not to us

Did you know that we are all orphans at some point?  Spiritually, at least.  In his amazing love, God decided not to leave us that way.  By sending Jesus, he created a better alternative.  He invited us out of orphanhood and into his family.

But becoming an adoptive family?  It's just not always easy.  It's almost never natural.  It takes a concerted effort to form the proper attachments and replace the bad habits of the past.  It takes a *lot* of dedicated love to overcome the lies of the past.  At least, that's what we learned in our foster care training today.

And you know what I've been thinking over the past couple of weeks?

Right now, Mike and I are experiencing the closest thing we'll ever experience to foster care.  We have been separated from our "original" spiritual family for reasons beyond our control.  It hurts.  It stings.  And, honestly, we don't understand it.

At first, we really thought it would be temporary.  We really thought we'd go worship with a foster family for a short season.

Now, we're realizing that it's probably going to be necessary for us to be permanently adopted into a new family.

And that is scary...but hopeful.

We watched a video in class today about a young child who went through many different placements.  The child talked about getting his hopes up each time, then having his dreams broken time and again.  He talked about losing the hope of ever being loved forever.

And, honestly?  I could relate.  Just a little bit.

When I was a youth, my youth pastor left our church, because he disagreed with our senior pastor.  And then my senior pastor started upsetting a lot of people and a lot of people left our church.  It was a really, really rough experience for a young teen.  My brother left our church and attended church down the street from our house.  My dad, my mom, me, and about 30 or 40 people were left in a shell of what the church had been in years prior.

God healed the church.  He brought beauty from the ashes, and, today, the church is an amazing picture of God's love.  

But on my heart?  There's a tiny little scar...the memory of speaking out in front of a bunch of people who were at least twice my age...the memory of speaking what I knew was true and realizing the drastic weight of my words...the memory of wondering if everything went wrong because of something I said or did.

When I was in college, I was the student president of a college ministry.  Some heavy stuff went down, and I saw it happening before anyone else.  When I spoke out about it, I was shunned.  Everyone told me that I was being judgmental or sinful.  My leader told me I was conniving.  My brother told me I was wrong.  Eventually, I left the ministry.

I wasn't wrong.  The following year, the ministry experienced one of the greatest traumas I've ever witnessed.  God healed the ministry.  He brought joy from mourning, and, today, the ministry is thriving.

But on my heart?  A rather large scar exists where all the memories find their hiding place...the memory of sitting in an office while a spiritual leader told me that my husband's ministry would fail because of me...the memory of sitting in a room while a liar confronted me and everyone believed the lies...the memory of sitting in a leadership meeting and getting a verbal lashing that I didn't deserve.

Now, I'm a big girl.  I'm a grown woman.  I'm a wife and a mother.  I was a worship leader and a ministry leader.  But I said some hard things.  I'm not sure if they were harsh or simply hard truths.  I still haven't determined in my heart the level of my culpability in this situation.  After hours and hours of prayer and meditation, I feel peace that I've done nothing out of malicious intent or vain conceit.  But Satan lies to me.

He scratches at those scars.  He brings back the bad memories...the horrible things that people have said:

"You're a challenge to lead."

"If you don't change, you'll hurt Mike's ministry."

"I don't like you.  In fact, I hate you."

"I don't love you, Lindsay.  I want to, but I just don't."

And, as much as I hate it, I believe him.  I try to lean on my husband's love.  I try to rest in my parents' love.  I try to look at my good qualities, and I try to dwell on God's promises and truths.

But when it comes down to it...I find myself wondering the hard things:

"Am I really a challenge?  Am I too hard to handle?  Am I really that bad?  Is there no one who can help me change?  Is there no one who will commit to helping me be better?  What if I never find a spiritual family or spiritual leader who is willing to stick through it and love me, through the good times and the bad?"

And the worst:

"What if God thinks I'm a challenge?  What if He looks at me and all he sees are my weaknesses?  Can he really love me unconditionally?"

Of course, in my head, I know He can.  I know that his ways are SO much higher than ours.  I know that his love is perfect, and ours is anything but.

Unfortunately, head knowledge is totally different from heart belief.

This week?  I'm praying that my head and my heart begin to connect.  I'm praying that God will heal the wounds...will seal the scars more tightly this time.  I'm praying that He'll remind me of His truth, and I'm praying that He'll continue to give me the courage to speak His words, no matter what it costs me.

Mostly, I'm praying that He puts a leader in my life who will take the challenge and help mentor me into a closer relationship with Jesus.

We are a family.  For better or worse.  For richer or poorer.  In sickness and in health.  God has called us to each other, and we are not ever allowed to say, "I don't need you."

Tomorrow?  As you gather with your spiritual family?

Will you do me a favor and look around?  See your brothers and sisters for who they really are: orphans, needy and helpless, who have been adopted into the family of God.  Unworthy children who have been loved by an ever-worthy Father.

Then, will you take the next step and show them the love that the Father has lavished on you?  Will you hug them?  Smile at them?  Pray for them?  Hold their hand?  Let them know how much you appreciate them.

You never know:  One of them just might be on the brink of losing their hope.

(Edited to add:  Dudes, I was watching Hope Floats while I wrote this post.  And the end includes this quote:

"Beginnings are scary,

Ending are usually sad,

but it's the middle that counts the most.

You need to remember that when you find yourself at a beginning.

Just give hope a chance to float up,

and it will too."

It was just what I needed to hear.  :)  Thank you, God.  Help me find my hope in You, and You alone.)