Category: regret

Tears Do Things

I’ve been thinking a lot about tears lately—in part because Pastor Bryan pointed out to me how many hits my post titled God Keeps Your Tears in a Bottle has had, in part because I’ve cried more than a few tears this year, and in part because I’ve been listening to Johnny Cash’s Cry, Cry, Cry in my car all week—and I thought I’d share my thoughts with you all here.

First of all, people cry for a lot of reasons.

Earlier this year my sister died of breast cancer at only 61 years old. I cried, a lot. It’s normal and even helpful to shed tears over the death of a loved one even if we know where they are going when they die, because it allows us to express the grief we feel over not having them in our lives any more here on earth.

I remember a time I had a previous boss say some very cruel things to me in front of other people. She accused me of having done things I had not based on motives I did not have. I was very angry, hurt, and frustrated. And I cried, a lot. I didn’t cry in front of her, mind you, but afterwards I did. And it was good to express that anger to others.

I’ve cried tears of loss, anger, indignation with frustration, compassion, and even of joy. I sometimes cry tears of regret when I hear a song about the sacrifice of Jesus, knowing it is my sin that made him suffer.

Just yesterday I experienced unexpected tears.

I was reciting the prayers of the people in church, which I’ve done many times. Our church has many prayer concerns for members, family, and friends with health concerns and more. Towards the end of the prayer I began to lift up prayers for a church member’s brother-in-law who is a pastor back in New York because he is faced with conducting the funerals of two teens who had been killed in an accident last week.

I recently wrote this poem.

Tears

Tears of sorrow, anger
drench my soul
course without end
eroding pain, anguish

Where once only aching
occupied my heart
now is a deep empty ravine
carved by a river of tears

Tears of forgiveness
water my soul’s riverbed
allowing flowers of love
to flourish and grow

Peace arises in my heart
held aloft by God’s promises
the fragrance of sweet alyssum
blossoms of my soul

I think the saddest tears of all, though, are the tears of major clinical depression. These tears are so sad because the one who cries them doesn’t know what purpose they serve.

I remember when I was suffering from depression sitting in a chair and just crying. When someone asked me why I was crying all I could say was, “I don’t know.” And I truly didn’t. The tears didn’t wash away pain; they only seemed to make it all the worse.

In the midst of such tears, there is One who knows their purpose.

Romans 8:26 says: “In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans.” Through prayer God can sometimes lead us to an understanding of the purpose of the tears of depression, and ultimately to healing.

That makes your tears a good thing.

“Tears are often the telescope by which men see far into heaven.“

Henry Ward Beecher

Check out Linda’s site.

I’m More or Less Oblivious

Inspector Clouseau, (Upon discovering stolen artifacts) in The Pink Panther 2

“Ah yes, the Shroud of Turin! We will have to dry clean it before we return it.”

______________________

I honestly think that our bumbling attempts to follow Jesus are entertaining angels who watch our efforts and shake their heads in astonishment. “Did you see what Bryan just did?”

I’m the “Inspector Clouseau” of the spiritual realm.   😁  

Maybe you can relate?

Clumsy and very much oblivious, I bungle my way down the path of discipleship, without a clue. It seems when something right happens, I still end up butchering it. The Holy Spirit has His hands full. Scripture tells me He has no regrets.

We have experienced so much, and been given so much light.

And yet we consistently choose to trade it for a lie. For the most part, I don’t sin automatically, I sometimes choose it deliberately.  People don’t sin because they feel they have to. We sin because we like the pleasure it brings. We sin because it feels nice. It’s often a mask to cover the pain.

It’s a patch for the pain of my twisted up life.

We sin because it brings a thrill to our bodies, and excitement to the boredom of our everyday lives.  We sin because we believe the lie that the pleasure it brings, though passing (Heb. 11:25).

Sin happens when I look at anything or anyone other than God.

The issues I have are both spiritual and medical.  I survived a brain tumor and I need to walk with a cane. I have constant vertigo. My right arm is paralyzed. I struggle hard sometimes. I have some struggles with social anxiety. But God gives me buckets of His grace.  I know first-hand his agape love for me.

But He will not bless my disobedience and rebellion. 

When we announce to the world that “Jesus is Lord” we can expect God will hold our feet to the fire over this.  The Holy Spirit will not negotiate when we suddenly decide we are hungry for sin.  Apprehended by grace, we must fully surrender all claims we have to sample sin’s delights.

Who do we find joy in? It really does matter.

In the middle of my battles to be a believer, I must remember joy.  I cannot imagine being without it.  I’ve been clinically depressed pushed to the point of suicide.  But God gives me joy in my darkness.

“The joy of the Lord is your strength.”

Nehemiah 8:10

“For the Lord takes pleasure in his people; he adorns the humble with salvation.”

Psalm 149:4

1brobry-sig4 (2)

Rembrandt’s Prodigal Son

Rembrandt-The_return_of_the_prodigal_son
Rembrandt, “The Return of the Prodigal Son,” c. 1661

17 “But when he came to himself, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired servants have more than enough bread, but I perish here with hunger! 18 I will arise and go to my father, and I will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. 19 I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Treat me as one of your hired servants.”’ 20 And he arose and came to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him. 21 And the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’ 22 But the father said to his servants, ‘Bring quickly the best robe, and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet. 23 And bring the fattened calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate. 24 For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.’ And they began to celebrate.

Luke 15:17-24, ESV

Two hundred and eighty-nine words– these describe the life of every man, woman, and child who has ever lived. These 289 words reveal to us a God who loves far too much, way too easy. Perhaps we sort of expect that he will ‘appropriately’ punish his son– at least put him on probation at least. It only makes sense. But we find that is legalism talking.

“Every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future.” 

Many of us have lived as prodigals, and we have spent our inheritance like ‘drunken sailors.’ We really have nothing at all to show for it. The prodigal, completely destitute, takes the only work he can find. (Imagine a good Jewish boy feeding hogs.)

He is so far gone that he starts inspecting the filthy slop buckets for something to eat.

Many of us will understand his despair. Often there comes to us a crystalline moment of simple awareness. The prodigal, sin-crusted and impoverished, still has a lingering memory of the Father’s house.

The servants there had far more than him right now. Sometimes I wonder if in our captivity, we instinctively want to go home, if only in our minds, to be a servant there.

The Father has dreamed of this precise moment.

The parable says, “He saw him–felt compassion–ran out to him–embraced him–and kissed him.” The Father is a whirlwind of agape love. I’ve read the Parable of the Prodigal Son a hundred times or more. It never loses its punch. I simply want to bring some observations: 

  • We see that his father receives him with a tender gesture. His hands seem to suggest mothering and fathering at once; the left appears larger and more masculine, set on the son’s shoulder, while the right is softer and more receptive in gesture.
  • The son’s head is downy, almost like a newborn’s. We must enter the kingdom like little children. 
  • The Prodigal Son seems to be protected by his father. He snuggles near the Father’s breast. It’s love that holds him there.
  • Consider his sandals. It has taken a long time for him to come home. 
  • Standing at the right is the prodigal son’s older brother, who crosses his hands in stoic judgment; we read in the parable that he objects to the father’s compassion for his brother.
  • We see his mother in the background in the painting, and a seated steward or counselor. One stands in profound joy, the other in sits in stunned perplexity.

But Rembrandt had painted the Prodigal once before, when he was considerably younger. And it is a very good painting. The prodigal is happy and gay; there is absolutely no indication of the consequences of sin.

The Prodigal Son in the Brothel, 1635

He’s a charming young man at the height of his popularity, and we see him at a happy party. He is spending the inheritance of his father.

But Rembrandt chooses at the very end of his life to re-paint it to reflect reality.

This is one of the last paintings he will do, and it is the Prodigal Son–destitute and repenting. I can only imagine; the years have taken a toll and he doesn’t really feel his first painting is enough. He wants to paint what is true.

He now is painting our spiritual condition.

We are given a work that some critics call as the greatest painting ever completed. The painting is now in St. Petersburg, Russia. It is seldom seen by visitors. It is a clear echo of the grace of God for fallen men and women. Like the father in the painting, He’s ready to forgive every sin saturated son and daughter.

The Father’s Prodigal

bry-signat (1)

 

Hiding Our Wounds

Brennan Manning Quote
“You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. 15 Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house.”

Matthew 5:14-15, ESV

Overall, I think this Manning quote is a great observation. We, the torn and wounded, often try to hide, secluding ourselves in the “Island of Misfit Toys.” (Got to love those 60s Christmas cartoons.) We pretty much accept our lot as damaged merchandise.

Maybe we choose to isolate ourselves more than we want to admit. Could that be what we do? Are we still embarrassed and ashamed by all that we’ve done? That’s quite possible.

This may come as a shock, but the Church doesn’t need any more gifted people.

But it does need broken people who understand ‘the giftedness of the flawed.” When we conceal, we diminish the Church by our absence. We can ostracize ourselves, through a self imposed shame— but the Church will suffer. We need to show them that everyone can be healed, even screwy ‘fruit-cakes’ like us.

I recently had the privilege of speaking to a class of young Bible college students.

My subject was decidedly not on being successful, but on being a failure. Whole courses are geared toward ministerial success– but where are the ones for failure? I think that it just might be even more important, in the long run.

No human effort is going to erase your past.

I have tried and it can’t be done. I have blitzed my brains on drugs and booze, but I still remember the people I’ve hurt. (And I pray for them.) There really isn’t a cure for the evil we have done. I believe in forgiveness. And I hold to the idea that are sins are never to be a subject of  guilty accusation–

“He will again have compassion on us;
    he will tread our iniquities underfoot.
You will cast all our sins
    into the depths of the sea.”

Micah 7:19

Our dark iniquity is put in a very deep place. But there are the memories of an unkind word, or a sad and dark foolishness that we must learn to live with. There will be many regrets, and we face the terrible consequences of our sins, but it’s enough to know that all is under the blood of Jesus.

We are indeed forgiven. Completely.

We are now to live as forgiven sinners, yet precious in God’s eyes. We discover that although the Father has no favorites among His children, but He does have intimates. We are to live the rest of our lives for His glory, exploring that intimacy.

“Leave the broken, irreversible past in God’s hands, and step out into the invincible future with Him.”

  Oswald Chambers