Two Simple but Powerful Words -- But Jesus

From Mel Gibson's "Passion of the Christ"

Recently, I spoke at our women’s bible study on The Woman Caught in the Act of Adultery in John 8 (click here, if you’d like to listen to it), and two words keep coming back to me, as the weeks have passed. I have been reciting them to myself, asking the Lord to show me how to trust these words and Him, as I live and love.

But Jesus …

The woman caught in the act of adultery stood condemned. She was outwardly condemned as others looked down on her for what she did, with plans to stone her, and I’m pretty sure inwardly condemned, as she looked in at her choices.

The word condemnation has a critical overtone. A harsh, humiliating, demeaning, feel that says, “you’re wrong. You’re bad. You’ve failed.”

When I stand in the sand with this woman, I can relate.  Maybe you can, too. Different circumstances, different choices, different stories, but similar experiences of condemnation with resulting shame.

Condemnation will come in this life. I don't like it, but it will.

Sometimes others judge us, belittle us, tell us verbally or non-verbally, that we are worthless. We may have been treated harshly, been humiliated and been hurt because of the judging actions of others.

Sometimes we condemn ourselves. Filled with shame and guilt over choices that we’ve made, we hold ourselves captive to condemnation.

And sometimes we experience condemnation from the evil one. He tries to put us down and tempt us to hopelessness. He wants us to think that we are too much, too late, and too far gone.

Condemnation will come in this life -- but Jesus ...

The woman in this story is dragged in to the presence of Jesus, and a crowd of onlookers.  The religious leaders are using her as bait to trap Jesus; they don’t care about her.  Jesus knows that, and he does the unexpected. He turns things upside down.  He is radically different, extremely different!

“But Jesus bent down and started to write on the ground with His finger.”  (John 8:6b).

In an amazing act of compassion and care, all eyes went to Jesus and off of her. 

Why does He do that? I can’t be sure, maybe that just how Jesus is; He gave her the gift of relief.  Shortly after that in the story, He would give her an even greater relief, the gift of freedom and forgiveness, when he said to her, “… neither do I condemn you. Go now, and leave your life of sin.” (John 8:11).

He does the same for us.  Outwardly, others may put us down. Inwardly, we may put ourselves down, but Jesus …

Two simple but profound words that we can remember and rehearse when the world closes in -- but Jesus.

I would like to share with you what I read at the end of the lesson that day.  I don’t know where you are today, but maybe you are in need of a reminder that you are seen by the Lover of your Soul,  and that He is here for you, willing to give you relief and freedom.

Others may put you down for what you’ve done or not done, but Jesus … He stands for you, and is here to help you.

You may put yourself down, but Jesus … He loves you.

Others may treat you like trash, but Jesus … He sees you as a treasure.

Others may use you like an object, but Jesus … to Him you are a person, with great value.

You may feel poorly about yourself, but Jesus … You matter to Him.

You may feel abandoned and rejected,  but Jesus … He will never leave you nor forsake you.

You may feel alone, but Jesus … He is present and embraces you.

You may feel like you are mistake rather than made a mistake, but Jesus … He does not shame you, making you feel like you are a mistake. He created you and made you for a purpose.

You may feel humiliated, but Jesus … He does not humiliate you, He holds you.

You may be unjustly judged, but Jesus ... He sees and knows all.

You may have lost your way, and are scared that you’ll never find your way, but Jesus … despite our problems and our mistakes, He shows us the way to walk with Him. 

You may feel hopeless, but Jesus ... He gives us hope. He is our hope!

You may feel like a ‘nobody,’ but Jesus …  He thinks your somebody, somebody important enough to die for.

But Jesus -- But Jesus --But Jesus

My P.S. to Another Mother's Post (She wrote: A Message to Manhattan Moms Who See my Special Needs Child as a Disney Fast Pass)

Here's a picture of my gang, years ago.  So proud of them!

I wasn’t going to post today. Truth is, I’ve been feeling a little bit down-on-the-dumps (as my littlest one, would say).  I won’t get in to the details, but suffice it to say, being a mom of a child with special needs can be heart wrenching sometimes, and today was one of those times.

I logged in to Facebook for a moment to check on some friends.  Scrolling through, I read a post from my friend Jennie, who commented about a blog posting.

The blogger wrote a post titled A Message to Manhattan Moms Who See My Special Needs Child as a Disney Fast Pass  (click here) . In her post, she refers to an article, (click here)  titled Rich Manhattan moms hire handicapped tour guides so kids can cut lines at Disney World. 

People with disabilities are given special passes at Disney, that allow them to go to the front of the line, at different rides. Apparently, wealthy moms in Manhattan are hiring disabled people to escort them through Disney, so that the moms don't have to wait in line with their own kids, and the kids get to go right to the front.  

I know, sad. Actually more than sad.

Pathetic.  Rude. Disgusting.  Maddening. Sick. Incomprehensible. 

I had to scrape myself off the ceiling before putting my fingers to the keys, to write this post.  

I’m almost left speechless, but not totally.

The author of the blog post wrote an admirable response, (click here, again. If you didn’t read it up top … you really should), and I’d just like to add a post script to it:

P.S. Dear Entitled Manhattan Moms:

This may come as a surprise to you, but I feel sorry for you. 

Waiting is hard, isn't it? I can relate. Waiting in a line is hard work. Standing around, wondering when you're going to get to the front, getting tired, thirsty, maybe even hungry.  I mean, we've got things to do, places to go, people to see.  

I can relate to the strain of waiting.  I don’t like to wait in a line, but even more so, I don’t like to wait in life.

I didn’t like waiting in the waiting room, when I brought my son at the age of 8 months old to the ‘pre-mature baby clinic’ to see if he was developing appropriately. He wasn’t. I was told he had Cerebral Palsy.

I didn’t like waiting in too many to count doctor’s offices to see if he needed more surgeries. He did. Often.

I didn’t like waiting in therapy sessions (for 18 years total), while trying to entertain my other children, teaching them how to wait.

I didn’t like waiting in long educational meetings to see if my son would qualify for assistance. He did.

I didn’t like waiting for a phone call from his preschool, wondering if he made it through the day, without crying.

I didn’t like waiting to hear if he made a friend or fell again.

I didn’t always like waiting for him to put on his braces and shoes, eat his meal, work on his schoolwork, walk with his cane through a store, or wheel his wheelchair through the zoo.  But I did, encouraging him every step of the way.

Let’s put it this way, I’ve done a lot of waiting and some of that waiting, I’d rather not.

Honey, waiting in a line is nothing compared to the waiting I’ve done, or the waiting that other parents of children with special needs/illnesses or people with special needs/illnesses, have endured.

I’d wait in a line any day.

And as I stand here, with a son who is 19 years old, I’m still waiting. I’m waiting to see what this afternoon holds, what tomorrow holds, what the rest of his life holds.  And I’m waiting, patiently, to see what the Lord is going to continue to do in his life.

It’s not always easy to wait. Actually, it’s hard.

I feel sorry for you. I have compassion for you, because the day will come, I’m almost sure of it, when you won’t be able to buy your way to the front of the line or use someone else who is weaker than you to get your way.

I don’t know when or how, but you will find yourself in the ‘waiting room’ of life, and you just may be sorry that you didn’t use the opportunity to wait in line, to practice patience and perseverance. You may be sorry that you didn’t care for those who needed help, rather than using them to help you. Someday, you may be the one who needs help.

Yes, I feel sorry for you.  But truthfully, I feel even more sorry for your kids. They are watching their mother use others and get what she wants. I hope they learn ‘what not to do,’ by watching you. 

So, the next time you pull out your checkbook or your credit card in order to use someone for the fulfillment of your pleasure, think again.

Some day, and believe me, this day is coming, the Lord will stand in front of you and ask you to give account for your actions.

And I’ll give you a tip -- in His eyes, the first will be last, and the last will be first, and He honors those who honor the least of these. 

Thankfully, He is Not Making It Up As He Goes Along

“Would you like me to read you the story I’m writing, Mom?” my youngest daughter asked me, with a smile on her face.

“I’d love to!” I answered, eager to hear what she had to share, and thrilled that she loved to write.

She read aloud her story about a bear named Snuggliciousness who lived in “Smiles and Giggles” toy store.

(Makes me smile and giggle just thinking about it).

Shortly (very shortly) in to her introduction, she stopped reading and exclaimed, “That’s all I have so far, Mom! What do you think?”

“That’s great,” I cheered.  “Do you know what else you’re going to write?  Have you decided what is going to happen to your big ole’ bear?”

“Nah.  I just make it up as I go along. I have no idea!”

Her words are a ‘pause point’ for me that I’ve been pondering for days.

I am so relieved (and grateful) that the Lord does not make it up as He goes along.

That gives me hope on a day when the story looks unwritten, when the tension is mounting and the ending does not look so great, from my perspective.

I need to remember that He knows every villain and every hero (and every heroine)!  He knows every detail of every moment, every interwoven plot and sub-plot. He knows every lull in the action and every disturbing drama. He knows all the lows and all the highs and every twist and turn.

He knows it all. He’s writing it all. No rough drafts with God. He gets it right, the first time. He doesn’t erase errors. He doesn’t make errors. And He has more than an idea, He has a plan. He has a perfect plan, and allows us to be are part of it.

How many chapters? How many volumes? What’s the Word Count?  I have no idea, but He knows.

And all I know is that I am counting and resting on the truth that He is not making it up as He goes along. 

I may not always understand what the Lord is doing, and I may not even like what He’s writing, but in The End, I know it will be the best story ever.

I Know It's Not About Me (and yet ... He's for Me!)

https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Bible/32836367113

Today, I am worn out and depleted. 

Bone dry and desert weary. Hollowed out.  Sensitive to the touch.  Weak and feeling frail.

I pulled my hair up in to a ponytail and threw on a sweatshirt, ran the kids to school and came home to clean.

I half-heartedly cried out to the Lord, “I need you, Lord! Please help me.”

I checked emails and checked Facebook, instead of checking in with Him first.

I scrolled through postings, when my eye landed on a little sticky-note shaped quote that read -- “It’s not about you.”

What?  This did not feel like help from the Holy One.

 “Yes, Lord, I know it’s not about me. I’m sorry. I just meant that I could really use some …”

My thoughts drifted off.  Probably should be stronger. Probably should be more faith-filled. Probably should be more content. Probably should be peppier. Probably should not ask. Probably should not be so needy.  Probably should not be so self-focused. Probably should not be so pathetic. Probably should not be so weak. Probably should not be so … anything.

The “should and should nots” shrouded me in shame.

I felt worse and worse, until I felt Him.

“My dearly beloved, relax.  Rest. It’s not about you, but it’s for you. I AM for you.”

A soft sigh breathed from my heart. 

I know it's not all about me. I know it's really all about Him. However,  sometimes I get confused and think that means He's not for me.  

As the cloths of shame unravelled and fell at my feet, He replaced them with wrappings of remembrance -- remembrance of who He is, how much He loves and cares for me, and how dear I am to Him.

I'm gradually coming back to life, and trying to get a grip on why I am so depleted and worn out. 

I'm still short on answers, and feeling like I have very little to give, but somehow, I don’t think He’s looking for that from me -- today.  

I think He may be just looking for me to just look at Him.

Falsely Filling in the Blanks (Just Curious -- Anyone Ever Make this Mistake?)

I was hasty, I will admit. And I am not proud of it.

I overheard part of a conversation.

I wasn’t eaves dropping (honest! I wasn’t), I just happened to hear something.

It was crowded in the room.  Lots of people were talking about lots of different things, and all of a sudden, I heard a little bit of this and a little bit of that.

It wasn’t gossip, but it was about something that I was concerned about, and even if it was only a partial story, I didn’t like what I heard.

And before you know it, I filled in the blanks on the parts that I had not heard, and quickly constructed a story in my head.

“This is not good. I’m upset by this,” I said to myself, reflecting on the story that I was certain was true.

I brooded about it for a while.

I cased out scenarios in my head on how to best deal with it.

I puffed and fumed inside my head a bit, too. Just a bit.

And then, I stopped. 

I stopped brooding. I stopped creating cases, and stopped puffing and fuming.

“This is not good,” I now said to myself.  “I do not like what I am hearing myself think!”

The Lord pushed in to my heart and suggested, ever so gently, ever so quietly, that perhaps I did not know everything.  Perhaps I made a mistake. Perhaps I needed to double-check my facts before I went too far.

I called a friend who I knew was in 'the know,' and confidentially and asked her if what I heard, could at all be true.

Turns out, I was guilty.  I was wrong.  I jumped to conclusions. I filled in the blanks, where I had no right to even pick up the pencil.

I repented to her, and I repented to the Lord.

Thankfully, (and to no credit to me) I did not act on what I heard. I would have made a fool of myself and probably, would have hurt someone along the way.

I’d like to say that I always extend grace, judge not and love lavishly.

But try as I will, I fall short. Regrettably. 

So, today, I am humbled, by the weakness of my own ways, but grateful for the Lord who intervened in my heart, showed me the truth and forgave me for my folly.

Proverbs 3:21-22 says, “…preserve sound judgment and discernment, do not let them out of your sight; they will be life for you, an ornament to grace your neck.”

Thank you, Lord, for Your grace.  Please help me to judge less, love more, and seek You first. Help me not to falsely fill in the blanks, but to be wise and discerning in all my ways, trusting in You. Amen.