The Lost and Forgotten

We were never meant to be happy or free. Our very lives were under the thumb of tyrants, each day being uncertain if it would be our last. Even the simplest mistake resulted in pain and torment. They controlled our every move - our every thought.

We were taught that love was pain, and hope a mere fantasy. God had forsaken us, and prayer was a useless act. Dreams were never meant to come true, and peace was non-existent.

We were the forgotten. The lost. The helpless. Our hearts grew cold and empty, our souls died.

We were the unlovable, the unreachable, the lonely. Trust, faith, love, tears - these concepts were a constant danger to our very existence.

I escaped the tyranny, but could not escape the lessons learned. For years I held onto those beliefs of being forgotten and lost, helpless and unlovable.

Many days I continued to wonder if your escape had been the better option. You escaped both the tyranny and the lessons. You found light by extinguishing yours. You found light, while we continued to live in darkness.

Days turned to months, and then to years. And the darkness remained my only companion.

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For many years I felt like were alone in our struggles. Yes, I had a vague understanding that there were people in the world who had it so much worse, but this was only a small notion, and one where I chose not to put my focus. Perhaps it was because I was simply too young and immature to recognize the world beyond myself. Perhaps I was simply too afraid to open my heart and care. 

It took me a long time to recognize there was a light shining through that darkness. It took me a long time to stop trying to put out that light - to stop being afraid of it. It took me a long time to understand that amid all the pain and suffering, that light had stayed by my side. It took me a long time to understand that I have the power and responsibility to show that light to others. 

Perhaps it was because of this realization that my heart is heavy today. Our world is broken. It has always been broken. And it will continue to be broken because so many people have refused to recognize that they too have this power and responsibility to show this light to others. So many want to lock the door and keep the hurt and lost and helpless away. So many are driven by fear or arrogance. Or both. They claim compassion, but don't truly understand what it means to be compassionate. They claim love, but have no understanding of what it means to love.

I no longer wonder if your escape was the better option. Yes, you escaped the tyranny and the darkness. But I have found something so much better hiding in the darkness - a light. Hope, dreams, love, peace. And I have found a desire to show this light to others, to help people realize they are not alone, or helpless. I have found a desire to truly give compassion and love to those who need it most - to those who were like us, or worse. To those who have that rope around their necks, and cannot find a reason not to let it tighten. To those who stopped believing, or never had a chance to believe. To the lost and forgotten.

Born Again... again

Last night I had the privilege to get some advice and prayers and just have a very nice conversation with a potential friend (and, I only use the term potential friend because of my innate ability to distrust people). During this conversation, he asked me when I became a "born again Christian." At the time, I explained that I am not one of these people. I have always been a Christian. And, this is true. But, this has me thinking...

Many who claim to be "born again" are people who once did believe in God, and then wandered off the path, finally years later to find that path again. Well, if this is the definition of "born again Christian," then I would have to say that all of us (or, at least, all of us whom are honest with ourselves) are born again. Several times.

Once again, today, as I write this, I find my faith in God dwindling. I find myself veering off that path. I find myself doubting His existence and Word and grace and love. With all the pain and suffering in the world, how can there truly be a loving, caring, merciful God?

Ah, which brings me to another point I must make... a few days ago, someone in one of the google+ communities I'm in told me that God doesn't allow suffering. Well, hate to disagree, but God allows suffering all the time... which is why I at times wonder if there truly is a God. Can you honestly tell me that, for example, a man walking into an elementary school and killing a bunch of Kindergarteners doesn't cause suffering for the friends, family, loved ones, and the nation as a whole? God may not have created this tragedy and suffering, but He did allow it. He supposedly has the power to stop it, but doesn't.

But, back to the topic at hand.

What is a born again Christian? Is it truly simply someone who got lost, then once again found the right path? And if this is the case, aren't we all this way? Don't we all get lost? Don't we all need someone to shepherd us back into the flock?

Of course, sometimes I don't think I want to be shepherded back. I don't want to find that "right" path again, because at the moment, I don't believe it is the right path. It's the easy path (and, I'm sure many will argue that... claiming a path of sin and following the rest of the sinners would be the easy path. The path to God isn't the easy one. Well... I'll save that argument for another post).

Have you ever lost faith? Even if only temporary? Has it ever frightened you?

Lost Child?

Luke 2:49 He said to them, "Why were you searching for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father's house?"

It was either Thanksgiving or Easter, although I can't recall for certain which, about 8 years ago. We were celebrating the holiday as we usually did at my in-laws. We lived only a block from their home. We still do... just in a different house now. Being so close to them makes holidays very easy for us. If my husband is ill, or if the kids, when they were younger, needed naps, we could just run home for a bit.

This is what happened that day. My husband was feeling sick so he had gone home. My youngest, only a year and a half old or so at the time, was in dire need of a nap. So, I brought him home to his dad. After making sure the two of them were settled in, I went back to the festivities. After a couple hours, I decided to go back home to check on them. My husband was sound asleep on the couch. And my son... was missing.

I ran through the house, calling his name, checking in every room, under every bed. If you've ever lost a child, you know the panic that goes through your entire soul. I woke up my husband frantically, then continued on in my search. I finally noticed our back door was slightly open. My heart stopped. My baby had gotten outside. Granted, this is a small town, if anyone had found him they would know who he belonged to. But at that heart-stopping moment, I didn't think of this. Every horrible possibility went through my mind in the blink of an eye.

Finally I saw the flash of gray camouflage - the t-shirt he'd been wearing - in a yard a couple houses away. I screamed his name, running towards him as he stopped and put his arms out to me. I was relieved, and furious, and everything else imaginable. He started crying as I wrapped him in my arms, my own tears falling as I scolded him for leaving the house.

In his broken speech, he let me know that he'd  been trying to go back to Grandma's... he'd been trying to find me.

In Luke 2:41-49, we find Jesus' parents in a similar situation. Jesus had gone missing. Of course, he was 12, not under 2, but the feeling his parents went through, I'm certain was no different than those I experienced. After searching for him, they finally found him in a temple. His mother scolded him... "Child, why have you treated us like this? Look, your father and I have been searching for you in great anxiety."

His response to her was  "Why were you searching for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father's house?"

There is such an innocence that can be found in that response... a simple logic that can only come from a child. In both my own experience, and in this scripture, the children couldn't understand the parents' reaction - after all, in my son's case - he was trying to find his mom; and in Jesus' case - he went to his Father's house.

Of course, in those days, a 12 year old boy was almost a man. He was maturing, and understanding more of what was expected of him. And in Jesus' case, he was beginning to understand his purpose. He understood that while Joseph was his earthly father, God was his father. And to learn what it was he was doing - that he was sitting with teachers, learning and asking questions - this shows a wisdom I don't think any of us would ever expect or see in our own 12 year old children.

You see two parents who are quite normal - even to the point of freaking out when their child goes missing. But then you see a 12 year old Jesus who is showing he is not normal. Or at least, not normal in the eyes of his parents and the temple teachers.

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If you think about this story metaphorically...(or perhaps as it's intended... what do I know)...

As parents, we see our children's paths a certain way. We believe they will follow us, or at least follow where we want them to go. However, as most parents have come to find, this is often not the case. Children have their own path. They find their own path home. But, like most of us, this path to their own true home is what they're seeking, and the road they're taking. We can either nurture that, or fight it... but, I've come to learn that fighting it doesn't work all that well.

Where is My Stronghold?

Have you ever had a period in your life where you felt utterly lost? Completely abandoned? Perhaps it was as a child, or as you grew old. Perhaps it was because of the death of a loved one, or hearing your own life would soon be ending, or some tragedy which occurred.

It's safe to say nearly all of us have most likely been through some experience which has left us sad, depressed, empty inside, and/or lost. Our emotions hit an all time low, which often affects the physical side of us, but also quite often affects us spiritually. We will often seek out help - to a degree - from God, but we feel abandoned by Him. We pray and beg and to no avail. God doesn't listen to us.

In Psalms 9:10, it says that He will not forsake us. And yet, time and again He seems to do just that. I cannot begin to count the number of times I have thought He has abandoned me. I cannot begin to count the number of times I have given up on believing in Him. I have sought Him out, and He has ignored my pleas. It begins to make a person doubt this God even exists.

Psalm 34:17-18 - The righteous cry out, and the LORD hears them; he delivers them from all their troubles. The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

Perhaps I am simply not righteous? Perhaps this is why I am never delivered from my troubles. There must be a reason, because the Lord has not saved this person whom is crushed in spirit. He continues to break my spirit more each day, to the point I cannot handle any more. Where is this Lord whom is supposed to be my stronghold - whom is to save this crushed spirit?

Matthew 11:28 - “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.

Could it be that we are not given this rest from our burdens until we die? If this is the case, it is no wonder that so many people commit suicide. Those who suffer torture and loss and torment so often get to the point where their waking hours are spent praying for that rest. Is it any wonder?

In case you haven't noticed yet, this really isn't a sermon. If it was, I would be telling you to lay your burdens at Jesus' feet and all will be well. The Lord will help you with your problems and worries. But no matter what my intentions of this blog site may be, being a liar is not an option. To say that should you give your worries to the Lord, all will be well - this may or may not be true. It is not true for me. I have been laying my troubles out before the Lord, asking and requesting and pleading and begging for rest and refuge, for over 30 years now. And in answer, I get more troubles.

So rather than post a sermon, I post a question (or two) - does God truly help some people with their burdens? How does one go about asking for this help? What is it I am doing wrong?