Mercy!

"Two men went up into the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector.  The Pharisee stood and was praying this to himself: 'God, I thank You that I am not like other people: swindlers, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector.   'I fast twice a week; I pay tithes of all that I get.'  But the tax collector, standing some distance away, was even unwilling to lift up his eyes to heaven, but was beating his breast, saying, 'God, be merciful to me, the sinner!'  I tell you, this man went to his house justified rather than the other; for everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but he who humbles himself will be exalted."   (Luke 18:10-14,  NASU)




Mercy has been on my mind lately, and not so much my need to give it but my desperate need to receive it (though the latter should produce the former).  There are few things like poverty to expose the need for help...and the slow coming of help to expose the utter desperation for mercy!  I've been unemployed only three (3) months now (I say "only" because I'm a relative novice at unemployment, compared to some I know who went for several years without gainful employment recently), and some days this state begins to tear apart my confidence at the seams!  I do have Unemployment Compensation coming in on a weekly basis, and by some miracle we've been able to pare our expenses to the point that our major needs are covered, and only occasional negotiation with creditors is necessary to keep them satisfied.  Still, most mornings I wake up experiencing what Thoreau referred to (for other reasons) as a state of "quiet desperation" that oftentimes these days makes the first thoughts of my mind a prayer to God, "Be merciful to us today God, and help me find work!"

When I was employed, I was not unsympathetic toward those who had lost their jobs; quite the contrary, I'd been there myself on prior occasions, and I knew the pain and frustration of being willing but unable to work.  Unemployment pain is something, once experienced, you swear you'll do everything within your power to never, ever feel again.  I saw my last vocational position as a bit of a personal test; I'd weathered a number of severe disappointments with my position and my employer, and felt I'd successfully proven (to myself, at least) that I had the "stick-to-it-iveness" to have earned a little job security...the freedom to "never, ever" face that ghastly, stomach-knotting emptiness of being out of work.  The circumstances that brought about my job loss were beyond my control, however...unfortunate collisions of past events and circumstances that caught up with one another and produced a unique circumstance under which my employer was not willing to keep me in their employ.  I have no regrets about how that came about...it was also an opportunity for this employer to show mercy themselves toward me, and for whatever reason they chose to not.  But it was not like I was gloating over having a job, then suddenly got my comeuppance...I really worked hard to justify continuing in that position and circumstances tore it away.

Continued unemployment has brought out an ugly side of me, toward my family at home, and toward God in my private thoughts.  Author Dan Allender, in his book "Bold Love," posits an uncomfortable thought when he offers that it is impossible to fully appreciate the mercy of God (which prompts us to love more "boldly") until we "unpackage" our deepest hatred of God for not ordering our worlds more to our liking.  "Hatred of God"?  Long story short, I'm realizing that the irritability and occasional emotional cruelty I show toward my wife for her physical frailty (she has a debilitating genetic disorder) and impatience I demonstrate toward my children at times, is rooted in my rage toward God for allowing the present physical and financial "infirmity" to come about...I rage at them because they're here in front of me.  Though being employed and earning sufficient income is not sufficient to make deep change in the soul, it would take some edge off by eliminating the worry about paying for food and medicine...but that's all it would do, take the edge off!  The ugliness of rage toward God would still be there, simply masked by present comfort.  Without suffering, it could never be exposed.  I've become comfortable with admitting that on a very critical level in my soul, I'm still stained with hatred of God...I take it only on faith in what the Bible tells me, that at my deepest level I'm truly in love with Him (and I suspect that this journey will eventually put me more in touch with that reality).

I am deeply, desperately in need of mercy...and even acknowledging that, most days I want mercy in the form of God giving me back my "cover" so I don't have to look at my ugliness any more.  "Be merciful by giving me a job once again!"  I will work again...I will have an income, we'll eventually get a house, and things will stabilize, and I'll rebuild our savings and my decimated 401(k).  But I've got only one chance to address this particular  test and come through with better character...and fighting against the internal craving for relief, I've decided I don't want to miss it, regardless of how long it must last.  I'm at the point where I'm "beating my breast" like the tax collector who had a long, hard look at himself in the Temple, and responded to God the only way that he knew was appropriate..."be MERCIFUL to me, the sinner!" 

Jumpin' Jehoshaphat!

Anyone who has ever watched Bugs Bunny cartoons (the old Warner Bros. version) on Saturday mornings as a kid would recall Yosemite Sam uttering the classic expression "jumpin' Jehoshaphat!"  It was years later that I learned that there really was a person named Jehoshaphat in history (and there really was an Albuquerque in New Mexico, at which point you could turn left).  Jehoshaphat was one of the "good kings" of Judah during a period of time after the glorious reigns of David and Solomon were over and the kingdom had split into warring factions (Judah and Israel).  Jehoshaphat was considered a "good king" in the sense that he fought hard against his people adopting the idol-worshiping ways of the nations around them, and took steps to nudge them back to faithful worship of the LORD, while he did his best to keep the Law himself.

A time came during his reign that three of the surrounding heathen nations decided to come and raid the nation of Judah, and this news arrived to the ears of Jehoshaphat and sent a deathly chill through him. He wasn't in a position to make war against these powerful nations, and  2 Chronicles 20:3-4 tells us that "Jehoshaphat was afraid and turned his attention to seek the Lord, and proclaimed a fast throughout all Judah.  So Judah gathered together to seek help from the Lord; they even came from all the cities of Judah to seek the Lord." (NASU)

The king and the people of Judah gathered at the Temple of the LORD to pray, lead by Jehoshaphat himself, seeking God's intervention into what most assuredly would be a national disaster if allowed to go unchecked.  In his prayer, Jehoshaphat reminded God that the nations  that were drawing up in battle formation to attack just happened to be the very people groups that God had told the Israelite forefathers to not drive out of the Promised Land when they came in a few centuries before.  Jehoshaphat cried out to the LORD for protection from these rogues, in as much as they seemed to lack a sense of appreciation for the fact that the nation they were attacking was the very one who let those nation's ancestors go on living!

While this was not the first time someone in the Bible was in dire straits and cried out to God for deliverance, Jehoshaphat's closing words of his prayer struck me the other night as I was reading them.  He said, "For we are powerless before this great multitude who are coming against us; nor do we know what to do, but our eyes are on You  " (20:12, NASU).  What a humbling admission! We're powerless and we don't have a clue as to what to do about it!  Have you ever felt just that way?

I'm there right now.  I'm out of work and unable to find a new job.  The circumstances that lead to my unemployment were beyond my control and (frustratingly) beyond my capacity for remediation.  My budget is just barely covered by my unemployment compensation and my wife's fixed income (she is disabled).  Many days I feel depressed, frustrated and angry at God for not stepping in at any point along the way to fix the situation that eventually lead to my unemployment.  I loved my work and the clients I worked with, even though in retrospect I was in kind of a professional "rut."  I have several more severe limitations on my job seeking efforts than I've ever had before.  Most days, I feel powerless...and other than contact potential employers and field resumes...and pray...I don't know what to do to fix my situation.  And maybe that's where God wants me to be.

God knew centuries before that the Ammonites, Moabites and Meunites would eventually bring trouble to the land of Judah, yet He let them remain in the land, probably for that very purpose.  Jesus knew Lazarus was going to die before He arrived in Bethany (John 11), and He stalled his journey there to allow time for the situation to ripen, and Mary and Martha to come to their own point of saying "Lord, we're powerless and don't know what to do!"  No crisis situation that catches us unaware has ever caught Him unaware.

Jehoshaphat finished his plea with the words "...our eyes are on You."  How hard that must have been!  When Peter stepped out of the boat to walk to Jesus on stormy waters (Matthew 14), his eyes were initially on Jesus, but we're told "seeing the wind, he became frightened, and beginning to sink, he cried out,  "Lord, save me!"" (14:30, NASU).  I can't help but wonder whether, when Jehoshaphat prayed "our eyes are on You," there were plenty in the nation of Judah who's eyes were elsewhere: on the gathering armies surrounding them, and on the obviously helpless crowd of people gathered at the Temple, "...all Judah was standing before the Lord, with their infants, their wives and their children  "
(20:13, NASU).  I gather that Jehoshaphat was talking about "spiritual" eyes, perhaps the eyes that Peter stopped using when his physical eyes saw the wind's effects on the seas.  There are two sights, one that sees things as they are, and another that sees beyond things as they are.  I'm not using my second sight well these days.

The LORD responded to Jehoshaphat and the people of Judah through a prophet named Jahaziel.  He offered them a solution that must have seemed insane at the time (and often prophets speaking "in the Spirit" were perceived as insane, entranced or drunk), saying "You need not fight in this battle; station yourselves, stand and see the salvation of the Lord on your behalf, O Judah and Jerusalem.' Do not fear or be dismayed; tomorrow go out to face them, for the Lord is with you" (20:17,NASU).  Judah was instructed to put their best singers out in front of the armies, and sing at the oncoming enemies.  History tells us that God was true to His word, and that the enemies of Judah routed themselves...and when Judah's armies came upon their enemies all they found was thousands and thousands of dead corpses laying on the ground...it took three whole days for the people of Judah to collect all the plunder and spoil!

I don't know whether God is going to come into my problem with a mighty sweep and fix everything the way He delivered the people of Judah, or in the way He reached out and grabbed Peter.  He orchestrated  a tight, life-and-death situation for the people of Judah over a period of centuries, and swept in with a miraculous deliverance.  This same God, in the human form of Jesus, tarried before going to Bethany, so that the Father could get the credit for the miracle the Son did by raising Lazarus from the dead.  I have no assurance that He will necessarily repeat Himself on my behalf in this situation...but I do know that I'm helpless, I don't know what to do, I'm standing here before Him with my disabled wife and totally dependent children...and I need to know what it means to keep my eyes "on Him."  When you're not scared out of your wits, it's easy to come up with some theologically plausible-sounding answer to that question.  When your heart is pounding almost out of your chest, and the dangers around suck your eyeballs out of your skull...it would take a conscious choice of the will to refocus your attention ("eyes") on anything else.

I want to know what that means.  I presume this situation has been set up precisely to provide me the opportunity to find out!

Familiarity breeds contempt for those who are not as familiar

Can you become so familiar with a good truth in the Bible, so as to totally miss it's intent?

I recently was listening to a speaker deliver a sermon on a biblical passage in the Gospel of John, the story where Jesus went to visit a sick friend (Lazarus), but got there too late to save his life.  (You can find the story in John 11).

Lazarus had two sisters tending to him, Mary and Martha, and they'd sent word to Jesus to come quickly and offer a healing touch to their brother, appealing to the fact that Lazarus was someone "whom You love" (v. 3).  This particular Mary was a former prostitute with a deeply stained past as far a Jewish Law was concerned, and a woman who had been greatly honored by Jesus when everyone of influence and position had written her off as worthless trash...she had a deep connection to Jesus.  It must have surprised them greatly when He failed to show on time, and Lazarus passed away.  It must have been even more unnerving (maybe even enraging?) that Jesus finally shows up after the funeral was underway (by this time Lazarus had already been dead and buried in the cave/tomb for four days).  When word came that Jesus was finally on the scene, Martha went to meet him, and shortly afterward called for Mary.

When Mary came to Jesus, she'd obviously brought a few questions that she wanted answered.  Mind you, she still revered Him and loved Him in the purest sense (none of that stupid "Last Temptation of Christ" crap), but she was confused and hurting, probably as much by the death of her brother as by how long it took Jesus to arrive.  Her first words to Jesus were, "Lord, if You had been here, my brother would not have died!"  It's at this point of the story that John tells us that Jesus became "deeply moved in spirit, and was troubled."  In His empathy with those He made and loved, "Jesus wept," though He knew full well He was about to change the whole tone of the funeral by raising Lazarus from the dead (which He did).  The speaker made an excellent point that the true miracle in this story was not that Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead (life and death are the prerogative of God), but that He entered into the pain of His people and joined with them, Creator with creation.  I liked that point (and actually used it when I delivered the opening sermon at my Mom's memorial service some years ago).

It was at this point in the sermon that the speaker shared something that piqued my curiosity...and elicited a response from a few in the audience that made me wince.

The speaker shared that, on several occasions after speaking on this passage in the past, he'd been approached by a few folks who'd been unnerved or irritated by Jesus' seeming reluctance to act in a timely manner, thus causing Mary and Martha unnecessary grief (particularly if He intended to make things better later on).  The speaker related that one woman had met with him immediately after one of his sermons, and protested (rather loudly, I think) "Why did Jesus have to be so mean!"

Several things occurred simultaneously as soon as the speaker related this.  First, my mind went into action, and I wondered to myself what the response from this speaker was.  The woman asking this question must have made some personal connections with Mary's question...'Jesus, you had plenty of warning and knew bad things were going to happen, why didn't You do something!'  The questioning woman probably had experiences in her life when she asked God the same thing, and probably never received a definitive answer directly from God, so she posed the question (albeit, in what might have seemed like personally hostile tones) to this speaker.  That speaker's interpretation of the question and very next response had the power to nudge this woman on one of two courses: toward God or away from Him.  Jesus knew Mary was at the same juncture, and He tailored His response to what she needed from Him most.  He went with her to the tomb, and grieved with her..."Jesus wept."

The second thing that happened simultaneously with my pondering, when the speaker finished his sentence was this:  several in the audience snickered.

When you've grown up among the "churched", you become familiar with biblical stories and basic concepts.  Most of them we "churched' folks learned in Sunday School growing up, and saw illustrated on felt boards with cut-out felt figures representing Adam and Eve, and Moses, and Elijah and Elisha, Jesus and the Disciples, Paul, etc. (though no Sunday School teacher the whole time I was growing up illustrated anything out of Leviticus having to do with "sores that ooze pus", as much as I thought that might be cool!).  Most of us "churched" folks had probably seen this story illustrated on the felt board, too, and knew that Jesus had actually waited extra time before leaving to see His sick friend, because He knew that the Father was going to use this tragedy to strengthen the faith of those who observed the raising of Lazarus from the dead.  Sometimes, when you're familiar with the stories, statements like the woman in the speaker's example seem naive, silly, insolent, outrageous...and maybe on a strictly theological level, it was pretty uninformed.

But on another level, it said something more deeply (I think) about the ones who snickered...they didn't see the comment as anything more than an angry fist-shake at a sovereign God, though I think it could have been more properly taken as a cry for help and an expression of deep fear (even if it was worded more insolently).  The snickers seemed condescending, and I can't help but wonder whether the speaker set up the story to naturally elicit that response...I sort of got the feeling by his response ("Well, some people do feel that way" and "How are you defining 'mean'?) that on some level, he was snickering at her, too.  I could be very wrong, and have misread his intentions of telling this story...but he made no efforts to clarify his remarks after the snickering took place...I hope I'm wrong.  If the snickers were condescending, those folks missed the whole point of the first half of the talk...Jesus' miracle was that He, as omnipotent God, transcended into human frailty to experience the pain of those He loved, though He did not immediately do anything that was expected of Him to remove the pain.  That didn't seem to be the sentiment of those who were snickering.

I wondered still, where that conversation turned after this woman confronted the speaker with that challenging question.  "How could Jesus have been so mean?"  By responding "how are you defining 'mean'?", the speaker wasn't transcending into this woman's story...he was trying to fix her thinking so that it was more "correct," and perhaps he emotions would be less messy to deal with on the spot.  I wonder what that did to the soul of this questioning woman?  Did it reinforce her suspicion that Jesus really was that uncaring and "mean," using the pain of others to bring Himself attention in spite of the seemingly empathic appearance of grief?  Did it further reinforce her fear that the people of God were no more interested in the state of her soul than it appeared Jesus was, when she first started hurting?  This woman, I might add, is a responsible agent for her own thoughts and responses to God...but I wondered whether this teacher of God didn't throw an unnecessary stumbling block into this woman's path to finding God.  And had someone been waiting in line behind her to converse with that speaker, and snickered....

So all this rambling of mine begs the question: how would I have responded?  I won't say, how should the speaker have responded...that's presumptuous.  But here's what I hope I would have had the presence of mind to respond with, in the face of an angry challenge about the goodness of God: "I'm wondering whether you've had some experiences with God, that cause you to identify with Martha's and Mary's pain and frustrations.  Am I right?  This story often touches a raw nerve with folks who have, and I don't have a quick and easy answer for you...but I'd like to hear your story when you've got some time to share it with my undivided attention."  In counseling school, they called that kind of response a "door opener", an indication that the hearer is not "put off" by the way the initial message was delivered, that a more significant but possibly hidden message lay underneath the words that were initially used, and there was willingness to hear the real message borne out at length...not for the purpose of fixing anything (until the one sharing actually wants that kind of help) or relieving the hearer's discomfort, but to give room to the "tell-er's" full expression.  That's transcendence...snickering is condescension.  There's a huge difference: one gives life, the other kills.

Death and life are in the power of the tongue, and those who love it will eat its fruit.

 - Proverbs 18:21, NASU

Confessions about something I don't do well...

Those who chase after God hear Him speak, occasionally in a rather pointed way.  This post is about something I'm pretty confident God was saying to me this week, and it's a confession of how poorly I've behaved and why He needed to draw my attention to it.  But first, bear with some digression....

For a number of years I've put the following quote at the bottom (or "signature") of my AOL emails: 

"I believe God made me for a purpose, for China.  But He also made me fast!  And when I run, I feel His pleasure!  To give that up would be to hold Him in contempt!"""" "    - Eric Liddel, "Chariots of Fire "


There are times God speaks, and His words distinctly convey He's taking pleasure in us right at that moment.  Sometimes attention might be directed to "This is My Beloved Son, in Whom I'm well-pleased!" (Matthew 3:17, 17:5), and at that moment we know He is speaking that over us; others have told me He's given them clear impressions of Zephaniah words, "The Lord your God is in your midst, A victorious warrior.  He will exult over you with joy, He will be quiet in His love,  He will rejoice over you with shouts of joy " (3:17).  God is more than merely happy to know us...He shouts and sings in a powerful Warrior voice! 

God was saying something much different to me this week...not that He doesn't see me as a beloved son, or does not love me so much he hums a tune with my name in it when he's happy...but He was pleased to massage a liniment into my heart the other day while I was doing dishes, that began to break up some rough, stoney soil...and here's where the confession begins.

Four years ago, about this time in fact, I graduated from graduate school in Philadelphia, and we were making plans to move back home to the Northwest Ohio area.  At that time, my wonderful wife Shari was in vibrant health and vigor.  We enjoyed getting out to the beautiful walking trailed parks of Pennsylvania, like Valley Forge, or Forbidden Drive in Fairmount Park in Philly...we were an active couple, and our sons had to work to keep up with us!  When we returned to Ohio, we kept active by walking in the lovely parks in the historic Northern Wood County and Southern Lucas County area.  Our sons became accustomed to making elaborate plans and jetting off, all within the span of 5 minutes!  We had boundless energy in every aspect of our marriage relation (including the one that discreet men wink about and smile).

Three years ago, my wife woke up one morning in awful pain, from head to toe but focused in her arms, torso, back and legs.  We thought she might have had a stroke, so we rushed her to the emergency room for evaluation.  After a week of tests and sedatives an muscle relaxants, nothing became apparent and she was released with a diagnosis of Fibromyalgia.  Over the next year, she continued to work, but our activity became slowed by the pain... and the pain worsened over time, and didn't lessen as the medications became more potent.  Two years ago, she finally had to stop working altogether, and became "shut in" at home much of the time, in excruciating pain.  Relief came mostly when the pain spiked and we went to the local ER for stronger pain medication.  When local doctors could yield no explanations for this sudden and intensifying pain disorder, we traveled to the Cleveland Clinic, when a neurological specialist promised with his hand on my wife's hand that he would get to the bottom of this strange condition, no matter what.  Another year later, he finally diagnosed her with a very, very rare genetic disorder in the family of Mitochondrial Disorders, which apparently had lain dormant over generations and finally struck (for whatever reason) at Thanksgiving 2008, and built to the point of crippling her by August 2009.  In November 2010, her pain level was so high that pain management specialists at UTMC implanted a pump in her abdomen that seeps measured dosages of pain medication directly into her spinal column, so as to regulate the pain messages her muscles are sending her brain...and over time, the medication has had to be changed to something dramatically more potent than even Morphine, and the concentration and dosages have been steadily amped up. 

As her husband, I might have been labeled as "strong" at first, but as time went on I knew that was a sham label.  Over time, I began to resent the loss of my once vibrant, active spouse...and I became more sullen and withdrawn at home.  Eventually the US Government recognized her condition as a permanent Disability, but I had yet to come to terms with the permanent loss of an enthusiastic companion.  I was so focused for much of this time on myself and my own loss, I had great difficulty standing in my wife's shoes and grieving for her losses: the ability to walk in the park, to jump in the Jeep and go when she wanted to, the ability to play in the yard with our little man, or walk up and hug our big lug of a son...soon she lost a whole host of choices that most adults take for granted, and her limits usually included watching life through the windows of our apartment or through the screen of her laptop.  Fellowship with others in our social circles began to wane to nil...there were still calls and emails, but genuine "go out and have a good time" events stopped: we just weren't that fun to be with, given our limitations on mobility.  My anger grew into stewing rage, but I was able to keep it socialized for the most part in public; Shari, my wonderful, suffering wife, was experiencing me in my most ugly state at home.  I was there in body, but she was alone in her soul...I was elsewhere, mostly as an immature coping technique.

My freedom to use my job as escape came to an end 3/18/2011.  Through circumstances that are so bizarre that only God could arrange them to happen, I was forced to resign my position as a therapist doing something I absolutely loved...to stay home, care for my wife and sons, and look for a job...and look, and look, and look.  I tried to stay busy by keeping up on professional reading, applying to a doctoral program, applying for professional certifications, reading more, going out running, etc.  One by one, my excellent distraction techniques began to malfunction, and I was "forced" to spend more time in the apartment, staring my poor wife's increasing disability square in the face: I became injured and couldn't run, no one was (or even yet is) returning my calls for jobs, I was denied application to the doctoral program, and other plans for professional development were stalled out by an uncooperative former employer.  To occupy my time during the day, I was left with....my wife.  I became more sullen, angry and enraged...at whom I'm not sure exactly.  At her?  This wasn't her fault, but Shari was an easy target; at God?  He could make things better in an instant if He chose, and occasionally in the Old Testament He altered His plans....so there was a precedent, wasn't there?  I became more distant, my wife's soul was more crushed, our marriage was in shambles...and we were isolated from much of the world to stew in this unhappy state.

Tuesday, I was cooking mashed potatoes, corn and Salisbury steaks for dinner, and while I was peeling the potatoes, this verse slid in and camped in my brain for the rest of the night, and into my fitness walk the next day:
 
"You husbands in the same way, live with your wives in an understanding way, as with someone weaker, since she is a woman; and show her honor as a fellow heir of the grace of life, so that your prayers will not be hindered."   1 Peter 3:7, NASU

This has been a log blog post, and for you hearty souls who've hung in this far, I'm grateful.  I'm going to be meditating on this verse for awhile, and blogging about my impressions for what God would have me repent of, in the way I've been so poorly husbanding my wife over the last few years.  But for tonight, here are a few thoughts:

• "in an understanding way" intrigues me...what must I understand, and how will that new (or reiterated) understanding change how I "live" with her?  Certainly, in many medical and functional ways, my wife fits the bill of being "weaker", and requires a lot of anticipating and satisfying needs, something one can come to resent being responsible for after awhile.  What else must I "understand" to both "live" with her and "show her honor"?
• the sense in which a woman is "weaker" or as older versions say, a "weaker vessel" must in no way detract from the honor of being a "fellow heir of the grace of life," so I'm assuming it's a conditional aspect of being human, a temporary role that must be understood and honored; how often do husbands "understand" the "weaker sex" in a way that enables them to better exploit the weakness, and the whole honoring our "fellow heir of the grace of life" gets trampled under foot?  What if our "fellow heir" isn't making us happy?  Isn't able much of the time to actively make us happy, to reciprocate with equal vigor in terms of practical service?
• the more I isolated, the more of a lone warrior I began to envision myself as...moving on with the important things in life, regardless of the drag caring for my wife was becoming.  I thought that was strength...it really was cowardice!  Granted, seeking God became a challenge for my poor wife, as her pain and disability increased her enthusiasm for many aspects of life diminished, including seeking God.  I was adding to that diminished enthusiasm by adding to her emotional isolation...I didn't see her as my "fellow" any more than a nursing home aid sees the patients she serves as peers; they're people you spend time caring for and cleaning up and dressing...then you go back to your real life.  That was the kind of husband I'd degenerated to.

So last night, after the boys were in bed, I sat on the couch and shared these thoughts with my lovely, hurting wife.  She hadn't heard self-deprecating words from me much in the last few years, unless they were grudgingly given (a habit I hope to change as the stony soil in my heart softens).  We didn't weep together or experience any monumental shift...but something moved, because of my movement toward accepting responsibility for my sin and being open to let this passage re-shape my soul over however many more months and years we have together.  I've been thinking about it today, as I was out with my boys.  I discussed it with my older son at an appropriate level of detail, and explained that this is why his dad was wrong to be so grouchy and gruff with his mother (a habit, I'm sad to say, he occasionally emulates as he relates to his mom).  And I have even fallen back into old habits already today, and had to be reminded of the "Peter verse" by the woman I had hoped to be treating markedly better by now.  I'm an idolater who has watched his totem idol be burned to the ground, and now I'm called to a pure form of worship...to worship God by loving the woman he gave to me as He loves her...right now I suck at it!  If He has His way with me, I'll suck at it less as time goes on, and eventually begin to look like Him while doing it.

I will muse more about this topic, and that verse, in later posts.  If ANYONE else reads these things, you're welcome to comment on the theology of the passages, your own experience with this kind of struggle, or what God has done for you while you're farther ahead on the path to maturity than I am.  Thanks again, if you've lasted this long!  Love you all......Scott