What do you do with disappointment?

Back in February, Andy and I had the blessing of enjoying a trip to the Grove Park Inn. Before we left, we attended church with our families and heard a sermon, "A King's Heart." In the sermon on 2 Samuel 7, we were challenged by King David's response upon hearing that he would not be able to build the Lord's temple, but that his son would. He had a good, Godly desire to build this temple, but God's plan did not see that in His timing.We spent a lot of that night before we left talking about disappointment--what do you do with disappointment? While on our trip, one of our kitties had a stroke, likely due to some sort of trouble in his brain. Unknowingly, we came home refreshed and planning to slowly ease back to "real life," but instead, we faced the "real life" of getting in the car to take our old man cat to the vet for the last time... only to see my check-engine light was now on. Great timeliness for the sermon.

When God through Nathan, the prophet, told David no, this is where my heart would sag with self pity and begin to mold and stink on the kitchen counter. And no one wants a moldy sponge.

But instead of that selfish and smelly self-pity, David focused on what God did bless him with: God promised to establish his lineage and that the honor of building His temple would be passed on through Solomon, David's son (born from the somewhat notorious marriage with Bathsheba).

So is the answer the quintessential: "count your blessings"?

In the face of superficial disappointment, shifting covetous eyes to current joys might be the only cure needed.

But what about when the disappointment hits right to the marrow? or especially when the disappointment--for whatever your specific stories parameters require--must be kept secret, tucked away to the privacy of locked bathroom doors and tear-soaked pillow cases at night?

Then, in that very lonely then, it is hard to simply redirect your gaze from the crumpled tears to the riches. Those jewels and the gold look a little tarnished and chipped at this point. Sure, many times it's my sinful heart that has idolized this desire of mine to the point that nothing else looks as good--so it's a very raw type of repentance that my soul then needs, confessing that I've put my Dream on the throne where Christ should be.

but sometimes, there's a soul war raging because my Dream is a good dream. It's not selfish, it's not prideful, it wasn't envying. The Nathans in my life looked at my Dream and said it's good.

2 Samuel 7:1-3
1 Now when the king lived in his house and the Lord had given him rest from all his surrounding enemies, ² the king said to Nathan the prophet, “See now, I dwell in a house of cedar, but the ark of God dwells in a tent.” ³ And Nathan said to the king, “Go, do all that is in your heart, for the Lord is with you.”

I've sift my dream through God's Word and it still remains. It's good.

but. God chooses NO. (sometimes.)  and said that no is better than my "good."

 ⁴But that same night the word of the Lord came to Nathan, ⁵ “Go and tell my servant David, ‘Thus says the Lord: Would you build me a house to dwell in? ...¹² When your days are fulfilled and you lie down with your fathers, I will raise up your offspring after you, who shall come from your body, and I will establish his kingdom.¹³ He shall build a house for my name, and I will establish the throne of his kingdom forever.

2 Samuel 7 goes on to share David's rejoice in this news. No, he will not build the temple. BUT, God's promises rang so richly through His "no." Promises of an enduring family line, promises that his son will be king, and more.

But what about the no that I hear? and that you hear? We, too, must listen for the promises in them. Here are the promises that I keep close (please consider commenting with yours?):

Psalm 84:11"No good thing does he withhold from those who walk uprightly."

Luke 1:45"And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her from the Lord.” 

2 Peter 1:3-4
^"3 His divine power has granted to us all things that pertain to life and godliness, through the knowledge of him who called us to his own glory and excellence, ⁴ by which he has granted to us his precious and very great promises, so that through them you may become partakers of the divine nature, having escaped from the corruption that is in the world because of sinful desire."

So when even the fear of disappointment is grabbing at my Dream, I run to these promises again. Then, in turn, it's easier to returning to counting blessings. It's easier to do the next thing. It's easier to wring out the souring self-pity in my heart. Is it actually easy? probably never.

Here's to praying and fasting hard for good Dreams and to trusting that He is faithful even when He says the "good" are not His good. May you join me in fighting for this faith, too.

A Chinese Mother and me

Andy told me a story the other day. A wrecking kind of story.

The story was about a Chinese mother. No longer a wife—her husband was gone. She was a Christian and for that, she was thrown in prison.

One day, the guards came to tell her that it was important as a single mother to be with her children. She was free!

I imagine the joy, the relief, maybe even some disbelief, as she walked to the final gate, where her two sons waited for her, calling to her.

Then the guards stopped her.

You must deny Christ to go through these gates. To go to your children.

I imagine her heart twisting and tears filling as her boys called out to her, desperate to have a mother back. Who knows what sort of life they had without their mother, and a black-listed Christian mother for that matter? I can hear Satan’s whispers:

What will happen to your children if you refuse to deny His Name?

They’re just words. These guards aren’t going to believe anything different whether you deny His Name or not.

You can do more good and share the gospel with more people if you’re released.

While I don’t have nearly the same choice in my life, I do have my own dreams and desires twisting me away. It’s hard to stare head-on with the future and choices. And they’re scary choices. Ones with fear. Ones with unknown. Ones with costs that must be counted high.

Sometimes it’s seemingly simple—do I upgrade my phone to an iPhone and take on the additional twenty-something-dollar monthly fee, or do I keep my “basic” phone and use the money for something else?

I feel the shame sting as I struggle to confess to Andy how difficult it is to turn down the iPhone.

And then there’s the issue of the Call. In my third year of teaching and Andy’s third year of seminary, we’re over the halfway point of our obligations. Of debt that holds us down. We were thinking we could maybe start a family in our 4^th year, the final year.

But the reality of not knowing where God is leading shatters my open-palm-held plans. Or I thought I held the plans with fingers uncurled. But what God has been showing me is that my knuckles have whitened around my plans for too long.

As what feels like every other young couple around our age announces the expectancy, then arrival of their first babies, the envy burns and I want to turn to my calendar and count the days to the Magical Fourth Year. 

But that’s my plan.

God has slowly peeled back a few of my fingers one at a time from my desperate dreams to show me the Possibilities. The What Ifs. Those high costing choices.

Like Malaysia, a country and a people that have settled into Andy’s heart and are slowly moving into mine as well. But it’s hard for Malaysia to move in my heart when it’s still clinging to my perfect four-year-plan, keeping three kitty cats, paying off debt.

The Chinese mother had her own high-cost choice.  She had no way of knowing how things would turn out if she chose the promise that Christ is Lord over the promise of the prison guards. We  want to believe that if she made the hard choice of Christ over freedom, that God would reward that with a quick release or some other miracle anyway. After all, how can you believe that God is good and Christ is Lord when it doesn’t have a happy ending?

As Andy told me, she looked at her boys and heard the guards’ promptings and Satan’s treacherous questioning, and yet proclaimed Christ is Lord.

So when she didn’t know the chain of events that would unfold after her choice, and when the “rational” and even comfortable choice would of course been her boys—how could a mother give that up?—she trusted that when it doesn’t make sense and she can’t see the end, Christ is still Lord over it. Christ is still the ruler. He is still sovereign. When everything seems like a disaster and like it could never be a happy ending, He still meant it for good. He designed that mess for good.

Her ending was not happy. It was messy. She chose Christ. Her oldest boy chose bitterness. Upon her release, some many years later, he was a staunch atheist and refused to speak to her. No reconciliation.

Christ is Lord.

Do I dare echo her words? My “costs” are still far from hers, but the pain it costs to let new God-given plans push out these idol-dreams of pretty babies in an actual house and not this apartment is every bit real. I’ve buried this inside for the shame of admitting that I like my ideas over God’s.

So as I watch the happy little families buzzing around and the envy starts to burn—again? Didn’t I just lay this one down?—I start to hear that redeemed voice in me growing with just enough grace to say,

Christ is Lord.

The envy is down to a smoking coal. 

If I yield my plans, my timeline, I will not be guaranteed that I’ll have beautiful children and a lovely home. A lot about Malaysia, its possible costs, its needs threaten that plan. For that matter, there are countless other ways that God might need me that don’t allow for that pretty idyllic picture of Andy, Kelsey, babies and kitties, a house for a home and no debt for school. Can I trust that Christ is still in control and that He is still good if I not only have to lay down the dreams for a time, but if I can never ever ever pick them back up?

With wobbly faith that He gives grace sufficient for each cost,

Christ is Lord. 

Cat cries

After a bustling day with 28, 24, 21 students, I like the quiet. As an introvert, I need my alone time to recharge--thank goodness, too, for planning periods.

So I'm sitting here in the quiet--the clocks tick, I can hear the automatic timer on the lamp humming as it rotates around for the time... and a cat crying. I think I've recently admitted to myself that I have, indeed, become that weird cat-obsessed person. After rescuing cats this summer and losing Maxwell--our first rescued kitty--due to his trauma from not being rescued soon enough, I have a very tender place for kitties. Fortunately, no other cats have shown up at our apartment complex for me to agonize over and get attached to. But there are two who roam across the street from my complex. Too shy and just far enough away that I can't even figure out where to leave food for them. But from where I am in the quiet of my apartment, I literally can hear some cat crying. If you aren't familiar with upset-kitty-howls, here's an idea. This cat, I believe, is one of my neighbor's... possibly downstairs. The kitty maybe had to be locked in a room while the owners do something else, but it breaks my heart!

Am I upset just over this cat? It does bother me more than I'd like to admit--so much stigma to being that weird cat person. But I'm more troubled by it because it reminds me of pain. of loss. and I struggle so intensely with this fear of losing what's important to me. Oswald Chambers challenged my comfort-zone in yesterday's Utmost for His Highest entry... urging me to be ready to be poured out like a drink offering. Sacrificed, not for "good," but for God being able to then use me fully. I like the idea of God using me, but I do not not not not like the idea of God stripping the comforts and blessings away from me to best use me. Of course, God doesn't necessary HAVE to take away everything happy and good in my life to use me. I do believe He's given me many good things to benefit me, not just because He wants to give me fun goodies. But I realize that things have been very comfy for a long time... and I know God will not leave me in comfort simply because I like it. My biggest fears, the things that if I lost them, I would honestly struggle with trusting in God in the grief, would be 1)losing my kitties all at once--like a fire burning down my apartment building and them... but mostly, I desperately fear: 2)losing Andy.

Sometimes when I'm driving home, I wonder what would happen if I got home, did my work, started cooking dinner, only to give a knock on the door telling me he wouldn't be coming home? What would I do if his work called me to say there'd been an accident? Just imagining that pain is enough to make me freeze, and I'm crying now as I finally allow my mind to confess these fears and confront them, instead of swatting them away. I don't like thinking about this and I like talking about it even less, because I secretly fear that the more I face the unpredictability of his death, the more I fear that it will happen in this tragic way. When I've shared these thoughts with Andy before, he's encouraged me in considering that the reason why these fears grip so tightly and the anticipated pain would be so great is because of how deep the joy is that these blessings in my life bring. And that's a good thing--to see how much delight snuggly kittens bring, how much security, comfort, love, encouragement my husband brings... to think about all those little moments that I love about him and about us...

So today, when the fears came and brought me to my knees, I took some time while I was down there, on my knees, and thought of the list of things that I would miss most if Andy were gone. the things that would make it hard to reason that God is still good. But instead of letting the fear stay, or just trying to busy my brain by thinking of something else, I let that list sit. I intentionally thought of those things, and praised God that I have them to cherish now.

1. the comforting warm fuzzies I feel when I can put my head on his chest

2. his goofiness--even when I get upset and he has to remind me he's joking

3. his help at the grocery store

4. his constant, reliable voice of reason and discernment

5. his anticipation of my needs

6. his faithfulness

7. his pride in me

8. our plans for the future

9. his growing ministries to others

10. his hatred of getting up early in the morning

11. ...his diligence in getting up early with me before school every morning

...and the list could go on, but these are the things that hit me first today.

"Coincidentally," a prompt on the talk-show radio today was what has someone sacrificed for you? ... that word sacrifice again... just so I can't try to ignore the conviction I felt after reading Chambers.

A friend posted on facebook: "The phrase "do not be afraid" appears 365 times in the bible. Coincidence? No. It's God's reminder to us, to trust Him every day."

...I wrestle with this fear so much...

and as I was catching up on my "blogroll," Ann Voskamp echoed many of my heart aches with her blog: http://www.aholyexperience.com/2012/02/what-to-do-in-hard-times/.

One thing that I'm constantly reminded of as I wrestle again and again with these same fears is that they grow more burdensome when I try to fight them on my own. Anxiety IS a sin, and feeling weighted by them is a good reminder why that's not the way God intended me to live...

Proverbs 28:13 "Whoever conceals his transgressions will not prosper, but he who confesses and forsakes them will obtain mercy."

It's only been two months...

You know, I love reading posts from my favorite blogs and I get sad when there's not a daily update. And here I am, with all of 2 posts completed in over 2 months. Work in progress :)

Ann Voskamp's blog is one such blog that I read almost daily. And since I've discovered her blog and how much I enjoy it, I've pestered Andy for her book, One Thousand Gifts for a Christmas gift. Of course, a week before Christmas, I receive the book as a Christmas gift from Donna, my Children's Ministry "boss." Andy was a bit frustrated, but I was happy!

What I've enjoyed about Voskamp's blog and her book is her relentless pursuit of joy, a pursuit that John Piper's work has convicted me of failing in. I tend to get bogged down my whatever is at hand, what feels the most pressing. So while my head knows that working for the eternal kingdom truly is more important, getting the lesson plans written, papers graded, and grades submitted on time often feel more demanding. For twenty-two and half years, I've always had tomorrow to serve God. But the grades have to be finished by 8am--I can read my Bible later. That's been my mindset, if I'm honest with myself.

Part of my constant struggle to pull away my thoughts from the immediate is because it's scary to think about what might disrupt my routines. My little life, while it can get busy, is very good. I have no material needs, only a few wants. Andy and I have jobs, reliable incomes. With Andy in seminary for another 2 years and me teaching, we have a seemingly stable plan for the next few years. We have a cozy home, and three sweet kitties who all pile in bed with us at night to snuggle away dark air's chill. It's all very comfortable. But there are many ways my mind imagines, when I'm kept awake with plaguing anxieties, that all this comfort could disappear. There are probably even more emergencies that could disrupt my life than what my fear-riddled brain could think of. I find myself clinging to my daily routines as something of reassurance--the alarm blaring at 5:26am reminds me that I still have to go to work. But the anxieties also trap me. I don't want to take risks, alter my plans, because what if..? I think that might be a small piece of why anxiety is a sin--not a personality trait--because anxiety keeps me where I am and causes me not to want to move. How much am I limiting what God could do through me because I'm too scared to come out from my fetal position under the covers at night?

The fear of unknown, but surely impending trials fills me with dread from time-to-time, probably because my life is so comfortable right now. But reading One Thousand Gifts, and using what I read to pull me into a Scriptural scavenger hunt as I find the same verses from her book in my Bible and continue pawing through related passages, I do not feel as afraid anymore. Voskamp speaks with honesty about the pain from her childhood, the pain she feels and experiences in her adult life. She speaks candidly about the tragedies around her and her willingness to enter into those. She is able to do so because she runs to Scripture with these tragedies. She asks bold questions and prays and runs to her Bible again and again until her heart is reassured that God is good.

"See now that I, I am He, and there is no god besides Me; It is I who put to death and give life. I have wounded and it is I who heal." (Deuteronomy 32:39, NASB)

"Does disaster come to a city unless the Lord has planned it?" (Amos 3:6)

Next to James 1:2 in my Bible, "Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds" (and oh, have I struggled with that verse--joy? trials? I'd rather hide), I wrote Voskamp's words :

"Hard discipline to give thanks for all things because He is all good. Hard discipline to number griefs as grace because as the surgeon ...cut[s] open...to heal..., God chooses to cut into my ungrateful heart to make me whole."

(Voskamp 100)

With her encouragement from speaking from her own sinful heart, I've found more motivation to admit my fears of hardship and dig through the Word to find Truth with which to confront these fears.

Thank you Jesus, for loving even the fearful sinner like me.

confronting Malachi

Malachi 3:8-11 says: "Will man rob God? Yet you are robbing me. But you say, 'How have we robbed you?' In your tithes and contributions. You are cursed with a curse for you are robbing me, the whole nation of you. Bring the full tithe into the storehouse, that there may be food in my house. And thereby put me to the test, says the Lord of hosts, if I will not open the windows of heaven for you and pour down for you a blessing until there is no more need."

Being fully convinced of this, Andy and I have been giving above our tithe for a time now. Andy's work schedule bring varying income in, so we felt that this was best to accommodate for the times when we receive more and the times when we received less.

As a new teacher, I'm on the lowest pay bracket for the state. Andy's varying income helps the ends meet while we live mostly off my salary and pay for his seminary. After life with Maxwell (picture here is one of the last few we took of him) and his vet bills to give him a quality 8 months with us, we ate away at a chunk of our savings. So now that we have us, seminary, normal expenses, and 3 kitties to pay for, money suddenly is tight. No more orange juice in the mornings, just have water. Turn off the water in the shower while sudsing up. Make sure to turn off the lights when we're not in that room. Cut a meal a week and have omelettes instead. Little sacrifices, and little money saved. We looked at our three kitties, rescued from life outside, and started racking our brains for new homes for them. Andy looked at his tuition bill and realized there was no way he could pay for another semester. He'd have to go half-time instead of full-time, but there's the risk of losing his scholarship as it's contingent on full-time status.

With tears, many tears, I thought of these little sacrifices to cut our grocery bill and utilities, and now this steeper sacrifice of giving up our kitties and getting behind in seminary, I thought of those verses in Malachi and felt more than a little angry. Here we were, giving "more than enough" money back to the Lord, yet there's not enough for us. What happened to that "until there's no more need" that He promised?

But God's promise didn't specify that He would double our money for giving Him some money. He reminded me that both Andy and I have internships through our church that bring in additional money, not much, but more income than we had last year. Maybe God blessed us through these internships. We certainly aren't hurting--we can still pay our bills and have nice things.

I prayed that if there was any way to keep our kitties, God would show us. If there's any way to make a full-time semester of seminary work for this spring, would He please show us how? Help us be good stewards of what we have. Please give us wisdom in how to reduce our expenses.

Andy met with his parents and a brother for lunch yesterday. His dad tossed out the idea of looking at our health insurance. Hundreds are cut from my paycheck each month to cover Andy under my insurance, but Andy does not have regular prescriptions or doctor visits. We're still examining options, but it looks like we could save roughly $300 per month by changing how he's covered.

No anonymous check-in-the-mail, no audible words called down from heaven, no miraculous increase in our checking account. But we prayed for wisdom, and wisdom was what God shared.

$300 a month will allow us to replenish our depleted savings. We won't have enough in time for next semester's tuition, but Andy thinks he can work with his seminary so that he can pay off the next semester as he goes. Three kitties still need a lot of food and clean kitty litter, but with some careful saving, they can still have a home with us for now.

...how's that for an answer to those prayers for wisdom with our finances?

Being Mrs. Schustring

I had a student last semester, let's call him "Freddie" who thought the "schu" part of my name was fun, and thought of every name to call me that had to do with shoes. Shoe rack, shoe store, shoe string. He called me "Ms. Shoe-string" most of the time. I called him "Frederick" in return.

I've been learning from Oswald Chambers that God uses the everyday people and everyday circumstances to shape us. I get so frustrated by not knowing why I have to spend so much time and energy on mundane things. All the hours grading papers seem so meaningless, in the grand scheme of eternity. I feel rather vulnerable admitting it, but I dream of when I can maybe one day stay at home and be a full time mom. So when I'm feeling bogged down by paperwork, meetings, and deskwork, I sometimes feel like my current role as a teacher is so meaningless. But Chambers has challenged me to re-consider what feels so meaningless. God didn't put "Frederick" in my life for nothing. Paperwork isn't purposeless. not that I always understand...

Today was an extreme rollercoastery day. I've never liked rollercoasters--I hate that sinking feeling in my stomach when I'm plunging down a hill, and of course the nerves as I slowly tick up a hill. But teaching today brought that giant, infamous rollercoaster. I had a guest speaker lined up to talk to ALL THREE of my classes at once. Of course, this speaker could only come during my planning. So no break for me today! Little hill number 1. I check attendance while the speaker is getting started--12 students failed to show. Wonder if they're skipping their class AND this presentation. Stand on my feet, which are in my "big girl shoes" so maybe I can look older than 18, so I can give students evil eyes when talking. Medium size hill. Last class of the day: giant hill. They keep talking. They interrupt me to ask me a questions when I'm literally trying to explain that very thing. Then at least 2 more students ask the same question after I've carefully explained it. Now 4 students walk in the room, giggling, because they're 20 minutes late. I tell them they get referrals, because being that late warrants a referral for skipping. Now the 4 kids refuse to work and are cranky. We go to the media center computer lab for one last practice at the online program that they must take their test on next week. 6 students can't log on the computer--their passwords aren't working. They're yelling for me to help, despite my instructions to raise their hands and wait... I'm only one person. A media center staff tells me I have a phone call--a student has been found hiding in the bathroom. The room echoes and the students are loud. With 5 minutes before the end of the period, I yell that they must walk back to the room in silence under pain of referral and sit there until the bell rings. A student asks if she can use the restroom. I snap that of course she cannot--school policy since August has been no bathroom first or last 15 minutes. One girl is crying because she left her purse in the lab and I won't let her go get it--the media specialist is holding it for her, of course.

Not my proudest moment. I'm desperately praying that I won't cry as the bell rings and students, relieved, shuffle out. This is that sinking feeling after the big rollercoaster hill. Q comes to my room, as he does everyday. He's on the football team and hangs around until practice. He played for me his favorite songs (yay YouTube is unblocked again!) so I can cheer up. He offers to help me get referral forms. I'm feeling better, a bit, after the kindness of my student. Just as I'm about to pack-up and go home, feeling a bit defeated, K and E--who are in my dreaded 4th period--walk in. They apologize for the class and their own part in the behavior. They plop down in chairs and begin sharing with me how their history teacher has this bathroom policy, could we try that in our class? What if we sat in groups of four, and you arranged it so the talkers aren't together? How about explaining at the beginning of class that you'll give us one warning, and then write us up? You can write me up if I'm talking! I need to graduate!

Both these girls are about 17, and had their fair share of mistakes their 9th grade year, but have chosen to be in my class so they can get their diploma and not just their GED. They agree to step up and be leaders in the class, to help make it a better place to learn.

I feel humbled. It's only my 2nd year teaching, but sometimes I forget that I have a lot of learning to do. E and K reminded me of that--saying that I'm their only teacher who isn't strict. Ouch... after all my efforts to discipline better in the classroom!

Everyday circumstances, everyday people... I doubt that this moment will be as important to me in five years. But God uses moments like this to shape me. I feel painfully reminded that I didn't pray today, but God granted me a smooth day with the guest speaker and Q, K, and E who encouraged me after school. I'm reminded that I am not perfect and cannot expect to be--as a teacher, wife, follower of Christ. I'm humbled in my teacher status, and I'm blown away that I couldn't even get my mind of myself enough to pray over my day, but God came through anyway.

God used my today to show me once again how heavy the burden is that is lifted when I realize that I can't do it on my own.