Broken Hearts and Invitations

My long-time friend Trisha has a couple boys, and last week they came out of Sabbath School and said, "So Mommy, if Jesus lives in our hearts, then if your heart breaks, Jesus will fall out, right?"

But you know what I keep finding? Often it's not till my heart is broken that I'll even let Him in.

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II. 

LOVE.

I.

CONSECRATION.

Proud of my broken heart since thou didst break it,

Proud of the pain I did not feel till thee,

Proud of my night since thou with moons dost slake it,

Not to partake thy passion, my humility.

:: emily dickinson

Long Legs and Walking with Confidence

Once, when I was nine, I stood in the hallway and admired myself in the mirror. I turned my body left and right, I looked up and down. Announcing my conclusions, I raised my voice a little and said to my mother, "Do you see how long my legs are getting?"

"Honey," she said, "your legs are the same length as everyone else's: they reach from your butt to the ground." 

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There is a Far Side comic that shows a boy, book under arm, pushing hard to open the door to his gifted school. The door says, "Pull." 

My mom found this comic printed on a mug and gave it to me as a gift, since (according to the state of California and the name of my school), I was her "gifted child." She usually liked to remind me of this when I did something that demonstrated a lack of common sense. "That's my gifted child!" she would say, smiling. 

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Several months ago my mother and I were laughing on the phone as we remembered that nine-year-old me admiring herself for her long legs. The irony that I aged to be the shortest in my family was not lost on us. We cackled at the memory, and floated from it to others where she had put me in my place with some well-timed quip. I realized that this sort of thing had happened not once or twice, but many times. I brought it up to her, not from hurt feelings but out of curiosity. She said, "I felt that it was part of my mission as your mother to humble you. You always had more than enough self-confidence." 

I always had more than enough self-confidence. Though that would need to be amended slightly to be exactly accurate (e.g., "...as long as it did not involve meeting other children or playing basketball"), it is basically true. I always have had at least enough self-confidence, especially in the classroom. Some people were made for assignments and standardized tests. I am one of those people. I was the child who felt it cruelly unfair that the state tests did not award me a 100th percentile ranking even though I had answered every question correctly, and my mother's explanations that they didn't give anyone that ranking was only a small consolation. I saw a list of "99"s as a list of imperfections. No reason for snobbery at all.

85, 95, 99% ?!  Woe is me!

I always expected to be the top of my class. And when I was at the top of my class I didn't feel any special sort of pride; I rather it took for granted, as ordinary reality. I felt no more pride at being the top student than I did in being a resident of the state of California. It's just where I was. As I advanced in my education, being the best became harder until it became being among the best, as in college. By the time I got to my masters degree, I had matured enough that being the best, or among the best, didn't come to mind. (Though keeping that spotless 4.0 was still a priority.) Still, there was never any question about if I could successfully complete an M.Div. degree. Of course I could. Of course I would. Of course! 

I always had more than enough self-confidence. 

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Doing doctoral studies is the sort of thing that when people find out you're doing it they are somehow compelled by social or natural forces to utter some words of awe. The raised eyebrows, perhaps a whistle or the slow nodding, words like "Wow!" or "I could never do something like that," or "They don't just give those things away." Almost without fail, people react by acting impressed. This makes me quite uncomfortable, very eager to downplay the entire enterprise or to ridicule myself. "Don't be too impressed yet," I warn, "I haven't got the degree yet!" Or, as if I were jabbing them jocularly in the ribs, I say, "Well, what can I say? I'm just a nerd. We'll see how it goes." 

Except that all my hemming and hawing is not mere empty social posturing (which I dislike very much). It does, rather, betray that I actually do not have self-confidence on this point. I have self-doubt. I seriously doubt if I can successfully complete a PhD. Maybe I'm too naive, or too ignorant, or too dull, or too lazy, or too busy, or too faithless. I'm probably "too" something, and I probably don't have what it takes to finish. Resigning from my job and enrolling in this pricey degree may have been an expensive and career-fatal move, perhaps one of the dumbest life decisions I've made. 

But perhaps not. Likely it is a Fatherly invitation, part of God's mission to humble me. Probably it is God's schoolroom for me wherein I might learn humility and faithfulness, to trust Him whatever, neverminding the settled sense of unease. I am, after all, His "gifted child." ;)

So I go forward, resolving to no longer waver uncertainly in my speech about this doctoral degree, receiving the fear as an invitation to trust and obey, ignoring the self-centered folly which counsels me to give up, and walking confidently under the direction of His dreams within me. Walking--despite these short legs!

near Lake Superior in July past

The thunder was the test of You,
dropping from heaven in heavy bursts.
Ravenous lightning licking up the sky
was the test of You and me
and if I could find peace in a
Man who stood up to storms and
hushed the savage wind.

I'd paid $400 for this nylon wrapper
that lit up like a candle flame
with each electric bolt from above.
My scattered belongings
and my weak heart were illuminated
and tired from wrestling
the elements inside and out.

Was it four hours I spent walking the beach
in the half-dark, the cold quiet
of midnightness? Time had passed slowly,
choked down to a gasp by the panic
in my bowels. I heard an urgent message
that all was not well--- there was doom
behind the midnight silence!

But You convinced me to lie down,
to lie down and take it, to lie down and
hear the urgent message slip away into the
sand of Lake Superior. I laid down in that
false candlelit cave and the panic in my gut
ran down from hysterical skies as wind,
as rain, as thunder, as lightning.

To choose and live with courage

I've had occasion to reconsider my decision to leave my pastoral position in Oregon and remain in Michigan for PhD studies. Often I've wondered if I've made the wrong decision. If I had remained in the original path and gone back to Oregon...

...I would be in Oregon right now. Back home at last!

...I would be moving into a bigger house, not into my in-laws' basement.

...I would be buying that new couch I've wanted for the last 6 years.

...I would finally be pastoring in a local church-- legitimized as a pastor.

I try to push thoughts like that away, reasoning that I've already decided: pastoring in Oregon is not my reality right now, and

the Land of What Ifs is not a very magical place to live.

But what gives me the most courage lately to embrace this new (financially challenging and professionally uncertain) reality is knowing that courage is needed.

I made a difficult decision, but I made one and now it's mine.

And I can be proud of the fact that in just about every way this is the more difficult path.

There is a reason that the road less travelled has less foot traffic: it's harder to walk there.

Somehow this encourages me, somehow it calls upon the courageous part of me to stand up and to remain standing with resolve. I want to spend my life on hard things; I want to be heroic.

There are much greater heroes in the world than I will ever be, and giving up security to get a doctorate is not among the most self-sacrificing or dangerous acts of history. But it takes a long courage and I believe that doing a brave thing is commendable, and that it is in every way superior to doing no thing. Therefore

to make a courageous decision is in every way superior to making no decision

.

In the end, I may not succeed in this small endeavor of mine, but

if I choose and act courageously have I not triumphed in the world?

She looks brave to me.

She looks brave to me.