Tilting at Windmills

The desire rises.

Lapping against the bulwarks

—structures designed to buy time—

until it finds the cracks. 

Trickling, pouring, flooding, it picks me up and throws me.

To resist is to drown.

The desire—for travel, distance, to put miles between me and all this.

To hear a different water lapping, crashing.

To look up at points of light, long looked to for navigation.

To ponder and solve the cosmic questions, problems of grandeur.

To forever leave the mundane behind.

Longing for grand adventure and challenges,

whilst drowning in the common.

Would that I could see the windmills afresh,

and tilt once more!

But, alas, (and woe to us!) this world crushes

grinds like wheat the idealistic,

discards like chaff the naively noble,

until they, too, gnash their teeth

and use their weeping tears to oil the machinery that crushes their fellows. 

 **The "tilting at windmills" reference is from Don Quixote.

photo credit: Today is a good day via photopin cc

Liquefied

After a night of uneasy dreams, I woke up praying, “I need You, God, I need You.”  (Which is always true, but that kind of prayer springs up more readily when I’m out of sorts.)  I was uneasy about work mostly, since it has been a pretty stressful year.  So I shared the stressors with God, then turned to Psalms.  In my perpetual cycling through Psalms, I read 103, 104, and 105 this morning.  These are three lengthy Psalms recounting the works of the Lord, from details about His provision for each aspect of creation then to recounting His history of faithfulness to Israel.  It provided great perspective.

Psalm 105 talks about Joseph in verse 16-19.  Verse 19 says, “until what he had said came to pass, the word of the Lord tested him.”  Tested, tried—or refined.  The story of Joseph is a favorite of Christians when they are trying to encourage someone who is facing difficult situations.  I have been on the receiving end of this attempt at encouragement, and I’ve never found comfort in someone comparing my situation even remotely to Joseph’s.  I’d think, “I don’t want to be a Joseph!”  Joseph was the eleventh son in a dysfunctional family, who was spoiled and therefore either arrogantly prideful or completely clueless.  (Why else would you tell your older, not spoiled and therefore resentful brothers, that they would bow down to you one day?  And why would you tell them this not once but twice?!)  His brothers then sell him into slavery, as a concession for not killing him.  In slavery, he is faithful and promoted to head slave—but still a slave.  He resists the immoral requests of his master’s wife, and gets falsely accused of initiating the very immoral act that he refused.  Because of his moral stance, he ends up getting thrown in jail.  He is now worse than a slave. 

Betrayed, beaten, falsely accused, imprisoned—not encouraging.  Yeah, Joseph rises to second in command over Egypt and saves the known world from the biggest famine it’s ever seen.  But—and this is my American culture showing itself—was it worth it?  On a personal level, was it worth it to Joseph?  I mean, he names his first kid because “God has made me forget all my hardship and all my father’s house,” and the second “for God has made me fruitful in the land of my afflictions.”  (Genesis 41:51-52)  Bitter much?  Is he forgetting his hardship or remembering it every time his says his kids’ names? 

Interestingly, though, when Joseph asks his father Jacob to bless his sons, Jacob gives the greater blessing to the younger—over Joseph’s protests.  It is like, “No Joseph, don’t dwell on forgetting.  Dwell on the fruitfulness.” 

Back to Psalm 105:19, “until what he had said came to pass, the word of the Lord tested him.”  “Tested” sounds really negative.  It’s also translated “tried”, which isn’t much better.  The word means “refined”, as in refining metal.  This is both good and bad.  Refining is way more intense sounding then just testing/trying.  It’s a process of intense head—literally liquefying metal—to remove impurities.  Saying that the word of the Lord liquefied Joseph like metal strikes me as way more painful than mere testing.

And the goals of refining are more intense, too.  The goal of a test is to pass.  “Yay, I got a B+.  I passed.”  Sounds kind of arbitrary of God.  But the goal of refining is a stronger, purer metal.  That sounds much more purposeful—and more worth it.  If I’m going to be compared to one liquefied by the word of God, if the goal is more than a passing grade, but instead a truer strength and purity, an enduring purpose—well, to be honest, that’s still crazy.  But crazy difficult and crazy worth it go together. 

We’re suppose to judge things by their fruit.  In the end, what was the fruit of the word of the Lord refining Joseph?  Yes, the known world was saved.  Yes, God cares about creation collectively.  But God also cares about His creation individually (just check out the Psalm prior, 104).  What was the fruit for Joseph personally?  Instead of forgetting his father’s house, he has to confront them.  And I think they were reconciled, though still pretty dysfunctional.   In blessing Joseph’s younger son—the one named after fruitfulness—I think Joseph was being reminded to remember the fruit of his refining.

Bless the Lord, O my soul,
   and forget not all his benefits,
who forgives all your iniquity,
   who heals all your diseases,
who redeems your life from the pit,
   who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy,
who satisfies you with good
   so that your youth is renewed like the eagle's. 
                                      Psalm 103:2-5

The liquefying is no less crazy painful.  But the benefits of being liquefied are crazy fruitful, too.  Remind me of that when I'm saying ouch.

For this Lenten season I am giving up perfectionism and posting a blog each day, Monday through Friday, from Ash Wednesday on February 13th, through Easter, on March 31st.  For more information, read “What Are You Giving Up?”  Jesus died for me and loves me, and this is an exercise in remembering that.  Thanks for joining me!

photo credit: Christian Toennesen via photopin cc

Barking at Fireworks

Image: my own photo

Stewie, my dog, doesn’t like fireworks. 

Not in a I-don’t-like-peas-but-I’ll-eat-them-if-there’s-enough-mashed-potatoes-to-cover-them sort of don’t like fireworks.  More like the I-don’t-like-velociraptors-figuring-out-how-to-open-doors sort of way.  It’s a deep hatred for Stewie and it triggers his fight or flight response.  The trouble is, he’s missing the flight part, so my 95lbs black lab mix runs at the windows and doors, barking his thunderous bark at every boom of a firework.  Oh, and the county in which I live allows some pretty serious personal fireworks.  So for five days I’ve got a freaking out dog on my hands. 

Last year I tried giving him Benadryl.  It made him groggy, but didn’t lessen his freaking out barking.  I think he was more frustrated by the drugged feeling of not being alert, and so fought it more.  So this year I’ve used a multifaceted plan of helping Stewie cope.  We went for a five mile walk this morning.  I haven’t let him nap all day.  I’ve got the (white) noisy fan in the bathroom going, and classical music at the upper limits of comfortably loud.  He’s had the maximum recommended dose of doggie herbal calming tablets.  He hasn’t had any dinner, and I’m going to give him a big beef bone to focus on, right when it gets dark and the fireworks kick into high gear.  On the milder nights leading up to the fourth, I cut up several hot dogs, and every time we heard a firework, I gave Stewie a piece of hot dog and told him he was a good boy. 

My friends who have kids say that they learn an amazing amount about God through their children.  Well, I learn a lot about God through Stewie.  I’m not saying that he’s like a kid.  I am emphatically not Stewie’s mom.  I am not a doggie parent, I am a dog owner.  But that said, Stewie is a heck of a lot more work (and reward) than a hamster, and God really likes to speak to me in object lessons.  Therefore, Stewie plays a part of my spiritual formation in this stage of my life.  This time, help Stewie with the fireworks reminded me of something God showed me years ago, and added a layer of meaning to it.

A number of years ago I was going through a particarlly rough patch.  One night I had a dream that I was out on a battle field but terribly wounded.  God, as a knight on a horse, comes charging over at the head of a group of calvary, picks me up, and rides out from the midst of battle into a castle.  In the infirmary, my wounds tended and resting, God’s sitting beside my bed.  We’re inside the castle, but in my semi-delirious state, we can hear the roar of battle, and I’m flinching at every sound.  God is patiently calming and soothing me. 

When I woke up, I read the bible in the morning.  At the time I was cycling through the book of Psalms, reading one or two psalms a day.  That morning, the next psalm was the 18th. Go ahead and read it.  The highlights are:

1I love you, O Lord, my strength.
² The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer,
    my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge,

….

¹⁶ He sent from on high, he took me;
    he drew me out of many waters.

…

¹⁹ He brought me out into a broad place;
    he rescued me, because he delighted in me.

…

³⁵ You have given me the shield of your salvation,
    and your right hand supported me,
    and your gentleness made me great.

The psalm of the day mirrored my dream.  At the time it was a great comfort, that God had rescued me, but was still patient as He and I worked through the ramifications of what He’d rescued me from.  That instead of being mad or disappointed that I still had issues to work through, He was patient and understanding of the process. 

Now several years later, helping Stewie deal with the fireworks gives me a whole new appreciation for how awesome God’s patience with me then (and now) is!  With Stewie, I get frustrated that I can’t explain to him that he’s inside, the fireworks can’t hurt him, that his barking will do nothing, and it would be best if he’d just chill out and go to sleep!  I feel like saying, “Dog! Will you just believe me!  You’re OK! Calm down already!”  How much more should I believe God when He tells me not to worry?  Or when He tells me to rest?  What a difference there is between me and God!  He’s not annoyed like I am with Stewie, but patient and gentle.  

Oh, and God doesn’t try to bribe me with hot dogs.  :o)