The Spring of My Discontent

   A week ago, my greatest nemisis began rearing it's ugly head again. I try to ignore her, but sometimes she's loud, obnoxious, and the harder I try to ignore her the more attention she demands.  Her name is discontentment, and I absolutely abhor her.  Discontentment has been a part of my life for a long time.  Does she visit you as well?  I can sense when she's around.  She sours my mood, changing my perspective on everything around me. Suddenly, I hate the color of my walls. I want to do something drastic to my hair. She makes my world seem ugly and small.  And worst of all, I feel like she laughs at me.  Making me feel that  I am powerless to change anything that could give me some relief.

   I was sitting on my front porch steps wishing that I had more opportunities to see beyond my narrow world. I thought about my Grandmother who was definitely a homebody.  She never had traveled much in her life, and was perfectly fine with that.  She was happiest in her home and garden than vacationing at the beach, in the mountains, or another state or country.  Although you'd never know it from my life's trajectory, I'm not entirely content staying put.  My dream is to see as much of the world as I can and take my family along for the ride. I would love to look at a map at the end of my life and see so many good memories from my travels.  

   Then the Boston Marathon bombings happened.  We all watched, as what should have been a celebration of the human spirit, turn bloody and chaotic.  As the authorities and media began piecing together the identities of the bomber we came to know, as Conrad knew, "the mind of man is capable of anything.” Like a switch flipping, all my longings seemed petty.  People were dealing with life and death decisions. While the surviving terrorist was (thankfully) captured, the five families were mourning the loss of their loved ones. Many survivors of the blasts were recovering from serious injuries such as amputations.  And those who thought they knew these young men sat in disbelief.

(AP Photo/Matt Rourke)

   It is my belief that God never causes bad things to happen. But he will use whatever he has at his disposal to teach us, and sometimes shake us.  That these "dark nights of our soul" can be used to deepen our faith.  I'm not sure I want my frenemy to go away completely. She moves me toward action. We can all use a little kick in the pants sometimes.

   

Saying "Yes" to Adonai

  It's been a little over a year since my Grandma Rumley passed away.  The inheritance of her home also meant the inheritance of her possessions. Six months after we laid her to rest, my older cousin took a bedroom suit of my grandparents for her eldest daughter's bedroom.  In emptying drawers, we discovered items that my grandparents probably inherited from their parents, and those items were stuffed in a drawer and now being unearthed by granddaughters.  In the drawer of a wardrobe were religiously themed signs and a surprising framed image of the Virgin Mary, entitled Sacred Heart of Mary. "This Catholic stuff," as my cousin put it was a surprising find coming from one of our Primitive Baptist great-grandparents.

   After we cleared the room out, and loaded my uncle's trailer with furniture I kept that picture.  I found it beautiful. Although I'm not sure the artist's rendering of her was all that accurate. At the time of Jesus' birth, she's a peasant girl no more than fifteen. I always have this image of her having long, dark wavy hair. Her skin is olive complected, and kind, chocolate brown eyes. Not at all this porcelaine skinned beauty, looking more like Josephine or Guinevere.  In the center of her chest is her pierced heart, The gospels recount the prophecy delivered to her at Jesus' presentation at the temple: that her heart would be pierced with a sword. She seemed luminescent and good and trustworthy.  

  Growing up in an evangelical home, we didn't talk a lot about Mary.  We dusted her nativity set figurine off at Christmas.  A little girl played her in the Christmas pageant. She was just another player in the Christmas story  amongst the shephards and cattle.  I've never heard a sermon on just Mary, but I have always loved her. After a lifetime of reading Luke's account of Mary's encounter with the angel, Gabriel, I am still amazed by Mary's faithfullness.  Unlike Moses, who made excuses about why God couldn't use someone like him with a speech impediment, or Jonah who did the opposite of everything God asked of him, this peasant girl was so surrendered to God that she allowed him to have complete control of her life, no matter what the consequences.

Henry Ossawa Tanner's  The Annunciation

   Mary's "yes" should be an example to all of us. As one with "control issues," it's hard to be surrendered to someone else.  I don't really like surprises.  I thrive on stability and calm.  I like order and a predictable schedule.  I tend to prefer a strict itinerary as opposed to going with the flow.  By allowing Christ to dwell in us, the old is gone and the new is born. Jehovah who has revealed himself to us wants to be our Adonai.  As Dr. Tony Evans says about this name of God (Adonai), "if you own the term you got to own the role....If God is the owner, you are not." Today, Catholics honor Mary's "yes" in the feast of the Annunciation of the Lord.  It is my prayer for my life to continue to allow God greater surrender of my life. Until oneday I have loosened the deathgrip I sometimes have for the plans of my life, and I can enjoy the peace that comes from walking faithfully with Him.