Unravelling Identity: A Parable

This past Sunday I had the absolute joy of declaring the Good News with my church family. As I prepared, God put a story on my heart. So, although it sounded much more eloquent in Spanish, I could think of no better post with which to restart my blogging than an English version of the story.

It is the story of a child.  That child is me.  That child is you.  That child is all of us.  Because of the original audience, I chose to refer to the child as a boy; however, if it helps you connect with the story, feel free to replace “the boy”, “he” and “his” with “the girl”, “she” and “her.”

I pray this story is a blessing to you.

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This is the story of a child: an orphan who lives on the street. Every day is a struggle to survive. Often he has to eat from the garbage, and at times has even ended up stealing food or money for food. He has to be strong, or at least act strong, in order to defend himself. When the rain or cold comes he has to find shelter. He always seems to have a cough; he’s always dirty; he usually is without shoes. Every day he begs on the street and does what he can, but sometimes the other street children gang up on him and steal from him, and he ends up even worse off.

One day a man arrives, well dressed and very kind. He gives the boy a sandwich and new shoes. He says he wants to be friends with the boy, and of course the boy wants that very much. The man comes a few more times to give him some toys and candy and then suggests to the boy that maybe he could come work with him. He promises to provide for all his needs as long as he follows the man’s instructions. The boy is thrilled! Finally he will have someone to look after him.

After a short time, everything turns into a nightmare. The man who was so kind and always gave him candy and affection becomes the cruelest master in the world, now with his new slave. The boy realizes that everything was a lie. Not only that, it turns out that the man has a whole gang of children under his control. He orders them to beg in the street and bring the money every day. The man threatens to kill them if they try to escape or talk to the police or do not bring him enough money. He rewards the children who inform on the other children, so none of them can trust one another.

The boy lives under a great deal of fear – of annoying the man, of not bringing him enough, of a lie of one of the other children. The man does not provide for the boy as he said he would and the boy often hits the streets hungry.  He cannot use the money he has begged for to buy food because the money will wonder why he has brought so little and get angry. And if the boy lies to the man about how much he earned that day he is afraid that one of the other children will have seen and tell the man. Many days he ends up eating from the garbage, just as before, in order to have enough money to meet the man’s demands. And escape? He can’t even imagine thinking about that.

But one day, the boy is miraculously rescued! And not only rescued, he is adopted! When he meets the father of the family, he is shocked. The father is so kind and happy, strong yet gentle. The father has many children, however the boy can see that he loves them all the same! And it seems as if nobody in the house lacks anything. There is a joy among them that he has never experienced. The boy is in the best circumstances of his life! He lives in a huge house, has new clothes and a lot of brothers and sisters, and the most amazing food he has ever tasted. And always, always, always, when the father embraces him, he feels peace and security – something so foreign to him. When he sees the father’s eyes, he sees something that he had thought only existed in stories or his dreams … love, perfect and pure.

However, as odd as it might seem, adapting to the new life that he has in the father’s house is not so easy. Although there is always food on the father’s huge table, sometimes the boy still finds himself looking for food in the garbage because he feels strange sitting at the table. He has done nothing to deserve such wonderful food. And after defending himself so long on the streets, he has a hard time trusting his new brothers and sisters. He feels that their care for him is just a hoax, and expects that at any moment they will betray him and say something to the father so that the father will reject him. So he spends a lot of time alone because he it’s better for him to reject his new siblings than to end up the one rejected. Perhaps worst of all, the boy starts receiving letters from his former owner from the streets. The man insists and insists in his messages, saying time after time that the boy is worthless, that he does not deserve to be in the father’s house, that one day the father will realize his mistake and throw him out of the house, that he shouldn’t trust the father, and all manner of things like that. The boy hides the letters in a secret place. And although they start as messages, when the man says something that the boy thinks is probable, very soon the words of the man leap from the page and become the voice in his head.

One day, a window breaks playing soccer. The boy runs to the forest at the back of the father’s property and hides. He is very afraid of what the father will do. When he hears the voice of the father calling him, he does not say anything – he even holds his breath in fear of being found. But of course the father finds him, and instead of a beating, the boy receives only a warm embrace. The father invites him to come along so that they can go repair the window together. It seems like the father still loves him. Maybe the man’s voice is not right.

Although he resists, the boy begins to get to know his brothers and sisters better. They help him find things in the house, or teach him how things are done around the house. Increasingly, he does not feel so disoriented and out-of-place in the house. And sometimes they say such nice things about the father and what he has done for them – wonderful stories that give the boy a lot of hope. Perhaps the father really is who they say he is.

The father continues to teach the boy how one ought to live in his family. He keeps inviting him to the table to eat. He continues correcting with love and a lot of patience, making the most of every opportunity to show the boy that his love is not conditional and that he will never abandon the boy. The father is always generous with his affection, and spends a lot of time with the boy, dreaming with him about his future, and who he will be, and all the things they will do together.

Now, in the presence of his father and his brothers and sisters, the man’s voice no longer sounds so correct. One day the boy dares to talk to his father about the man’s letters, and he takes them out of their secret place. His father takes his face in his hands so that the boy must look him in the eyes. And with his words and eyes full of tears he speaks truth over his boy.

You are mine, I rescued you and I paid everything so that you can belong here. You are wanted in my family. You are loved. You are a precious treasure and I choose you! There is nothing that will ever separate us. You are safe. Fear and shame no longer have a place in your life.

Then his father takes the letters and his boy’s hand and they go throw the letters in an immense bonfire.

Every day with his father the boy learns how to live in his new home. He learns how to enjoy the father’s blessings with his brothers and sisters, how to support and encourage one another. More and more the boy understands that he does not have to hide from his father when he makes a mistake – he can ask for forgiveness and, together with his father, look for a solution so that he can avoid the same mistake. He learns how to ask for his father’s help, and spend time without shame in his arms.

He is no longer just the street kid living in the father’s house. He is the father’s son, part of the family, enjoying the abundant life of his father.

 

 

Unravelling Abiding: Stop Using Me.

“Teach me to abide!”

So much frustration was wrapped up in those words. I had been confessing that I had been doing a lot of running and numbing instead of connecting and really feeling the inner Romans 7 struggle.

“Teach me to abide!”

The Spirit responded gently. “Stop using me.”

He showed me how I have treated abiding like a filling station: I connect in, fill up my tank with His resources, then I disconnect and run off to do my own thing, use up the resources as if they were mine until I feel empty again and need to go top up the tank again. I was using Him.

This in contrast to the metaphor of the vine and the branches in John 15. The branch doesn’t receive resources to then run off and produce its own fruit. The branch is a conduit of the resources of the vine. The vine pours its resources through the branch and then produces its fruit.

We often talk about how Jesus regularly retreated to be with the Father and I think this has falsely fed my “fill’er up” mentality when the truth of the matter is that every word Jesus spoke came from the Father and every thing He did was directed by the Father. Jesus didn’t go and plug in, download and then disconnect to get about his business. He remained connected. Could it be that when He got away with the Father it more about intimacy than business?

When my time spent with the Father is utilitarian I’m missing out on intimacy. When it is about scrounging for wisdom or answers or inspiration or power it can’t be about feasting at the Father’s table. Abiding as a conduit in the vine means that I can trust for all of God’s resources to flow through me as He sees fit so that my times of quiet in His presence could actually just simply be about being in His presence.

So what does it look like to view abiding more as a state of being by which God may pour His resources through us to produce HIS fruit? And how does this practically play out in the chaos of life?

I’m not entirely sure just yet, but I think it has implications for other things that have been on my mind lately: how to let God order my days, how to be a wise steward of finances in the midst of so much need, how to pray, how to not lose my temper when my sons pants “feel funny” and I am powerless to fix his whiny dilemma. I think it is a key to not burning out. I think it has the power to free me from of some of those graveclothes of striving and fear of man because if I am simply a conduit everything that comes out of me is not of me at all and the fruit belongs to the Vine.

And I think…well I think it must start with confession and surrender. God, forgive me for using You and abiding only long enough to fill myself up and move on with my plans.

The messiness of online platforms…

I look through my Facebook feed and it seems like everyone and their dog is starting a blog or a podcast or creating some kind of online platform. Have we all reached our 30s and finally feel like we have something share or fear that we haven’t impacted our world as we had hoped? Why would I add to the clamour?

Don’t get me wrong – I really appreciate much of the things that my friends are sharing. I’ve been inspired by the journeys they find themselves on and their willingness to share what they are learning on the way. Yet, on the other hand there seems to be quite a lot in the world of online platforms that just seems narcissistic and self-indulgent: I’ll write or talk about me and my opinions and you should enjoy reading me or listening to me talking about me so much that you like, follow and subscribe!

And If I’m being honest, I’m am aware of the parts of me that would lean towards narcissistic and self-indulgent.  And throwing myself into this world, makes me nervous about that. I know my own tendency towards self-promotion, my desire to be seen in a good light, the thirst for influence and approval, as well as the sometimes crushing reactions to criticism and disapproval. These are some of the graveclothes I’m working on unravelling from my life, but a few of those pieces are quite long and I’m fairly certain I’ll find I’m pretty tangled up in spots.

So how do I find myself here, despite all that, starting a blog?  Well… I’ll unravel that in future posts