I've started re-reading Angela Thomas's book, Do You Think I'm Beautiful?.
A strange confession to begin a post with, I know. But, reading through it this time, I have a different perspective now - now as a married woman.
When I was single, even when there was no significant other in the picture, I imagined the adventures and cuddles of marriage and seemed to consider it some sort of higher state of existence.
Then I tried it and found out that it starts to feel a lot like real life very quickly.
Go figure!
Please do not (purposefully or otherwise) misunderstand. I love married life. I love my husband. I would never want to go back to the single years, not even for a trip to Italy (and that's saying something).
But God seems to smile and chuckle when he sees me running around, getting things perfect, with the expectation that everything will then feel perfect.
Because, you know what? On that evening when I most emotionally need my husband to gush over my cooking, that will be the evening that he really isn't hungry.
And, you know what else? On these days when I'm looking forward to having a mini paradise of a Saturday, I'll wake up and find out that something is smack dab in the way of my little (or gigantic) hopes for the day.
And sometimes, I'm ready for my romantic husband to come rushing through the door and sweep me off my feet and out of my doldrums, and instead he comes home more discouraged than I am.
Why?
Not because he's a bad husband.
Not because he's slacking.
Not because he doesn't care anymore.
But because he wasn't made to fill my every need.
He wasn't. That's the bald truth. Oh, I know he would love to! But when I ask him to fill the voids of my heart, I am not just being needy; I am sinning against my husband. I am attempting to body-slam my husband into that space that God specifically put into me with the purpose of creating a yearning that He could then fill! And my husband doesn't fit. Go figure.
BUT -
When God is in His rightful place, then I am not dependent on my husband coming home and haling me a culinary hero.
When God gives me value, I am not reading into everything my husband says and does as an estimation of my worth as a human being.
When God is my Savior, my husband gets to just be my husband.
Now, when I am a whole person without my husband, it's not that all of a sudden I don't like to spend time with him.
Quite the opposite!
We find our sustenance in our Creator and get to enjoy each other as complete individuals, complete with quirks and hobbies and pranks and shared secrets.
When he and I are whole without the other, we save our relationship from the realm of the parasitic. We are no longer loaning crutches to our spouse as we attempt to limp along on one leg ourself; we get to experience healing and then share that healing with each other. Because we no longer NEED each other, we get to enjoy just being ourselves, together.
And that means that on those days when my husband gets a case of the blues, I can be there for him. I get my strength from beyond our marriage, which lets me pour into it and into my husband when there is a deficit.
I don't have to panic because he isn't my emotional life support.
And, you know what? This is still real life. But I am not crabbing for fulfillment from someone who is, in return, looking to me to fill them. That sort of contractual agreement ("I'll make you feel good if you make me feel good") gets empty real quick. But, as a whole human being in a marriage to another whole human being, I get to live real life more fully and with more gusto!
Or, as Mrs. Thomas puts it, "So what about the other [ones we love]? They can be fabulous when your soul is full of the love of God. But they can be devastating when you have expected they could fill up the dry and empty places" (47).
Thursday, February 20, 2014
Friday, February 14, 2014
I Love/Want You
Happy Valentine's Day!
Today never held much significance for me as a single (other than the yummy chocolates from Mom and Dad!), but it is becoming dearer. Today was my first Valentine's waking up in my husband's arms, and I'll tell you, it starts to take on a new significance. I start to get more mushy about the concept. I also start to get more defensive about it, too.
You see, our good old US of A has a way of slanting things, and it hasn't left this holiday alone any more than it's kept its fingers out of Christmas.
It's taken an economic concept and applied it to love.
I'm not going to start going on about how it's all for the greeting cards companies and so on and so forth. That's on the right track, but it doesn't go far enough and so ends up at a conclusive facade.
American love is consumeristic.
We use the word "love" in a manner that more honest people have the dignity to admit is only "want."
Sadly, this version of love does not stop at consuming bouquets and teddy bears and chocolates and cards: it consumes people.
Think about it.
"I love rice."
What I really mean is that I just had rice for lunch and was reminded how much I want to eat rice.
I love inexpensive household goods. Never mind the sweatshop laborers.
I love getting to plan my life. Never mind my children (born or otherwise).
I (conversely) love my children. Never mind my friends, marriages, or monetary limitations.
I love you. . . .
Eep.
Creepy.
Do we really mean love? Or are we thinking more along the lines of the t-shirt for sale in the mall, which reads, "Looking for a meaningful overnight relationship"?
Because we all know what that means. They're looking for a "meaningful overnight relationship."
We use another person's body and think we're doing them a favor because we're not asking them to share their soul. We avoid the messiness of getting personal and think we can get away with it.
News flash: the body and the soul (consciousness) are so intertwined that no theologian or psychologist can tell you where one ends and the other begins. Why? Because God didn't make you half body and half soul - He made you all body and all soul! He never meant for the two to be separate! (Death wasn't part of the original design. But that's a topic for another time.)
And we scoff at the ones who hold out for more than a one-night stand.
Or we don the other t-shirt, the one that blurts, "Cool story, babe. Now go make me a sandwich." Because love is about what you get, right?
Don't tell me that the attitude of the second t-shirt must be love just because it sticks around. While the first consumes, so does the second. One is more like a hit and run. The second is just a slower, more drawn out version, sort of like bleeding to death on the sidewalk. Girls (or guys), if you are treated like a commodity, don't think it's because he loves you. He isn't showing you love; he's showing you bondage.
He can say, "I love you," but does he mean it?
How can you tell? Look at what he does with/to you.
1 Corinthians 13 puts love on a level with faith and hope.
Faith: shown by deeds. Considered illegitimate without the proof of action. Worth nothing unless it makes a substantive difference.
Hope: a powerful force that has no chemical explanation. Kept people alive in concentration camps. Its lack can itself cause disease or even death.
What is love? It definitely can't be summed up by a hormonal rush or a physiological arousal response. It isn't a direction or a place (so you can't fall into or out of it).
When I was learning to love, I was concerned because I didn't know exactly what love was, so I didn't know how to tell if I was actually in love. Silly girl! I was thinking that it was a state rather than an action, a reflexive response rather than a choice.
Mental clarity descended in that loftiest of places - the grocery store aisle - in that loftiest of positions - a grocery store clerk.
As I straightened the candy in Aisle 1, I contemplated the day's joys that I couldn't wait to share over the phone that night. I thought about the disappointments that I always rushed to him before any other human comfort. And I realized that we had love.
We weren't starting with a flimsy platform of feel-good sentiment. We were building something from the ground up while deep in the mire of the every day tumult.
We were creating a relationship that could survive real life because it wasn't based on a fairy tale of feelings.
We were choosing to share ourselves and care for the other. Why? Not because we could get something out of it, but because we wanted to give to the other person.
Love gives; it doesn't take.
That's the difference.
It's a heart issue.
And it makes all the difference.
Today never held much significance for me as a single (other than the yummy chocolates from Mom and Dad!), but it is becoming dearer. Today was my first Valentine's waking up in my husband's arms, and I'll tell you, it starts to take on a new significance. I start to get more mushy about the concept. I also start to get more defensive about it, too.
You see, our good old US of A has a way of slanting things, and it hasn't left this holiday alone any more than it's kept its fingers out of Christmas.
It's taken an economic concept and applied it to love.
I'm not going to start going on about how it's all for the greeting cards companies and so on and so forth. That's on the right track, but it doesn't go far enough and so ends up at a conclusive facade.
American love is consumeristic.
We use the word "love" in a manner that more honest people have the dignity to admit is only "want."
Sadly, this version of love does not stop at consuming bouquets and teddy bears and chocolates and cards: it consumes people.
Think about it.
"I love rice."
What I really mean is that I just had rice for lunch and was reminded how much I want to eat rice.
I love inexpensive household goods. Never mind the sweatshop laborers.
I love getting to plan my life. Never mind my children (born or otherwise).
I (conversely) love my children. Never mind my friends, marriages, or monetary limitations.
I love you. . . .
Eep.
Creepy.
Do we really mean love? Or are we thinking more along the lines of the t-shirt for sale in the mall, which reads, "Looking for a meaningful overnight relationship"?
Because we all know what that means. They're looking for a "
We use another person's body and think we're doing them a favor because we're not asking them to share their soul. We avoid the messiness of getting personal and think we can get away with it.
News flash: the body and the soul (consciousness) are so intertwined that no theologian or psychologist can tell you where one ends and the other begins. Why? Because God didn't make you half body and half soul - He made you all body and all soul! He never meant for the two to be separate! (Death wasn't part of the original design. But that's a topic for another time.)
And we scoff at the ones who hold out for more than a one-night stand.
Or we don the other t-shirt, the one that blurts, "Cool story, babe. Now go make me a sandwich." Because love is about what you get, right?
Don't tell me that the attitude of the second t-shirt must be love just because it sticks around. While the first consumes, so does the second. One is more like a hit and run. The second is just a slower, more drawn out version, sort of like bleeding to death on the sidewalk. Girls (or guys), if you are treated like a commodity, don't think it's because he loves you. He isn't showing you love; he's showing you bondage.
He can say, "I love you," but does he mean it?
How can you tell? Look at what he does with/to you.
1 Corinthians 13 puts love on a level with faith and hope.
Faith: shown by deeds. Considered illegitimate without the proof of action. Worth nothing unless it makes a substantive difference.
Hope: a powerful force that has no chemical explanation. Kept people alive in concentration camps. Its lack can itself cause disease or even death.
What is love? It definitely can't be summed up by a hormonal rush or a physiological arousal response. It isn't a direction or a place (so you can't fall into or out of it).
When I was learning to love, I was concerned because I didn't know exactly what love was, so I didn't know how to tell if I was actually in love. Silly girl! I was thinking that it was a state rather than an action, a reflexive response rather than a choice.
Mental clarity descended in that loftiest of places - the grocery store aisle - in that loftiest of positions - a grocery store clerk.
As I straightened the candy in Aisle 1, I contemplated the day's joys that I couldn't wait to share over the phone that night. I thought about the disappointments that I always rushed to him before any other human comfort. And I realized that we had love.
We weren't starting with a flimsy platform of feel-good sentiment. We were building something from the ground up while deep in the mire of the every day tumult.
We were creating a relationship that could survive real life because it wasn't based on a fairy tale of feelings.
We were choosing to share ourselves and care for the other. Why? Not because we could get something out of it, but because we wanted to give to the other person.
Love gives; it doesn't take.
That's the difference.
It's a heart issue.
And it makes all the difference.
Wednesday, February 5, 2014
Finding Freedom While Working Out
The trainer on today's exercise video said something profound. "It isn't just about the outside."
Now, I don't know her views on faith or the soul, but, hearing these words at the close of an intense workout, I took note.
Have you ever noticed that when you lose control in a particular area of your life, if you stop and look, you will notice little bits of compromises in a host of other areas?
Let's just say, as a hypothetical example, that a person loses control in the area of weight, food, and body image. Look around. I bet you can find similar compromises elsewhere: shortcuts at work, skimping on personal devotions, rote prayers, perfunctory interactions with others, procrastination in chores . . . the list could (hypothetically) go on for a long time.
What's wrong? Is the issue really weight gain?
I'm betting not.
I once read a book which talked about addiction as a "disordered worship." Anything which consumes our thoughts, our emotions, our waking hours, our energies, our resources, may easily morph into an addiction.
Addictions are serious business for anyone. We have a lot of centers in this country where a person can spend a lot of money to get rid of one. How do they do this?
Well, really, they don't. They just redirect that addiction toward a more culturally-acceptable end. You see, they've found that a void will never cure an addict. You can't just take away the substance; you have to replace it.
I believe strongly that Christians are poised to understand addictions more clearly than any secularist ever will. What is it about a person that allows them to "go off the deep end" about anything and prohibits them from ever finding a conservative center?
Worship.
Addiction is a disorder of worship.
God made us to worship Him, to revel in a relationship with Him that fills and satisfies as nothing else ever could. Do you get pleasure in food? Good. Thank Him for it, and realize it is only an hors d'oeuvre of the pleasure found in God. Do you find joy in exercise? Good. Revel in it and allow it to remind you of the abilities He has given you to mirror Him.
This is, I believe, why a loss of self-control in one area ricochets around a person's whole life. When we lose sight of the "why" and the "for" (both of which are found in our Lord), everything gets out of balance.
Which brings me back to the words of the trainer: "It isn't just about the outside."
Yes, I want to feel better by being in shape. But it isn't just the crunch or the sore muscles or the ability to reduce my waistline by a notch in my belt. It's about taking myself and my desires back in hand and offering them once again to the One who gave them.
I could swing from worshiping food to worshiping exercise. I could switch allegiances from eating what sounds good to eating only what will make me slim. But if I do, I'm not actually gaining anything. I'm just moving from one idol to another, and it would only be a matter of time before the second rings as false as the first.
Galatians reminds us, "It is for freedom Christ has set us free. Stand firm, therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery."
Slavery can take many forms, folks.
It can be a slavery to the appetite (whether that appetite is of the gut, of the eyes, of the flesh, etc.); it can also be a slavery to control.
I've had to learn that I don't have to live under a yoke of slavery to the appetite. Really. I don't have to. (Have you ever thought of a fast as an exercise of freedom?)
But, on the other hand, I have to remember that I haven't been set free from my appetites in order to be bound to a life of self-flagellation. God made food, and He made it good! If I forget that and get so caught up in my weight-loss goal that it gets in the way of the joy of God and of life and of others, I haven't actually gained anything but another false master.
Of course, there's the danger that I take my freedom flippantly and distort it into permission to do whatever I want. Galatians talks about that too. The thing is, that isn't really freedom. That's running back into the arms of my appetites and calling them freedom. It doesn't matter what I call them; they will still be my master. Where there is a master, there must be a slave.
So, what to do?
Realize that the only master who will not enslave us is the One who calls us his sons and daughters.
Then, I can fast or feast, and it will all be for the purpose of His joy living in me.
Now that's freedom, folks.
Now, I don't know her views on faith or the soul, but, hearing these words at the close of an intense workout, I took note.
Have you ever noticed that when you lose control in a particular area of your life, if you stop and look, you will notice little bits of compromises in a host of other areas?
Let's just say, as a hypothetical example, that a person loses control in the area of weight, food, and body image. Look around. I bet you can find similar compromises elsewhere: shortcuts at work, skimping on personal devotions, rote prayers, perfunctory interactions with others, procrastination in chores . . . the list could (hypothetically) go on for a long time.
What's wrong? Is the issue really weight gain?
I'm betting not.
I once read a book which talked about addiction as a "disordered worship." Anything which consumes our thoughts, our emotions, our waking hours, our energies, our resources, may easily morph into an addiction.
Addictions are serious business for anyone. We have a lot of centers in this country where a person can spend a lot of money to get rid of one. How do they do this?
Well, really, they don't. They just redirect that addiction toward a more culturally-acceptable end. You see, they've found that a void will never cure an addict. You can't just take away the substance; you have to replace it.
I believe strongly that Christians are poised to understand addictions more clearly than any secularist ever will. What is it about a person that allows them to "go off the deep end" about anything and prohibits them from ever finding a conservative center?
Worship.
Addiction is a disorder of worship.
God made us to worship Him, to revel in a relationship with Him that fills and satisfies as nothing else ever could. Do you get pleasure in food? Good. Thank Him for it, and realize it is only an hors d'oeuvre of the pleasure found in God. Do you find joy in exercise? Good. Revel in it and allow it to remind you of the abilities He has given you to mirror Him.
This is, I believe, why a loss of self-control in one area ricochets around a person's whole life. When we lose sight of the "why" and the "for" (both of which are found in our Lord), everything gets out of balance.
Which brings me back to the words of the trainer: "It isn't just about the outside."
Yes, I want to feel better by being in shape. But it isn't just the crunch or the sore muscles or the ability to reduce my waistline by a notch in my belt. It's about taking myself and my desires back in hand and offering them once again to the One who gave them.
I could swing from worshiping food to worshiping exercise. I could switch allegiances from eating what sounds good to eating only what will make me slim. But if I do, I'm not actually gaining anything. I'm just moving from one idol to another, and it would only be a matter of time before the second rings as false as the first.
Galatians reminds us, "It is for freedom Christ has set us free. Stand firm, therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery."
Slavery can take many forms, folks.
It can be a slavery to the appetite (whether that appetite is of the gut, of the eyes, of the flesh, etc.); it can also be a slavery to control.
I've had to learn that I don't have to live under a yoke of slavery to the appetite. Really. I don't have to. (Have you ever thought of a fast as an exercise of freedom?)
But, on the other hand, I have to remember that I haven't been set free from my appetites in order to be bound to a life of self-flagellation. God made food, and He made it good! If I forget that and get so caught up in my weight-loss goal that it gets in the way of the joy of God and of life and of others, I haven't actually gained anything but another false master.
Of course, there's the danger that I take my freedom flippantly and distort it into permission to do whatever I want. Galatians talks about that too. The thing is, that isn't really freedom. That's running back into the arms of my appetites and calling them freedom. It doesn't matter what I call them; they will still be my master. Where there is a master, there must be a slave.
So, what to do?
Realize that the only master who will not enslave us is the One who calls us his sons and daughters.
Then, I can fast or feast, and it will all be for the purpose of His joy living in me.
Now that's freedom, folks.
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