed.

And maybe it's appropriate that the clumped blue forget-me-nots are so tiny. The offenses we endure, though big in our minds, are tiny in comparison with the world-heavy sin-burden that Jesus bore on a crude cross. For them. But, more important, for me.

DON'T GO THERE

What do you do when your life is rocked through no fault of your own? I asked that after my family was hit by a drinking driver. Hundreds of miles from home, we had a totaled car and personal injuries. But we survived. The cuts, sprains, and broken teeth got repaired. The emotional and spiritual wounds, however, took time. That's why I was grateful for the principles expressed in a book by another drunk-driver victim, Whitworth College professor Gerald Sittser. One night in 1991, while Sittser drove his family home from an event, they were hit by a drunk driver  who veered into their lane at high speed. That man died—along with Sittser's wife, mother, and one of his four children.

Left a working single parent of three with a huge hole in his heart, Sittser somehow had to move forward. With God's help, he did. His book, A Grace Disguised: How the Soul Grows Through Loss (1995) wrestled with the why's of innocent suffering. That was followed in 2000 by The Will of God as a Way of Life (both published by Zondervan). Recently, re-reading that second book, I was struck by the succinct but powerful truth that we grow either better or bitter through hardship. And bitterness is a wretched way to live. Sittser wrote:

There is nothing we can do to change our past. It is as hard as granite, as immovable as a mountain. What is done is done. Regret, bitterness, revenge—none of these can alter what has already happened. No matter how many times we say “if only,” regret cannot alter our past. No matter how bitterly we brood, blame, and accuse, the wrong done to us will remain as it is. No matter how often we rehearse a plot of revenge, we will never be able to reverse the course of events that created our pain in the first place. Regret, bitterness, and revenge will only ruin us. We will become prisoners in our own dark souls, suffocated by our own brooding thoughts. (p. 159)

So what's the solution when bitterness is eating you up from the inside out? Sittser's counsel:

1. Confess your bitterness, failures and responsibilities to God.

2. Be willing to forgive. “The one who suffers the most from bitterness,” Sittser said, “is the one who is bitter. What infection does to the human body, bitterness does to the soul. It consumes. The antibiotic used to treat the disease of bitterness is forgiveness” (p. 163).

Research on mental health, he observed, has affirmed that “forgiveness mitigates depression and anxiety, increases self-esteem, and improves physical health and emotional well-being. It releases people from living in bondage and allows them to live in freedom. Forgiveness heals the soul” (p. 164).

In my case, I made something “good” of something “bad” by speaking out for sobriety for a decade at “education seminars” required of convicted drunk drivers. Sittser brought good out of his nightmare by searching scriptures and encouraging others in their struggles through his thoughtful, articulate writing and speaking.

But we don't need to speak and write to forge a path of healing through pain. This verse has been an anchor for me in my pain: “I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten” (Joel 2:25). The prophet was telling his nation (Judah) not to give up on God, despite a natural disaster (locusts that stripped the land) and impending takeover by an enemy nation.

Bitterness is a dead-end road. If life has brought us pain and sorrow, we can dwell on that and grow more bitter. Or we can shovel up those dead locusts that stripped our lives bare, and—with God's help--plow fresh ground for crops of hope and healthy relationships.

THANKFUL (Psalm107)

This fog sits above the valley where I live, just below hills full of orchards 

(shown in fall). Often in life, we're trying to find our way through the 

fog of trials and disappointments, but God is still above it all--

and still in control.

(A series on the 48 psalms recommended for study during times of depression by pastor- counselor David Seamands, author of Healing of Damaged Emotions)

Studying Psalm 107 is something like working at an archeological site. The deeper you dig, the more treasures you find. In this case, instead of broken relics, you discover timeless truths of how thanksgiving heals broken spirits. It starts out with this unapologetic truth:

Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good; his love endures forever.

Then, after each of the four pictures of desperation, it repeats a similar phrase of gratitude (vv. 8, 15, 21, 31):

Let them give thanks to the LORD for his unfailing love and his wonderful deeds for men.

Scholars believe this psalm reflects the experiences of the Jews after 70 years of Babylonian captivity ended. Their descendants trudged hundreds of wilderness miles to return to their ancestral homeland. But there was no warm welcome home. Jerusalem was in ruins. Disheartening! Yet this psalm’s repeated message is give thanks!

I’m reminded of a saying from the 1970s, “Praise the Lord, anyhow,” which I suspected was just a disguised way of saying, “I don’t like this but I’ll do a token thank-you to God.” The core message of Psalm 107 is so different. In the worst of times, in the most desperate of situations, they chose better over bitter. The psalm provides five pictures of God’s power and mercy in the worst of times.

*The wandering (vv. 4-9). Imagine being released from a long jail sentence. Exchanging prison garb for "regular" clothes, you walk to freedom, the prison gates clanging shut behind. But nobody’s there to take you home, wherever home is. You trudge down the road, no water or food.That’s a picture of facing discouraging circumstances, such as a major disappointment, divorce, crushing debt, or death of someone we cherished. We become refugees in the land of disillusionment, taking one difficult step at a time in hope of finding wholeness. Yet, God is there (v. 9). 

*The prisoners (vv. 10-16). They’re described as sitting “in darkness and the deepest gloom, prisoners suffering in iron chains” (v. 10). These miserable people had rejected God’s commands, and ended up shut away behind bars. Could those bars be bitterness, blaming, anger, prejudice and pettiness--any of which can imprison people for miserable, extended periods of time? Here’s the secret for release: “They cried to the LORD in their trouble, and He saved them from their distress.  He brought them out of darkness and the deepest gloom and broke away their chains” (v. 14). 

*The sick (vv. 17-22). When we’re well, we should praise and thank God. But here’s the reality: good people get sick and die and bad people get sick and die. If God permits healing for the time being, we need to follow up with Vitamin P—“praise.” Still, sickness reminds us of the brevity of life and that we all someday die to face God for judgment.  

*The storm-tossed (vv. 23-30). The Jews weren’t sea-faring people, so this section’s description of a horrific storm at sea shares their utter fear of being in a primitive vessel at the mercy of mountainous waves. A memorable application of these verses occurred in 1748 with a man known for his mean, blasphemous ways. Facing death on a storm-tossed ship, John Newton remembered his mother’s prayers and Bible lessons when he was a lad. Cold salt water drenching him, he experienced God’s amazing grace for a complete change in his life. He left the sailing world and became a pastor. And yes, he wrote that hymn, “Amazing Grace.” If God can do that for a renegade like Newton, He can do it for anyone who cries “out to the Lord in their trouble” (v. 28).  He can calm the storm and guide them to a desired haven (vv. 29-30).

GOD’S PROVIDENCE

The psalm’s final verses describe the providence of God—that is, His dealings with this world according to His wisdom. Some are lifted up, others brought down. Some blessed, others suffering. But no matter what happens, He is there. If He chooses to let us go through a difficult experience, He’s on the other side of it offering two alternatives. One is to complain and grow bitter.  The other is to trust Him, and grow better.

The Rx for discouragement? The last verse:

Whoever is wise, let him heed these things and consider the great love of the LORD. (v. 43)

FORGIVE ME (Psalm 32)

(An ongoing series on the 48 psalms listed as “recommended reading” for times of depression, as listed in counselor/pastor David Seamands’ book Healing for Damaged Emotions.)

When you’re feeling down and defeated, there’s nothing like a safe place to get away from it all—a “hiding place.”  That’s the golden nugget tucked away in Psalm 32:7: 

You are my hiding place; you will protect me from trouble and surround me with songs of deliverance. (v. 7) 

Repeated in Psalm 119:114, both use the Hebrew word sether, meaning hiding place or secret place. David had plenty of those in the wilds as he tried to keep distance between himself and King Saul.  But he couldn’t distance himself from God. In those lonely, introspective times of hiding he had lots of times to reconsider the ways of God. 

Of course, this verse takes many of us to 1975 and the release of the film “The Hiding Place,” about Corrie ten Boom and her family’s persecution for protecting Jews during World War 2.  There was literally a “hiding place” for Jews in their home, in a false wall behind Corrie’s bed, and that’s where Jews fled when officials came looking. Their illegal kindness eventually put Corrie and her family in prison and concentration camps.  Eventually, only Corrie survived to be released.  But she didn’t cower from proclaiming Jesus, traveling the world to tell her story even as old age set in.  It was my privilege to hear her in person in the late 1970s when I lived in California. 

  

This donkey lives just around the corner from us,and saunters 

over to the fence for carrots. A sign on the fence okays those

 offerings--but watch your fingers.

Whenever I return in my Bible to Psalm 32, that movie and her testimony color what I read there. But there’s more, so much more. One big focus in the psalm is confession and forgiveness.  David is searching his heart, sensing great heaviness when he thinks about his sins.  Once he levels with God about his sin, he says, “you forgave the guilt of my sin” (v. 5). The guilt. That’s the part that eats away at our spirits. In our human, fallen personalities, we like to think we have everything under control. We don’t like to see ourselves as suffering the consequences of our sins. Verse 9 says doing so is behaving like a mule which has “no understanding.”  The bridle is the only way to get them to behave. We have a tendency to justify or cover up our sin. David felt its burden until “I acknowledged my sin to you and did not cover up my iniquity” (v. 5). 

One sin we often overlook is bitterness, of harboring a grudge against someone. Many times the original offense was negligible, but it was massaged so much that it grew into a monster, feeding our hostility toward someone. That seems to be behind David’s remark, “Blessed is the man…in whose spirit is no deceit.” Ponder that in light of how he kept running for his very life because of the insanity of King Saul.

When relationships are sticky and situations messy, we’re prone to be like sad Eeyore of Winnie the Pooh fame, whose classic reply to adversity (including the frequent unbuttoning of his tail) is “Oh, dear.” Christopher Robin, the stuffed animal’s owner, can solve the problem by sewing Eeyore’s tail button back in place. But we tend to be Eeyores, who fail to see solutions.  That’s where Psalm 32 speaks to heavy hearts that have lost hope: 

I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you and watch over you…the Lord’s unfailing love surrounds the man who trusts in him (vv. 8. 10).

Impossible to eat

I was a bit surprised in the last few weeks when an old folk song (think: early 1960s and Peter, Paul and Mary) started rattling around in my mind. The lyrics (original with Will Holt in the late 50s) compared the bitter fruit of the lemon tree with fickle young love. Now, I wasn’t thinking at all about teen crushes (and their crushing aftermaths). Instead, the Bible’s perspective on bitterness had occupied my study and thinking.

Someone’s remark about realizing they had a problem with bitterness prompted me to review what the Bible says about it. The book of James, full of blunt counsel about religious pretention, didn’t spare a thing.  After characterizing “wisdom” as evidenced by a “good life, by deeds done in the humility,” he denounces its opposite:

…if you harbor bitter envy and selfish ambition in your hearts, do not boast about it or deny the truth.  Such “wisdom” does not come down from heaven but is earthly, unspiritual, of the devil.” (James 3:15 NIV)

The writer of Hebrews offered a similar warning:

Pursue peace with all people, and holiness, without which no one will ever see the Lord: looking carefully lest anyone fall short of the grace of God; lest any root of bitterness springing up cause trouble, and by this many become defiled.” (Hebrews 12:14-16 NKJV)

Like the weeds in my flower beds, bitterness will take over and choke out what’s good if it’s not dealt with. In the relational realm, bitterness can divide families, strangle what could be healthy relationships, and poison both mind and body.  

Bitterness slips in when we respond to suffering in wrong ways.  Everybody suffers. But we make the choice to be bitter—or better.

Ruth of the Old Testament showed the “better” choice. Death took her husband, her brother-in-law and father-in-law. Rather than slink back in the shadows of her pagan homeland (Moab), she chose the compassionate and courageous route. Despite knowing it would be a difficult and dangerous journey, she decided to accompany her sad and bitter mother-in-law back to her homeland (Bethlehem), even though living there might be just as bleak.  Naomi, in fact, had started to call herself “Mara,” meaning “bitter.”

Of course, the rest of the story was that God rewarded faith. In turning away from her “bitter roots” of paganism and blaming, she received a fresh start and was grafted (via her marriage to a compassionate “kinsman-redeemer,” Boaz) into the lineage of the coming Messiah.

Bitter or better? Remember the lemon. Its main characteristic is sour. And bitterness turns us into sour people.

Possible explosion!

The dynamite, found at this property, was probably acquired
decades ago to blast out tree stumps in clearing an adjacent orchard

On a recent boiling summer afternoon, our adrenalin kicked into high gear when two police officers appeared at our door. “We’re advising you to vacate your house as soon as possible,” they told me and my husband.  “We are trying to stabilize 260 sticks of dynamite in a nearby home, and homes on this street are at risk if it goes off.”

As we drove off with our wallets and a cell phone, I thought of others around the country in storm or fire zones who had mere minutes to leave their homes and all the material tokens these hold. Thankfully, two hours later, the problem was resolved and the dynamite safely destroyed.

But the incident made me think of other things at risk to blast and destroy, especially those in the human heart. Poppy Smith’s book I’m Too Young to be This Old Bethany, 1997) addresses the explosive power of buried pain. Its symptoms, she said, include hostility, an envious or critical spirit, depression (feeling drained), anger at God (“Why did He allow this?”), and feelings of guilt, shame or worthlessness.We must choose Paul’s example, she said: “Forgetting what is behind and straining forward to what is ahead” (Phil. 3:12-14). 

 

I just read an advance copy of Jerry Jenkins' newest novel, I, Saul, which offers a fictional take on the final days of the apostle in a Rome dungeon. Though an imaginary reconstruction of the end of Paul’s life, it helped me visualize Paul’s degraded surroundings as a Roman prisoner. Yet Paul kept his God-ward perspective in negative circumstances. Even his letter cited above, penned during imprisonment, brims with praise to God.

Our tendency is to gripe, and gripe some more.  But Poppy Smith urged readers to do the opposite: rejecting blame, bitterness, anger and the victim mentality, which imprison us emotionally and spiritually. Life, she reminds us, is 10% what happens to us, and 90% of how we react to it. Some of the “hard stuff” involved in the healing of hurts, according to Smith:

*Forgiving the person who caused us pain (surrendering our right to “get even”).

*Discerning between real and false guilt.

*Getting to know God better. Smith cited Isaac Watts’ 1721 hymn, “Am I a Soldier of the Cross,” whose second verse begins: “Must I be carried to the skies on flowery beds of ease, while others fought to win the prize and sailed through bloody seas?” The authentic Christian life isn’t a matter of “trusting Christ” for salvation and then withdrawing from life’s challenges. It’s walking through the tough stuff with the power of God’s Spirit and the fortressing truths of scripture.

This morning I walked by that house (now dynamite-free), a for-sale sign perched in the weeds. I’d been inside it a couple weeks earlier for an estate sale. I didn’t buy anything, but was struck by the deteriorated condition of the house and how much the previous owners had hoarded. Whoever buys that home has a huge cleanup and remodeling job ahead. I thought of people who come to the end of themselves and offers God a tattered heart. God does better than “fix.”  He makes new—and this also a quote from Paul, years earlier: “If anyone is in Christ, He is a new creation” (1 Cor. 5:17).

Paul would know. He was transformed from a dynamo of destruction, who persecuted and killed Christians, to a dynamo of earnest love for His Savior. That’s the power of God!     

Lethal roots

I couldn’t believe how much root was attached to the morning glory weed I pulled from loose soil between some rose bushes. About two feet of root came up before it snapped off! As I dumped it into my weed bucket, I wondered if the writer of Hebrews had morning glory in mind when he wrote: “Make every effort to live in peace with all men and to be holy; without holiness no one will see the Lord. See to it that no one misses the grace of God and that no bitter root grows up to cause trouble and defile many” (Heb. 12:14-15).

I once wondered why the verse said “a bitter root grows up” instead of a “bitter plant grows up.” Then I realized that the origins are in the root¸ and when it’s full of bitterness, so will be the result that shows. Bitterness is clearly forbidden for those who follow Christ: “Get rid of all bitterness, rage, and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice” (Eph. 4:31). Bitterness and its ugly cousins put the big Me, not God, in control:

“ME” was hurt by what my (fill in the blank--maybe spouse, brother, sister, parent, friend, boss, coworker) did to ME.

“ME” didn’t get what I thought God deserved to give “ME.”

“ME” lost something important to “ME.”

Brooding over what one considers unfair treatment can lead to three natural reactions, according to Dr. Charles Swindoll, writing in Hope Again (Word, 1996). One is an aggressive blaming of others that can that grow into revenge and rage. In that process, he wrote, it “nurtures a deep root of bitterness that tenaciously wraps around our hearts” (p. 83). The second reaction is a passive “I feel sorry for myself,” resulting in withdrawal and depression. Third is a “holding pattern” when we postpone or deny our feelings, even though those suppressed feelings will eat at us like an acid (p. 85).

Such negative feelings have been linked to significant health problems. One powerful example concerned a forty-something woman who experienced chronic stomach disorders and arthritis. She asked a pastor to pray for her, and in the midst of praying he sensed the Holy Spirit telling him she had a problem with unforgiveness, especially toward her sister. When he inquired about her relationship with her sister, she stiffened up and told of being unable to forgive her sister for a long-ago offense.

Drawing from Psalm 32:3, where David connected health issues to keeping silent about his sin (“my bones wasted away through my groaning all day long”), the pastor suggested her health problems could be related to her bitterness. When she relented and asked for advice, he counseled her to write her sister a letter of forgiveness, asking to renew their relationship. She did so, but delayed mailing it. In the meantime she became so ill she thought she might die. She dragged herself to her car and drove to a mailbox. “The moment she dropped off the letter she experienced some relief, and complete physical relief came when she arrived home.”(1)

One story of forgiveness I've never forgotten concerns Corrie ten Boom, survivor of Nazi atrocities, who spoke widely after the war. One time after her presentation she was greeted by a former prison camp guard she recognized as being especially cruel to her and her late sister. When this man said he’d become a Christian and extended his hand to Corrie, at first she resisted. Bitterness almost paralyzed her. Finally, appealing to the Holy Spirit, she let go of that old bitterness and found the strength to extend her hand in forgiveness and greeting.

Because it’s so much like a pesky morning glory vine, which travels on and on through the darkness of the soil, bitterness takes radical effort to root out. Yet God truly cares about our “spiritual weed control.” Trust me, I’ve had to get down on my knees for spiritual weeds, too, but the anguish was worth if for the freedom I felt later.

(1) From John Wimber, Power Healing (Harper & Row, 1987), retold in Klaus Issler, Living Into the Life of Jesus (IVP, 2012), p. 59.