The Ishmael Compromise

What you are about to read is the story of me trying to make things easier for God. You read that correctly. I shudder to admit it, but confession is the path to healing.

For years, 12 to be exact, my family has prayed for a bigger house. I read scriptures, sought counsel, dreamed big, and had confirmations that one day, we would be given a permanent place to dig our roots down. Something bigger than the 2 bedroom we live in now. I have enjoyed seasons of contentment where I thanked God for this little condo, and endured raw frustration when I came to grips with the limitations we have in this place. Most of the time, I've been somewhere in between the two. Here's where the ugliness enters the scene: the part where I made things "easier" for God.

I started thinking about how badly I wanted to move out of here, and how the numbers don't lie: living in New England ain't cheap. The cost of living here is higher in comparison to other parts of the country. So I took my top shelf dream, and brought it down to where I think God could "handle" reaching it. I reduced an unfathomable God to the size of a shoe box. I began compromising with Him.

"OK, so maybe NH is too much to swing. I get it, God! How about North Carolina? How about Virginia? You can totally handle that, right?"

I may not have said those exact words, but to my shame, my actions did. I started looking for real estate on the other side of the Mason Dixon line. I started dreaming of possibilities that weren't on the table of God's BEST for our family. I had subtly entered the Ishmael Compromise.

Tucked into Hebrews 11 in the Bible, and listed among those in the Hall of Faith is a woman named Sarah. Sarah had been promised a child in her old age. She had waited. She had prayed. She had dreamed about it. God made good on His promise because He swore He would, and because she had faith. But flip back to Genesis 16 and we see that she wasn't always a woman who believed that God was able. She was a woman who, like me, was waiting on God for a dream, but was growing impatient. She took her dream off the top shelf and brought it down lower, to make it "easier" for God.

"Now [Sarah], Abram's wife, had borne him no children. But she had an Egyptian maidservant named Hagar; so she said to Abram, 'The Lord has kept me from having children. Go, sleep with my maidservant; perhaps I can build a family through her.' Abram agreed to what [Sarah] said." Gen 16:1-2

Her frustration came to a boiling point. In her mind she had waited long enough for God to come through. Humanly speaking, there was nothing Sarah could do about waiting. So she compromised. She took matters out of God's hands, and into her own hands. While languishing in a world out of her control, she tried making Ishmael (the child Hagar had by Abram) her "Isaac" (the child she eventually had), and wound up disappointed. Exactly where I found myself. Exactly where you find yourself.

"God, clearly I'm not getting any younger, so I'm going to throw myself into any relationship while I wait."

"God, obviously I'm not where I want to be career wise, so I'm going to resign myself to this horrible job."

"God, this dream You've placed in me is so close, and yet so far away. I'm done dreaming. Time to wake up."

"God, I'm starting to think You'll never answer this prayer request. Everything is pointing to the fact that either You are holding out on me, or You're not powerful enough."

Know what I've learned? That it takes more courage to have faith against all odds that God loves me, and that He's is able (even if He chooses not to) than it does to cry uncle and manipulate my miracle. I'm working towards that kind of bravery.

The end of Sarah's story is that she believed. She received her promised son. And God gave her 30+ years to enjoy him. That's the God she served. The same God who we serve.

My fear is that God's timing won't have us move until my oldest is moving out. I desperately want Wes (my 12 year old) to enjoy our house well before he turns 18. And I'm sad to admit that I was willing to shoot straight out of the will of God to make it happen. How short sighted. God met me in my struggle though. He showed me how I was limiting Him, doubting Him, and attempting to undermine His sovereignty. He reminded me that there is nothing too hard for Him. Not in NH, not in America, not in the universe. He gave me the directive I needed. Stay put, His grace is on us here, and we will see His hand move us in His timing.

Desperation drives people to do some wild things, doesn't it? If we were to peel back desperation's face, we'd see fear. What are you afraid of? That you'll never find out what career you were made for? That you could never afford college? That you'll never meet your soul mate? That you will never have kids? That you will never get that healing? That you will never get that breakthrough? Let desperation instead drive you to do the hardest thing of all... To wait on God. To resist fear with faith. To not settle for second best while you're waiting for the best. 1 Peter 3:6 says it beautifully:

"You are [Sarah's] daughters if you do what is right and do not give way to fear."

Be brave. Though your prayer looks far from answered, be brave. Though you could settle for a million plan B's, be brave. When you feel like taking matters into your own hands, be brave. Don't take the Ishmael Compromise. Wait for your Isaac. Wait for God to come through in the BEST way- His way.

What's something you waited on God for? How did He answer?

Life Lessons From Lucy

About a year ago, we adopted a Boston Terrier named Lucy. She came as an answer to prayer- our kids' prayers. Steve and I were completely opposed to getting her, since Steve has been bitten over a dozen times , and we didn't think we could handle one more thing. Steve was surprised however to meet two Boston Terriers in his travels at work. And the surprise wasn't that he found them, it's that he liked them. He happened to tell me that if there was a slight chance of ever getting a dog that it would have to be a Boston. When he told me that, unbeknownst to us, one of our kids was eavesdropping on our conversation. It was as if he was just debriefed on the location of a weakness in our armor. He led the other kids in spontaneous prayer meetings every morning for almost a week, and by weeks' end, we had Lucy in our home.

It took us about 3 months to adjust to having her (and her to being with us), but after the summer was over, she was officially one of our own. Her daily rhythm slowly merged with ours, and she became as much of the kids' wake up routine as brushing their teeth is. No matter where I travel in our house, I can expect the pitter patter of 4 little paws to follow. She knows when I ask her, "Where's Daddy?" to bolt to the door , stand on her hind legs, and peer out the window to look for Steve. I never thought I would say this, but Lucy has taught me a lot over the past year. Here are the top 5 life lessons she's imparted to me:

#5- Push Screens Aside. I remember the first time that Lucy told me, "Madam, I could care less about your laptop" I thought it was a fluke. But she made it a point when she wanted attention to climb up on her hind legs, and paw at either my hand or the keyboard to let me know, "Get off the computer and hold me!" That is the remedy for a technology soaked era that we live in. We need to know when enough is enough and opt for face time as opposed to screen time. 

#4 - Pursue Play. There is one tell tale sign that Lucy wants to play, and I know Lucy well enough to be able to see it: the playful twinkle in her eyes. She stares at me forever without blinking. Then if I twitch suddenly, she moves into downward facing dog position. When I start chasing her, then she begins barking playfully and chasing me back. I can almost hear her saying, "Catch me if you can!"  Life is so heavy sometimes, isn't it? There is so much yuck to wade through. Being a human means big decisions to weigh, lots of unpleasant experiences to be had, and frustrations that seem to pop up with more regularity than Old Faithful. I'm so glad that there is laughter. I'm so grateful that there is levity to balance out the dead weight of hardships. Lucy teaches me that not only do I need to play, but that I need to pursue play. I must look for opportunities to let laughter chop up my breathing, and loosen my tense muscles.  I need to always keep an eye out for a good laugh.

#3- Rest Well. It's not uncommon to see Lucy sprawled out on her tummy and a fleece blanket with her legs unnaturally splayed behind her, or basking in that one patch of sunlight coming through the window. The girl can play hard, but she can rest at the drop of a hat. Sometimes I feel guilty when I rest, because what thing am I checking off on my to do list by resting? Nothing. However, there is a productivity in resting. There is a regrouping of resources, a healthy aerating of thoughts, and a building up of potential energy that will be used to burst into kinetic energy when my rest is through. By resting my mind, body, and spirit, I'm giving myself permission to work as a more nourished person in the future, as opposed to more depleted. 

#2- Love Hard. Why does this dog greet me after a 20 minute errand with the same enthusiasm that Greek war heroes received? Simple: she loves hard. Lucy has perfected what I call the "thigh-high-five", which is her way of saying hello. She stands on her hind legs, and whacks the daylights out of your legs with her front paws. If the dog could spew confetti from her ears, she totally would. But she also seems to know when someone needs extra TLC. After an injury, or during a sickness, Lucy has been known to offer her silent yet steady presence to the down and outer. I want to love like that; to be magnetized to the ones who needs extra care. 

#1- Prayer works, But Not Like I Think It Will. I mentioned at the outset that Lucy was an answer to our kids prayer. Little did I know though that someone else was praying for God to act: my husband. You see after all his horrible history with canines, Steve was sick of it. He hadn't enjoyed dogs for most of his life, and with good reason. For him, dogs were a reason to be on guard. I think he really wanted to like them, but they didn't give him any reason to. So he prayed that God would intervene. It wasn't until 3 months after we acquired Lucy that it hit me- since we'd gotten her, Steve hadn't been bitten ONCE. It could be that now that he had a dog that he was more comfortable. Or maybe it was the fact that her scent was on his clothing, so it warded off any possible attacks. Whatever the reason, God chose to answer Steve's request to not be bitten anymore by giving him a dog. The only way I can reconcile this, is to file it under the "God works in mysterious ways" folder. Looking ahead, there have been and will be more times in the future when God answers my prayers in ways I would not have expected, or even chosen. His ways and vantage point are higher than mine. He can see the future. He knows what needs to happen for Him to be honored in my life. And I'll always stand in awe of how He was able to answer the prayers of my children and my husband (although completely different angles) with one flat nosed puppy loaf.

What have your pets taught you? :)

Fear Fires

 Since I was a little girl, one of the most common things I experienced was fear. Fear of the dark, fear of being alone, fear of punishment. It still creeps up more than I care to admit; fear of bad stuff happening to my kids, fear of the unknown, fear of change. Fear has a way of shaping our thoughts, altering our decision making, and eclipsing our faith. As much as I hate to admit it, fear has played a role in the times that I should have spoken up about something but didn't. I've let fear damage my relationships to the point where I've lost friendships. I've even let fear hijack my mouth when parenting my kids. It's like a fire that can cause great damage, and spreads quickly. How many times has a teensy fear spread like wildfire until I'm completely paralyzed? Too many to count. And sometimes, the damage is so great that I don't know how God could rebuild. Thankfully, His ability to rebuild triumphs over any destruction caused by those fearful fires. What do we do when we see a fear fire pop up? Do we try to stop it, or do we allow it to etch a devastating path in our minds, dreams, and relationships? 

One of the first fire safety tips I learned taught me what to do if my clothes ever caught on fire. Do you remember learning "Stop, Drop and Roll?" Thankfully, I've never had my clothes catch on fire, but maybe this tip can be repurposed into what we can do when we're afraid.

STOP.

The tendency I have is to let fear run its course until the "fire" is so big that it's nearly impossible to put out. I'll use a real life fear that I have to show you how it happens inside my head. If I am snippy with the kids, it looks like this:

Snippy with the kids ---> emotional wounds are caused ---> they'll never forgive me ---> they'll grow up deficient in love ---> they'll have unhealthy relationships ---> they'll end up in counseling ---> or jail ---> or worse

Sad, isn't it? Now although those things could potentially happen (I did carry them to extremes), I'm letting things that haven't even happened steal my joy as if they were really happening. It's true that me being snippy could hurt the kids, but if I focus on the fear, I can't have vision for how to course correct in the here and now. So when fear fires start, the best thing to do is stop.

Stop the fear in its tracks by refusing a chain of fears to be perpetuated. Stop, and capture the thought.

We take hold of every thought and make it obey Christ. 2 Corinthians 10:5

To every fear that lights up, yell "Freeze! Halt! Stop in the name of the law!" Is that fear something that would come from the heart of the One who wants to give you peace, joy, and wholeness? No. And in the case of my example fear, the solution can be as simple as me humbly apologizing. Then God can do something amazing like turn my Mom fail into a lesson for the kids to know what to do when they hurt someone, and show them that He is there to heal their hearts. He's good like that.

DROP. 

This is the opposite of the fight or flight response. Sometimes fear makes me fight; fight with the joy and peace that are trying to rule my heart. Sometimes fear makes me run; run from opportunities. But what I should do is drop; drop to my knees and give my fear to God. After all, He's the one whose shoulders are big enough to carry everything that's weighing me down. Prayer is like a fire hose that shoots water on hungry flames. Because the focus shifts from "how am I going to get through this fear?" to "God, You are big enough to handle this fear." 

Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. Philippians 4:6

When fear rears up its fiery head, drop to your knees (or drop what you're doing or thinking) and pray. Let worry be the fire alarm that a fear is blazing, and let prayer be the immediate action you take. This fear may be bigger than your scope of knowledge, but it's not bigger than God's. And in faith, thank Him for taking care of the matter, and taking care of you.

ROLL.

Rolling smothers out the flames by depriving them of oxygen; without oxygen, a fire goes out. Rolling around in God's goodness deprives fear of the power that it has to overshadow every good thing we have been given. It's hard to focus on ourselves when we are getting swallowed up into the goodness of God. 

The Lord is my light and my salvation—  so why should I be afraid? The Lord is my fortress, protecting me from danger, so why should I tremble? Psalm 27:1

With the focusing of our minds on the power and majesty of God, the tables are turned. We no longer are cowering at the unchecked inferno of our fears, we are bowing at the greatness of God. Suddenly the power that fear once had is extinguished, and it is no more. If God is for us, who (or what) can be against us? There are shadows of the unknown, but God is light. There are hidden dangers, but God is our way, truth, and life. 

Stop. Drop. Roll. And give fear a reason to turn tail and run.