Category Archives: Life’s disappointments

Weeping and Wailing

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Fussin'Nobody can holler like a newborn. They make an abrasive noise-pollution sort of sound much like a crow cawing or a cat in fight-mode. Pegging it perfectly is difficult, but new babies all seem to agree on how it should sound.

Parents agree on something, too: that it should stop a.s.a.p.

Baby Isaac celebrates his one week birthday tomorrow, and like all babies, he has his moments of wailing. Diaper changes are his least favorite activity, during which he voices his opinion at full volume. When that happens, even grandmas are distressed by the crying.

It’s not that the noise level is intolerable. Isaac’s three older siblings contribute plenty of that, but it never reaches the fever-pitch of a newborn’s cry. When Isaac is wailing, we wonder if he’s in some serious pain or is in another kind of desperate need.

But we have to continually remind ourselves that newborns don’t have much to offer between silence and full-on screaming. They haven’t learned anything about that middle ground, whining, and certainly can’t use words. Hard-core hollering is the best they can do, and it’s usually overkill in comparison to their needs, i.e. major outbursts over minor problems.

Sometimes I wonder if God views our flare-ups against him the same way. Of course we don’t see it as “screaming” directly at him and might even say, “Heaven forbid I should do such a thing!” But when we loudly object to the circumstances he puts us in (or allows us to be in), he’s probably thinking, “Major outbursts over minor problems.”

Although baby Isaac has nature on his side when he’s hollering over every need, we don’t. As adults, especially Christian adults, we ought to know better than to rail against situations just because they’re not ideal. When frustrations and annoyances come, God is hoping we’ll resist the temptation to object and will square off with our needs responsibly, improving what we can, and accepting what we can’t.

It’s good to know, though, that God doesn’t put a complete ban on crying. He knows we’re emotional beings that need to show our feelings. If we look to Scripture for guidance, we see all kinds of godly people in tears: widows, mothers, fathers, oppressed people, Jeremiah, Job, Mary, Hezekiah, Peter, Esau, David, Paul, and Jesus himself, to name a few. The difference between weeping that’s welcomed by God and wailing that’s not, is the condition of the heart behind it.

???????????????????????????????God’s heart is always tuned in to what’s going on in the hearts of people… all people. Nothing slips past him, and everything matters. That’s why a bout of crying that emanates from a sincere, unselfish heart is a call for help he will always answer.

As for little Isaac, he’s still under the lovely protection of God’s Grace for Newborns and can wail all he wants.

“During the days of Jesus’ life on earth, he offered up prayers and petitions with fervent cries and tears.” (Hebrews 5:7)

Melting the Ice

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???????????????????????????????We in the Midwest continue to experience temperatures far lower than the inside of my food freezer in the basement. Every time I walk Jack, I “hear the snow crunch…” (to quote a popular song). It’s that special sound a sub-zero snow pack makes beneath my boots. But the neighborhood is striking in its winter attire and begs me to run back home for my camera.

Icicle HansSome of winter’s best visuals can be the icicles hang- ing from people’s houses. I remember our children orchestrating sword fights with 4 foot long ones and pleading with me to store bunches of icicles in our freezer for summertime fun.

One year an energetic eight-year-old “planted” rows of straight-up icicles all over the yard, which resembled a sparkling crystal garden. Another winter we made use of smaller icicles as ice cubes in our cold drinks. The refrigerator had died, and while we were shopping for a new one, icicle stir-sticks worked perfectly.

Mega-icicleThis winter, we can boast an icicle to end all icicles. It hangs from the upper corner of our front porch to the ground, a length of about 11 feet. Thirteen inches across at the top, it is absolutely gorgeous, and today I spent time studying it.

I don’t understand how water can melt in order to form icicles when the thermometer reads -10, but drip by drip this once-tiny icicle grew into a massive one. Such slow, steady growth can be a picture of the way other life-buildups can occur, too, such as the subtle way a good relationship can become frosty, little by little.

Small negatives can start to obstruct a friendship, for example, the way a tiny bit of ice clogs a drain pipe. Though the damage isn’t immediately visible, it forms the base-layer for further buildup. Drip, freeze, drip, freeze.

Icicle LinneaIncident upon incident causes increasing blockage until the rapport between two people has become frozen. Eventually others see it too, and suddenly we wonder how such an icy atmosphere was able to build up between us.

God wants us to act warmly toward each other and will never leave us out in the cold. Instead, he’ll take one of two approaches to thaw icy relationships. Either he’ll melt them slowly with the words of Scripture, or he’ll whack the ice down in one fell swoop.

Neighbors have told me I should use a shovel to knock the icicles off my gutters, since they’re heavy and can do permanent damage. Frozen friendships feel heavy, too, and sometimes swift intervention (i.e. a whack) is the only way to begin warming the affections between two people.

PuddleHowever God does it, we do know he wants us to act lovingly toward one another. And just like the warmth of spring will eventually melt our giant icicle, so the breath of God’s Spirit will melt the ice between two people…. every time.

“The Spirit of God has made me, and the breath of the Almighty gives me life.” (Job 33:4)

Flights of Imagination

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???????????????????????????????When I recall my early teen years, I remember that I was often a brat. For example, one day my dad was pacing through the house with a frown on his face, stressed about something at work. In a most inconsiderate way I said, “Dad, you shouldn’t worry about stuff. The Bible says it’s a sin, so you’re committing sin every time you worry.”

I don’t remember his exact response, but at 14, I figured I knew more than he did and walked away thinking I’d delivered the wisdom of the ages. Since then, however, I’ve learned a great deal about worry. First, God doesn’t want us to do it (I had the right idea about that), but second, it can dominate a person anyway, day and night, for weeks at a time.

Recently I’ve worried about a couple of matters to the point of concocting fantasies of worst-case-scenarios. Then I’ve let those imaginary scenes torment me as if they were actually real, especially during the night.

While sharing this with daughter Linnea last week she said, “Mom, God doesn’t give grace to cover our tomorrows or our yesterdays, only our todays.” Of course I knew that, but I hadn’t heard it put quite that way. I’ve repeated that sentence to myself frequently since then, whenever my mind leans into future fantasies.

Frosty windowThen last night as I climbed into bed, I noticed the sub-zero frost outside the window just inches from my pillow. After unrelenting snow and wind for 5 days straight, frosty crystals had formed on the glass next to a ledge of snow, reminding me it was a frigid -16 degrees outside. But I didn’t worry about it. I knew I wouldn’t freeze to death in my sleep, even though the glass was thin, very breakable, and ice-cold to the touch.

How come?

Because my experience has been that windows keep out the weather. So when I slipped under my down blanket, I believed I’d be cozy throughout the night. There was no fantasy about my family finding me frozen to death with a layer of snow covering my stiff body. I had faith in my window.

So why is it so difficult to have faith in God? Since I’ve had plenty of experience with his sufficiency, why can’t I live in my todays without fabricating disasters for my tomorrows?

Son Nelson gave me another helpful quote, this one from Corrie ten Boom: “Worry does not empty tomorrow of its sorrow. It empties today of its strength.” Through harsh worry-experience, I’ve learned the truth of that.

BarricadesOur spiritual enemy, Satan, wants us to turn from trusting God to trusting our fears (and fearful fantasies). When I let myself get caught up worrying, I’ve pleased the devil and have (as C.S.Lewis says) “barricaded my mind against God.” That’s the last thing I want to do!

So tonight as I crawl under the covers, I’m going to let that ice-covered window serve as my reminder to trust in God, not in foolish fantasies.

“Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not be afraid.” (John 14:27)