Lessons from the Sabbatical--October 3, 2013

Today I was confronted with my self-sufficiency and how it impacts the church we serve. This didn’t come from a situation, but as I was allowed time to ponder on something I was reading, I was reminded of a train of thought that I let go of several months ago.

I’m reading a lighter book for me at the moment. You will usually find me breaking a sweat over John Piper or reading through the copious footnotes that go along with John MacArthur, but I was given a book at a retreat and thought I’d give it a try. I’m reading The Well, written by the lead singer of Casting Crowns, Mark Hall. It is surprisingly refreshing but painfully convicting at the same time. Just my kind of book!

The chapter I am on right now is dealing with the hole of resourcefulness, or simply put: When I rely on me and leave God to the side. He talks about this from a personal point—how we tend to run our lives without God—but then links this to the American Church today.

“Our ingrained independence and self-sufficiency make it difficult for us to learn to wait on God, listen for His voice, and submit to His guidance.” –Mark Hall

And that’s when I found myself in the Hole of Resourcefulness. I have no problem showing up on a given Sunday, making coffee, folding bulletins, leading Kids’ Church, making announcements, answering questions, and host of other things while ignoring the One Who Called Me to service. I have fallen into a pattern of serving out of self, but that well runs dry constantly. I am drawing strength from a source that honestly has nothing to give on its own. Sure, I can go through all the motions and answer “fine” whenever someone asks me how I’m doing.

But I’m not fine. I’m tired. And you’re getting served by a woman who took no personal time with God this morning.

The whole thought process took me to Isaiah 29:13.

“Then the Lord said,

‘Because this people draw near with their words
And honor Me with their lip service,
But they remove their hearts far from Me,
And their reverence for Me consists of tradition learned by rote.’”

My pattern of serving solo could easily fit into the “tradition learned by rote”. My ability to sing the words of songs in church while so distracted with things to do can be categorized as “lip service”. I’m just there, taking up a chair, but my heart is so far from the Source of my Strength. It’s not always like this, but lately it’s more the rule than the exception.

Hence another reason for the Sabbatical. It’s not just Trey who needs a rest; it’s me as well. And I need to gain some perspective along the way. It’s only Day 3, but I am already getting so much heart instruction simply because I have the time to be still.

And Today’s lesson is: God may have given you ability and experience to do His work, but you won’t be effective if you leave the Gift Giver behind.

Lessons from the Sabbatical--October 2, 2013

I have trust issues.

Trey and I are part of a small group that meets once a week. It is comprised of people who attend our church. Just 8 people total—and a crowd of children who typically play together in another room. This group just started meeting together a month ago, and I love the people in it.

Tonight, Trey and I got to be guinea pigs of sorts when it came to developing group trust. Whenever you have a small group starting out, trust between the members is vital. The group can only grow when trust is there.

One person stated that it might be a good idea for the group to talk about our sudden decision to go on Sabbatical. Yes, it was a quick decision. It caught us by surprise as well. But members of our group wanted to know why we didn’t come to them with our stress beforehand. I guess I could say that I had barely acknowledged my own stress in ministry until this point.

That aside, this whole question-and-answer time brought to the surface my own problems with trusting others. Having been in ministry for so long and having grown up in a minister’s home, I have seen hurt come from people within the church. Over time, you build up a barrier of sorts to keep people away from the deepest parts of you, because dealing with personal hurt that comes from misplaced trust on top of all the other things you deal with is really just too much.

Or is it?

I sometimes forget that someone has already experienced this level of hurt and lived to tell about it. It would be easy for me to insert an example of Jesus here, but that’s too obvious, so we’ll go instead to Paul. In his second letter to Timothy, chapter 4, Paul is calling by name those who have abandoned him and those who have betrayed his trust. If I were Paul, I’d spend the rest of my letter fuming my state and swearing off all ties with humanity from this point on. It’s just easier that way, not having to deal with the shortcomings of people (myself included).

But Paul does not choose this course of action. In verse 17, he says something so poignant, so unlike my walled-off heart. “But the Lord stood with me and strengthened me….” Paul chose not to look at his hurt, but rather to look at his God. And it is from God that he is given the strength to continue on in his commission.

I do not think there is one person currently attending our church who honestly doesn’t love and care for me and Trey. However, that stops at head knowledge for me. I don’t allow it to transfer to my heart, for that rips at the carefully constructed barrier around my heart. But now that I’ve met Paul in 2 Timothy 4:17, I’m going to start looking to God for the strength to tear down the wall I’ve constructed brick by brick. And maybe then my heart will be more fully open to trusting others.

So today’s lesson in a nutshell: Work on that wall around your heart. Look to God for the strength to move forward in your calling when it seems like your trust has been misused. He’s standing with you.

Lessons from the Sabbatical, October 1, 2013

 

            I had told myself that I would keep a journal of sorts each day of our two-month Sabbatical. We are not only taking a leave from various church responsibilities, but we are also severing all ties with the Facebook community. It just helps to keep the extra “noise” down while we rest in God and seek Him at this time. We are craving fresh lessons.

            Tonight we were treated to a Texas-style dinner from a ministry team that comes up here every year to love on the pastors and wives in the Green Mountain Baptist Association. I can’t count the number of years we have been a part of this, but we have really loved this team’s visits every year.

            Every year they sing a few special songs for us, and this year was no different. As they started the number, the music seemed very quiet. They were using a small CD player for their music, so the volume was limited for this group that was spread out. I noticed one of the ladies looking at the director and trying to catch his eye in a way of telling him that she could not hear the music. So, in true Robyn form, I whispered to Trey, “Go see if you can turn up their music.”

            Well, he looked at me as if I had totally lost it. I was basically asking him to stand up in front of everyone, move to the front of the room, and fill in as sound guy for a group that had not asked for his help. Then Trey, with all the grace he is known to speak with, said to me, “Isn’t this just like us; we see a need and immediately want to jump into action.”

            And I felt God say to me: Sometimes it’s okay to sit back and not act.

            This was a small thing—the adjustment of volume for a visiting group. But I do this with so many things. Jump in before I’m asked to “save the day” so that others can go on with their lives. This can be a blessing to those I’m serving. But it can also be a curse to me over time. In a way, this behavior was learned from my own father, who had an uncanny ability to find the needs in the room with one sweep, and with the other sweep, fix them all. He couldn’t help himself. The last time he came here for a visit, I had to force him away from me as I was folding bulletins at our church (yet another job I swooped in to do many months ago and still am doing to this day).

            It appears I am passing on this blessing/cursing behavior to my own daughter, who also has an ability to survey a room and in a second know who needs a hug or a special word. She is just getting started in her life of “filling the gaps” and “coming to the rescue”.

            I am not in any way saying that serving each other, especially serving the Church, needs to stop. I am saying that in our service we can actually find ourselves like Martha who was “worried and bothered about so many things,” forfeiting “the good part, which will not be taken away from us.”

            As I was reflecting on this (my mind works pretty fast) the words of the song the visiting team was singing finally caught my attention:

Oh the deep, deep love of Jesus,
Vast unmeasured, boundless, free!
Rolling as a mighty ocean in its fullness over me!
Underneath me, all around me, is the current
Of Thy love
Leading onward, leading homeward to
Thy glorious rest above!

Oh the deep, deep love of Jesus,
Spread His praise from shore to shore!
How He loveth, ever loveth, changeth
never, nevermore!
How He watches o'er His loved ones,
died to call them all His own
how for them He intercedeth, watcheth
o'er them from the throne!

Oh the deep, deep love of Jesus,
'Tis a heav'n of heav'ns to me
And it lifts me up to glory, for it lifts me up to Thee!

            And then I felt Him love me! No wonder Mary chose to sit as his feet rather than serve. She chose to be with the One Who Loved Her at the moment His Presence was there. Martha missed the gift of that love by busying herself and seeing it as more important.

            So my lesson from today is this: Sit at His feet. Ignore all the needs for a moment, difficult as that may be, and let Him love you. It won’t be taken away from you.

Closure

Today we received word that the children we had hoped to adopt last year have been told that they have a family adopting them. We have been getting the newsletter from the shelter in Cebu, Philippines, for over a year now and have been waiting to hear an update regarding these children. And there it is. They have a forever family. And it is not ours.

We knew it would not be ours on October 1, 2012, when the call came from our social worker. For the month of October we were numb, fluctuating between intense hurt, bewilderment, bitterness, overwhelming sadness. November and December offered a respite from the pain with all the activity that normally comes with those months. By January we had successfully stuffed our feelings for two months and had convinced ourselves that the grieving process had come to an end.

And then it was decision time. Do we attempt to pick another sibling group from the waiting child list or do we wait to be matched through the Philippine agency? If we went with the first option, it could mean attaching to another set of children only to be rejected again. If we went with the second option, it meant waiting a minimum of three years and still being rejected again. And the tears flowed again.

In the midst of all of this came a time of sifting in our church plant that ended with much hurt, confusion, and no reconciliation, despite all the attempts made. We were distracted again, but this time by more hurt.

Fast-forward to April. We were now on the other side of the sifting, and once again came face-to-face with six months of stuffed pain. I was at a women’s conference in Massachusetts when my emotions could no longer stay in check. Nothing particular was said. It was just a safe place to let loose and cry. And I did. For over a week.

I brought those emotions home to Trey, who was also wrenched with pain, and he cried. And we spent the rest of April this way.

In May we had a crucial decision to make. It was time to renew our home study so that our dossier could remain current in the Philippines. And we hesitated. Trey asked a final question that would inform our decision: We’ve been rejected once; what are the chances it will happen again?

The response: The chances are very strong that it will happen again.

And there we had it. After all the many months of interviews, finding and submitting paperwork, having our lives completely exposed, filling out questionnaires, having our “heads examined” by a psychotherapist, reading about adoption, taking online courses about adoption, spending thousands of dollars, reconfiguring our house to make room for more children, and many more details, it was over. We would never be adopting from the Philippines.

This was a crushing realization. We started this process in January 2011 and it formally ended in May of 2013.

We have questioned whether or not we heard God right. We have doubted our motivations. We have tried to see the “big picture”. We have waited for “all things to come together for the good of those who love God and are called according to His purpose.” We have wondered if we will ever see His purpose in all of this. And we may not. And that’s okay.

What we do know is this: God wants us to impact children. This part of the calling is unchanging. So for now, we will remain faithful to impact children where we are. We also know that eventually we will look in the direction of adopting or fostering again, but this time we will look domestically. More on this decision later.

We are genuinely thankful that the three children we so longed for have a forever family. They are now 15, 13, and 10, and didn’t need to wait another day. This is the best closure we could have hoped for as we have prayed for these children unceasingly throughout the grieving process.

For those of you who have walked this journey with us, we thank you. Thank you for your prayers and understanding and for providing shoulders to cry on and ears to listen when things took a turn no one was expecting. We are surrounded by “safe places”, and for that we are grateful.

We appreciate your continued prayers as we seek daily to do His will.

Heartbreak and Healing

My post today will be a cut-and-paste from a letter I read to our church today. I haven't the energy to write it all out again. Please read (it's rather long), and pray.

Thank you for giving us the time during today’s service to give you an update on our adoption process. It is easier for us to communicate with all of you at once rather than to repeat this information again and again. We come to you with heavy hearts as we received word on Monday evening that the three children we were hoping to adopt would not be matched with us. As of yet, no reason has been given for why this match will not be allowed.

            Last April, a sibling group of 3 was placed “on hold” for us, meaning that while our paperwork was being processed in the Philippines, no one else could adopt them. In June, our dossier was approved by the Inter-Country Adoption Board in the Philippines. We have waited since that time to hear word, preparing our home for the arrival of these three precious children. We had a few communications come from the Philippines, mainly in the form of clarifying questions. Everything was on track to move forward. We were told that all that was left was the “official” referral and a court date.

            We have struggled to understand why or how this happened. We were given assurances by both our Bethany social worker and the liaison between Bethany’s main office and the Philippines that the children were a great match for our family. Both of those individuals are still working towards finding out why the Inter-Country Adoption Board for the Philippines has denied the match. For our part, making assumptions as to why this has happened is counter-productive to the healing process we must go through.

            As our emotions were quite raw for a few days last week, we waited to tell Rachel and Joshua. Joshua’s age has proved to be a great buffer for the hurt that goes along with this news. Rachel, on the other hand, is still processing raw emotions that come with anticipated siblings not making an appearance. We ask that you pray for our children as we continue to work with them through this time.

            As for us, we would ask for your prayers as we navigate uncertain waters regarding adoption. Yes, we still intend to adopt. Yes, we would still like to adopt from the Philippines. No, we don’t know what our next steps will be. Yes, we place our unknown future into the hands of a known God.

            I have taken great comfort in the story of Abraham, who, when God told him it was time to move from all that was familiar to him, also didn’t know what the final destination would be. God simply said, “I will show you.” We know that adoption is God’s choice for our family. We don’t know what the destination will be. And that’s OK.

            I also take great comfort in the midst of this great sorrow, as I walk through prepared rooms in my house that stand ready for children who aren’t coming at this time. My comfort comes from Psalm 34:18: “The LORD is near to the brokenhearted And saves those who are crushed in spirit.” I can tell you that I know what it means to be “crushed”. Rachel knows what it means to be “brokenhearted.” We are all clinging to the promise of God’s nearness at this time.

            We have been so thankful for the prayers and support of this church during the long process of our adoption. It has meant so much as many of you have continually asked us how things are going--if we’ve received word yet. You have rejoiced with us with every little step, and for that we are exceedingly grateful. We desperately need your continued prayers and support at this time.

            Please also pray for James, Venus, and Maricris, the three children we so longed to adopt. Pray that they would have a forever family soon. Pray for their continued healing at the orphanage in which they currently reside. Pray for the children God will match us with in what we hope is the near future.

            Thank you, once again, for being our safe place at this time.

Parting Is Not Always Sorrow

This entry is only slightly related to our upcoming adoption. As we worked to make room in our house for more children, many items got moved to a small storage room connected to our house. That storage room became over-filled, and we were faced with the need to purge items.

Two days ago, I made some of the hardest decisions I’ve ever had to make. You might feel like I’m being a bit over-dramatic when I tell what these decisions had to do with, but if you’ve ever taught in a classroom, you will understand just how difficult these decisions can be.
 

You see, I said good-bye to every piece of paper, every manipulative, every storage bin, every idea book related to my five years as a kindergarten teacher. This was no small task. I spent several hours this past Saturday opening up three large bins, twelve smaller bins, two boxes of books, and three file boxes—all filled with a year’s worth of teaching supplies on the kindergarten level. These items have been sitting in my storage room for the past three years with hardly any use. When we started homeschooling, there was no need for all the worksheets, thematic bins, and large group lessons.

I was actually quite proud of myself as I went through each piece of paper, recalling hundreds of lessons. I had notes from parents, some good and some not so pleasant. I had a journal I had kept during my first year of teaching. I had pictures of students from 2004, when I had my first class (oh, how I loved that first year!). I didn’t cry once, but I did feel the pain as many items went straight to recycling and others went to a bin to be donated. It took many years to collect these items—some of them were collected when I was teaching preschool many years ago. It took just a few hours to part with them.

When I was finished, I was left with two full large bins, ten empty small bins, two boxes of books, and two bags full of Mailbox Magazines to give to a kindergarten teacher at our local public school. We took the donation to her today, and she was very appreciative of the gift. I was happy to see new life breathed into these items and also happy to have freed up much space in my house.

This doesn’t mean I will never teach professionally again. But as I intend to homeschool my children through high school, I don’t see myself returning to it for quite some time. Most of my collected items will be obsolete by then, with new ideas and trends taking over. I might as well let the old items go, to live a little longer in someone else’s classroom.

WARNING: Poor Analogy to Follow

“Take heed, keep on the alert; for you do not know when the appointed time will come. It is like a man away on a journey, who upon leaving his house and putting his slaves in charge, assigning to each one his task, also commanded the doorkeeper to stay on the alert. Therefore, be on the alert—for you do not know when the master of the house is coming, whether in the evening, at midnight, or when the rooster crows, or in the morning— in case he should come suddenly and find you asleep. What I say to you I say to all, ‘Be on the alert!’”  Mark 13:33-37 (NAS)

            I am very aware that this passage is talking about the Christian’s readiness for the second coming of Christ, but I see a lot of parallels between this and our adoption. In just the first verse, we are reminded that “you do not know when the appointed time will come”. Adoptions work completely to the opposite of pregnancies in this regard. With a pregnancy, you are given a “due date”—in my case more of a rough estimate—and you can begin planning with that date in mind. With an adoption, you are basically waiting on papers to be pushed, agencies to coordinate, the stars and planets to align, etc. There is no “due date” given. It’s really just wait for the phone call. That wait can be the most frustrating, heart-wrenching thing you do.

            We are also reminded FOUR times in this passage to “be on (keep on, stay on) the alert.” Continuing my poor analogy, this means for me that Trey and I must learn all we can about international adoptions, make needed changes to our home (see the previous blog), get copious amounts of paperwork pulled together, and pray like crazy. We can never just sit back and wait for the phone call. We must be busy every day preparing for the additions to our family. To refrain from doing so demonstrates a carelessness so tragic, so selfish, that I haven’t the words to express it.

            So no matter how frustrating and heart-wrenching the wait becomes, we press forward. We continue to prepare our home and our hearts. We find things to do in the expectation that the call WILL come, even though we don’t know when. And I am reminded that I must also do the same as I wait for Christ’s return.