Leaning on my own understanding

Well you were reading between the lines, weren't you, Lord?

I suppose that's not strictly accurate, is it, as you are the One from whom no secrets are hidden... so I can never be oblique with you. Yesterday I said that I wasn't going to ask why my life continues to be strewn with large boulders to climb over, but you know me better than that. You know me so well that you understand the subtext for all those times when I answer 'How are you?' with a grumpy, 'Fine'. You know me so well that you know the agenda when I scowl and say 'Alright then'. 

You made me. 

So yesterday I don't ask 'Why?' and today you explain to me.

My daily devotional email today was on the text:

'Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.'
Proverbs 3:5-6

Rick Warren, he of 'The Purpose Driven Life' said this:

'...understanding is not a requirement for you to start down the path (that God sets before you).'

So it's not surprising that I don't know where I am, let alone where I'm going. Your timing is just perfect, isn't it? I needed to hear these very words today. 

'The path of the righteous is like the first gleam of dawn, shining brighter till the full light of day.'
Proverbs 4:18

Maybe one day I'll see the full picture. Maybe one day I'll see the other side of the tapestry and not just the messy ends of the threads. Maybe one day I'll understand why the pattern on my carpet is one of anxiety and confusion at the moment.

I'm waiting for my 'gleam of dawn'. Like the first time I notice that the days are getting longer in Spring and it feels as if a long, long, winter is finally receding. Like being exhausted and lonely in the night when you're awake for hours with a newborn baby and suddenly you notice that it's dawn and morning is coming. It's the spark of hope.

Rick tells me to be patient. I need to have patience. You know what you're doing. I know you know what you're doing. It just frustrates me sometimes that I don't know what you're doing. I know that you want what's best for me, and I know that you want what's best for my family too, and family at Church as well as we struggle to grow and plan for the future.

I know that you have a Plan. I know that you are Almighty God and you can see the end from the beginning where I can only look backwards and see how far I've come - the path in front only seems to appear after I've taken a scary step into nothing.

I'm trying to trust you. I'm trying, honestly. It's just that those steps take it out of me. I find myself groping in the darkness and reaching for a handrail; sometimes I find that I grab hold of your hand and sometimes I can't feel it there. Sometimes my steps feel safe and sometimes it's as if the ground crumbles under me.  I believe that you'll catch me when I fall. I do.

'...all the things that make you ask 'why?' - one day all will be clear in the light of God's love.'

says Rick. So because I'm the sort of person who likes to have things sewn up - I am thinking that sometime there'll come a day when I'll understand. All will become clear. I just have to learn to live without that clarity now.

I need to live with the murk. To put one foot in front of the other not knowing what I might tread in, so to speak.  For you're there too.

I'm finding it hard, Lord. Even when I don't ask why I'm wondering why. I'm also wondering what, whether, how much, for how long, and when will it end. When things are going my way I don't wonder those things half so much, do I?

'Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.'Proverbs 3:5-6

Well, leaning on my understanding is like leaning on an open door. I fall over. Or I spin around grabbing for things and finding nothing to hold onto and I'm all off balance so I make a big fuss.

Submit? Sigh. Do I have an alternative?

Thought not. 

Tell you what, I'll do my best to submit, and you come across with the straight path. Does that work for you? 

You said so, so I guess it does.

It's a deal.

I trust you.

(Edited and reposted from June 2011. The more things change, the more they stay the same, hey?)

A gentle answer turns away wrath...

Aaaagghh.

Oh, hello God.

I am cross. I am scowling. My shoulders are tense. If I wasn't typing my fists would be clenched.

Everything in my world is conspiring to annoy me. Someone is going to get a piece of my mind, as they say. If the children don't settle to sleep soon, it's going to be them.

I read this, the other day:

'A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger.'

Proverbs 15:1

That might be the case. I'm sure it is. If you say it is, then it is. Sorry. I'm sounding very crabby, aren't I?

It's just that it's hard sometimes. (Crabby, and now whiny.) It's hard not to retaliate, to snap back when someone snaps at you. It's hard not to be sarcastic. My mum has always said that if I can't think of anything nice to say, then I shouldn't say anything at all, but that is also not easy. It's very hard to maintain a dignified silence, sometimes. Jesus, when you were around here, did you ever get so fed up with people that you wanted to shout at them? Point out their shortcomings? Get them off your back? Put them down?

I don't suppose you did, did you?

I do. Often. Usually with my family. When I feel that people aren't doing what they should do, when my children won't co-operate, when they come up with a million reasons why they can't do as they're told - that's when I get a bit snippy. There's no merit in being able to silence a small child with nasty words, is there? No prize for stirring up a husband's temper by being sharp and critical?

Oh dear.

You see, I'm good with words. Sometimes. I think in words and I can usually make them do what I want. It's very satisfying and it's a gift that I love. I have a need to express myself and for the most part that's a good thing. But occasionally it's bad. I can think quickly and I can articulate my ideas and sadly, the flip side is that I can come out with something really cutting or hurtful if I'm provoked and angry before I can stop myself.

Being a words sort of person has a down side. Several, in fact. I often bore people with long winded explanations or flights of fancy that incorporate imagery or extended metaphors; that's one. Another, and a bigger down side is that I'm nifty with words when it comes to being nasty, as well. I don't blow my own trumpet when I say that I have a way with the cutting phrase. The mean remark. Something quick and cold. I'm not proud of it, and as I get older I try harder and harder not to indulge this side of me.

I say 'indulge', because a gentle answer may well turn away wrath, but a harsh word is so satisfying. Someone winds me up, or irritates me, and carries on doing it, and it is so, so tempting just to say something to shut them up. To wipe the smile off their face.

It's something that I battle with. My two daughters are beautiful, clever, creative, imaginative, wonderful and sometimes endlessly frustrating. A hundred reasons why they can't put away their crayons. A thousand reasons for not cleaning their teeth. A million why they can't settle to sleep at night. How easy is it for Mummy to close their bedroom door abruptly with a sharp word. How often do I come downstairs and after a cool-down period - usually only ten minutes or so - I'm back up there feeling remorseful and hoping they're not asleep yet so that I can put the record straight with a cuddle. How many times have my crossness at teeth-cleaning time only served to make Katy clamp her lips closed more firmly?

Words are my friends and also sometimes they turn on me.

'A gentle answer turns away wrath'. It does. I used to work in a busy clinic at a hospital and when people had to wait for their appointment they were often angry and critical. I found that an explanation and apology given gently and honestly diffused a situation where meeting their anger head on with defensiveness led to a bigger explosion. It's so much easier with people I don't know. Somehow it's here at home that it's hardest to handle conflict.

There have been flash points in conversations sometimes in this neck of the woods where the whole evening ahead hinges on a gentle answer...or a harsh word. There have been times when no sooner are the harsh words out of my mouth than I wish that I could take them back and replace them with the gentle answer. Wrong choice. Was it worth it, to get that off my chest, that sharp remark that I just couldn't bite back?  Nope. Too late... so much harder to pick up the pieces than never to smash it in the first place.

It's a temptation. For a brief, fleeting second, it's good to hurt. The darkest side of me that hits out when upset or wounded or furious wants to land a good punch.  Some people would throw one physically, but I might just lob in a bit of sarcasm or a cutting comment. There. How do you feel now?

You know all this. You made me this way! (See? It's your fault). You've seen me in action on numerous occasions. You've also seen the times when I do manage to control myself and bite back the bitterness or the rage. Those times aren't as numerous as I'd like them to be, Father. I want to be someone known for her gentleness and her encouragement, not the hurtful stuff. And I want to be known that way in my own house. It's said that you always hurt the ones you love; I think that's the case. The people that I love so much that I would die for, the ones that I spend all my time with, the ones that see me at my best and worst - they are the ones who bear the brunt of the overtired me, or the irritable me, or the hormonal me. Bless them, Lord, for their patience and forgiveness.

I read this verse from Proverbs and I didn't like it much. I didn't like it because I know that far too many harsh words come from me, and nowhere near enough gentle ones. Help me, Father. One of the fruits of the Spirit is self-control, and I need more, please. Lots more. I want to build people up, to instil confidence and contentment, not tear down self esteem and bring fear and uncertainty.

I don't like to admit any of this. It's fairly easy to hide from the outside world, but you know, don't you, Lord. I'm needing some help with it all. Forgive me all the times that I get it wrong, Father. Heal the wounds that I leave behind me when I say things that are harsh. Help me do it all so much better.

More gentleness, please, less harshness. More wrath turned away, please, and less anger. More massaging and less stirring. Building up, not tearing down.

And for now, I'm going upstairs to see my children, who have kept quiet since I left them in no uncertain terms that I didn't expect to hear from them again tonight. Elizabeth's little face was sad when I snapped at her. I'm hoping they're not asleep yet as I want to give them hugs and kisses and snuggle them down and wish them good night with gentle words.

Leaning on my own understanding

Well you were reading between the lines alright, weren't you, Lord? 

I suppose that's not strictly accurate, is it, as you are the One from whom no secrets are hidden... so one can never be oblique with you. Yesterday I said that I wasn't going to ask why my life continues to be strewn with large boulders to climb over, but you know me better than that. You know me so well that you understand the subtext for all those times when I answer the 'how are you's with 'fine'. You know me so well that you know the agenda when I scowl and say 'Alright then'. 

You made me. 

So yesterday I don't ask 'Why?' and today you explain to me.

My daily devotional email today was on the text:

'Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.'

Proverbs 3:5-6

Rick Warren, he of 'The Purpose Driven Life' which we're working through in our home group if I could only keep up with the reading, goes on to say:

'...understanding is not a requirement for you to start down the path (that God sets before you).'

So it's not surprising that I don't know where I am, let alone where I'm going. Your timing is just perfect, isn't it? I needed to hear these very words today. 

'The path of the righteous is like the first gleam of dawn, shining brighter till the full light of day.'

Proverbs 4:18

Maybe one day I'll see the full picture. Maybe one day I'll see the other side of the tapestry and not just the messy ends of the threads. Maybe one day I'll understand why the pattern on my carpet is one of unrelieved gloom at the moment. (See 'Carpet Diem', 20.1.2011)

I love the 'gleam of dawn'. Like the first time I notice that the days are getting longer in Spring and it feels as if winter is finally receding. Like being exhausted and lonely in the night when you're awake for hours with a newborn baby and suddenly you notice that it's dawn and morning is coming. It's the spark of hope.

Rick tells me to be patient. I need to have patience. You know what you're doing. I know you know what you're doing. It just frustrates me sometimes that I don't know what you're doing. I know that you want what's best for me, and I know that you want what's best for my family too. I know that you have a Plan. I know that you can see the end from the beginning where I can only look backwards and see how far I've come - the path in front only seems to appear after I've taken a step into nothing.

I'm trying to trust you. I'm trying, honestly. It's just that those steps take it out of me. I find myself groping in the darkness and reaching for a handrail; sometimes I find that I grab hold of your hand and sometimes I can't feel it there. Sometimes my steps feel safe and sometimes it's as if the ground crumbles under me.  I believe that you'll catch me when I fall. I do.

'...all the things that make you ask 'why?' - one day all will be clear in the light of God's love.'

says Rick. So because I'm the sort of person who likes to have things sewn up - I am thinking that sometime there'll come a day when I'll understand. All will become clear. I just have to learn to live without that clarity now. I need to live with the murk. To put one foot in front of the other not knowing what I might tread in, so to speak.  For you're there too.

I'm finding it hard, Lord. Even when I don't ask why I'm wondering why. I'm also wondering what, whether, how much, for how long, and when will it end. When things are going my way I don't wonder those things half so much, do I?

'Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.'

Well, leaning on my understanding is like leaning on an open door. I fall over. Or I spin around grabbing for things and finding nothing to hold onto and so I make a big fuss.  Submit? Sigh. Do I have an alternative?

Thought not. 

Tell you what, I'll do my best to submit, and you come across with the straight path. Does that work for you? 

You said so, so I guess it does.

It's a deal.