I clock a lot of hours on the bench at my kid’s gymnastics studio. Not surprisingly, I hear more conversations than I would like to. I’m not nosy, but I am female, so even though I try not to eavesdrop, sometimes it’s difficult to close my ears.
I’ve seen a lot of single dads at the gym lately. You can always tell when there are drop offs between a tense mom and dad, usually in the middle of a divorce, and the gym is their neutral turnover zone.
Bags are exchanged. Homework explained. Guilt-trips are delicately laced with instructions.
Little kids wave goodbye to mommy or daddy and try and put on a brave face before their peers and coach. Little tears escape, brushed away in an effort to be a “big girl.”
Shoulders are slumped. Sadness exudes. Defeat hangs like a dense fog.
I notice an air of confusion on many of the recently single parents. It’s as if they wear a large sticker on their forehead reading “Why didn’t this divorce make me happier?”
One of these sad guys plopped himself down next to me the other day. He looked well put together, effortlessly stylish –clearly he had money and confidence –and yet something was wanting.
Another man walked by and inquired how he was doing –and out the story spilled.
His wife left him for another man. But not just any man –it was his best friend. She is demanding $10k a month for her expenses. She also left him with her daughter whom he was now raising. They were married all of thirteen months.
Through his anger and liberal use of f-bombs, I heard heart-wrenching and desperately raw pain.
I tried to fade into the wall. I didn’t want to hear it. It brought back emotions and days I don’t want to remember.
I watched his little girl do a handstand and wave and blow kisses, trying to make him smile. She could tell her daddy was hurting.
And it reminded me how every person I meet has a story.
That even the uber-attractive and wealthy folks pulling out of the kiddie gym in a Ferrari are often dying on the inside.
EVERY interaction and EVERY encounter I make is important to someone. Each day I have the opportunity to bring life or death, joy or pain, comfort or more sorrow to an already suffering soul.
I was recently told by a pharmaceutical rep that our CVS Pharmacy in Ladera Ranch has the highest revenue in the nation of prescription anti-depressants.
This means my community of beautiful wisteria clad homes, hard bodies, families with 2.3 kids, and happy smiley faces is secretly drowning in a disease of sorrow hidden behind image management.
I tried not to be intrusive, but as I left, I looked the man in the eye and acknowledged his pain. He weakly smiled back and went on his way.
And I am brought to my knees, crying out to God for this hurting man, for my hurting community, and for a world where hope is holding on by a thin thread.
If you are one of those struggling today, please let me encourage you to hold on. Reach out and let someone know you need help. You can’t do life alone. We need each other. We need Jesus with skin on. We need people.
God reveals himself and comforts us through those who have walked in our shoes and previously traveled down the dark roads.
There have been few days in my life so impactful they are singed into my memory as “best days ever.”
The birth of my kids, the day my ex-husband walked, the day I ran down the aisle into the arms of Tim Keller…
Ravishing love, unbearable sorrow, joy beyond imagination – I recall every detail swirled with emotion.
This last weekend I added a new “best day ever” to my mental picture book.
Tim and I attended Relationship BootCamp and it rocked my world.
I’ve always thought marriage was hard work and I just needed to buck up and put in the effort.
I tell myself, “Don’t give up. Try harder. Ok, that didn’t work…Sam, try EVEN harder!”
(After one failed marriage, I have NO intention of a repeat performance)
But is working harder at doing the same thing over and over anything more than a spinning hamster wheel of frustration? Certainly, relationship takes effort, and yet my soul groans for something more –understanding, compassion and a deeper connection.
Why are relationships so difficult? Why do I struggle (at times) with the man of my dreams?
Why, why, why Jesus? Why don’t Christians have awesome marriages? Aren’t we supposed to be getting this right?
I believe I have a good marriage, but in the back of my mind I long and thirst for a glimpse of heaven. And I feel guilty for wanting more. I hate the repeated arguments about the same dumb thing. I hate the communication gap. I despise the feeling that we are so close to getting this right –and yet a million miles away all at the same time.
I discovered a lot from Relationship BootCamp.
Most of all, I recognized I desperately need healing from past wounds (that I drag into my marriage!) and a huge dose of forgiveness if I want EPIC instead of just ok.
Surprise, surprise…relationship issues are not about dealing with the difficult people in our life.
Relationship issues are about dealing with the face in the mirror.
I saw five couples this weekend either seperated or with divorce papers signed who turned it around and recommitted. I saw miracles happen.
I also saw my husband have epiphany after epiphany, right along WITH me.
I ahhed and oohed too many times to count and I cried desperate tears as I saw my husband in a new light.
And in the dark recesses of my heart, a glorious unlocking began and HOPE kicked out the despair I didn’t even know I stuffed in there.
I ALMOST NEVER recommend you buy or do anything on this blog, but if you want the relationship you’ve always dreamed about, I highly recommend you consider signing up for a BootCamp!
You’ll probably run into me volunteering and I’ll hug you through the hard parts!
I believe our country is going through a marriage and relationship crisis.
There is something sacred about stumbling upon an older couple sneaking kisses or holding hands. In our counter-cultural age of fast-food relationships over before the kids have reached kindergarten, seasoned love is a treat to behold.
I don’t know about you, but I crave this “old people in the park holding hands kind of love.” I want my husband to desire me at 41, 51, 61 and 91 (Lord willing we attain this age).
But sex is such a tough issue to broach in the church. We clam up, get awkward and pretend that good Christians don’t really need it.
(As if God didn’t create us to be sexual beings)
We forget that sex is a crucial factor in romance and it is the glue that keeps a marriage chugging on and on over the years.
It is also the one vital factor which separates friendship from love.
Sex matters in a marriage!
Sex helps you feel more connected to your partner, it makes you feel cared for and comforted, and, hello ladies, it’s fun, remember?
My friend reminded me of a comment I made to her years ago.
Sex is like working out. It’s a pain in the ass to schlep all your gear to the gym and to drag your butt on to the treadmill or into the Zumba class, but once you get there and get warmed up you remember how much you actually like it and then you relax and enjoy the ride (no pun intended).
Yep. Sex is like working out. And we all know the benefits of a regular workout routine.
The problem is (with both sex and exercise) we make excuses to not be active. Because, let’s be honest, it’s far easier to be lazy and pretend to be asleep when our husbands make a move toward us.
Life certainly invades…
Through the years, we all change both physically and emotionally, and the days become chaotic with family and sports and demanding work schedules. But, even with the inevitable curve balls we will all encounter in and outside of our relationships, it is possible to keep the sparks flying (or at least smoldering!)
Many couples erroneously believe that the natural attraction and sexual desire they enjoyed during the honeymoon of their relationship will seamlessly carry over, without any effort, throughout their marriage.
Sorry folks…this is a lie.
Romance, desire and sex, will cease to exist unless it is both honored and nurtured by both parties in a couple.
As neuroscientific research has proven, during the first six to eighteen months of a new relationship, our brain excretes a variety of neurochemicals, which helps to accelerate our biological mating dance. Our brains are flooded with serotonin and dopamine, which keeps passion ignited, with very little effort on our part.
Then, as mysteriously as these mating neurochemicals arrive, they depart. And when this happens, usually within eighteen months of the start of a relationship, it’s time to roll up our sleeves and work a little harder when it comes to our sex life.
So if sex is a priority, (which it should be!) then we need to make it important and red flag it on the calendar for the one we love.
Maybe it means taping a favorite show or going to bed earlier or putting the kids in their own room…
According to Rachel Sussman –author of the Breakup Bible, you can keep passion alive and thriving through regular and productive (no blaming, shaming, or complaining, please) communication with your partner about sex.
Be sure to discuss the following:
Make a commitment to make sex a priority!
Take the time to discuss what sex means to each of you. To my husband sex=love. To me it equals affection. His need might be a little more pressing than mine.
If you lead a busy life (and who doesn’t) it’s perfectly OK to put sex dates on the calendar. Don’t worry that scheduling may become “formulaic” –looking forward to sex is a treat for a guy. And ladies, if you put it on the calendar…do not change the playdate without a conversation and a reschedule. (It’s like telling your kid you are going to Disneyland and canceling because you have a headache. Be kind to your man!)
Shake it up. Try something new. I’ll leave it at that!
Worried that you won’t be “in the mood”? Allow yourself a “transitional time”. If sex is in the calendar tonight (or if you’d like it to be) – prepare yourself earlier in the day. Send your spouse a flirty text. Take a bubble bath, grab a glass of wine and allow the days stressors to slide off. Light a few candles, grab your iPod and set the mood.
Have fun, enjoy the love of your life, and make your marriage a priority!
It’s been a hot topic lately –“why kids are leaving the church.” Over and over it seems church pundits want to blame old pastors wearing skinny jeans as the culprit. Apparently, the sight of a forty year old with a goatee and paste on jeans makes our youth want to barf and disassociate from the gospel.
They say the church isn’t authentic enough… “Relevant” yes, but lacking meat and potatoes. They say it’s a McDonaldized version of the world with a happy meal Jesus. The church entertains but fails to teach. The atheists come at youth with science; the church comes at kids with rules. The church is judgmental to their gay friends and we focus too much on sex and marriage and “looking good” vs. being good.
This anti-church message propagated on the radio by the rapper Macklemore, whom my kids love, claims the church paraphrases verses out of a 3500 year old book to shame and browbeat those outside the religious parameters.
And our kids are listening. They hear celebrities and artists who lift up and associate Jesus with everything BUT the church.
And it makes me sad, because this hasn’t been my experience with ministry.
(If you go to one of these terrible places that treat its youth with disdain, then leave.)
My experience with the church and youth ministry has simply been befuddlement. Why are so many kids leaving the church and not coming back? We try so hard and yet we are losing them? What is the secret sauce to draw them back?
While I believe some of the millennial critiques hold credence in a sad and awkward way, I’m not buying the laundry list of nitpicky justifications young people use to reject the church as the real and underlying reason.
All of the millennial criticism I hear boils down to one thing. (And I don’t need a top ten list to tell you with neat little bulleted points)
So why kids are kids leaving the church?
I believe it’s a lack of love.
Remember Jesus? He’s the guy who ate with sinners and gangsters, hookers, pimps and hoes. Jesus is the man who loved the sexually immoral (pretty sure this includes gays too), turned over tables and healed the seriously messed up.
The church in its efforts to gain the youth and save the “lost generation” have forgotten the main thing.
Love
We focus on new buildings, more awesome bands, food trucks and large crowds. We think we need just one more thing to get them to come back, but when we do this we get lost and caught up in the swirly whirly distraction of the world.
I know great parents who have sent their kids to the mega awesome Church to be DAZZLED and instead their kids come home with a drug addiction from dealers in the church parking lot.
Just because a church attracts a big crowd doesn’t mean Jesus is moving in the lives of our kids. The draw at these BIG TEEN EVENTS might be good drugs, hot chicks and free food. Last time I checked, I can send my teen to a rave for a $10 fee. I certainly don’t need my tithe money to cover it.
What about love? What about people who care about our kids? What about parents engaging with their kids and serving side by side with them and using less words and more action?
We can’t just tell our kids to be good; we need to be honest about our own brokenness and the healing power of Christ.
We need to be let down our perfectly pinned up church hair and remember our struggles with temptation as teenagers. We need to let them know we went down some dark roads too and that God’s love is relentless in its pursuit.
I didn’t make it through high school with my innocence intact and quite honestly; my brokenness is what leads me to Christ.
The kid that tries drugs or pre-marital sex or even walking away from Christ with unanswered questions may actually be closer to God than the devoted and quiet student who shows up every week to Sunday School and serves in Children’s Ministry.
Who are we to judge the state of a man’s heart?
I hold on to the verse, ”Raise up a child in the way he should go and when he is old he will not depart from it.” (Proverbs 22:6)
Why do we gloss over the “when he is old” part? There is a gap in between the youth and old. Maybe the gap includes living and loving, hurting, questioning, and finally returning to the arms of the father.
Why do we punish our kids for the gap years? Why do we focus on the prodigal son and forget that God gave us two stories –one of a kid who followed the rules and one who ran away –and yet both were loved.
We need to allow our kids to question the mystery and bigness of God and we need to stop acting like we have all the answers. (Read the book of Job again if you think you know it all)
The appeal of Jesus to anyone – a millennial, a young family, a divorced woman, or an old codger is love. We are to love God and love one another. We aren’t instructed to put on a show and work our ministers to death so they are so exhausted and grumpy and so un-loving that our kids see just another man (or woman) in a monkey suit (insert skinny jeans) working for achievement.
When a pastor or a CHRISTIAN doesn’t have time for a hurting kid, we missed an important step along the way.
My son met a kid at the Spectrum (about 15 years old) who passionately spoke his mind about Jesus and God and love. After that night, my kid has looked at his relationship with Christ a little differently. He prays more. I find his Bible (gasp) open in the morning next to his bed.
This is a kid who also has a chip on his shoulder about the church. My son is a pastor’s kid and survived a church plant. And while some kids make it through puberty thinking the church is AMAZING, my son has seen some of the darker sides of ministry.
And yet he is still drawn to Jesus. When he saw another kid s passion and love for the Lord, it made an impact.
Love burst forth from this kid and mountains moved.
We need to teach our kids that we can’t judge Jesus by the church. Jesus loves the church and died for the church, but we are a broken lot who mess and muddle up love on a regular basis. We need Jesus to forgive us for misrepresenting him. And we need to ask our kids to forgive us for giving them a half version of the gospel.
Jesus is to be our model of love. The church is the place we try to work it out in community. Do our kids understand this?
I don’ think kid’s care so much about “cool church” as we think…
My middle daughter is wooed to Jesus through the relationships in her life. I have been consistently overwhelmed at the women surrounding her (female youth pastor, worship leader, and BEAUTIFUL neighbors) who are pouring into her heart and showing her what love and God look like on a daily basis. She is encouraged to serve alongside them, care for their children, worship God with all her heart and model their love in action.
She could care less if they are cool. She cares that they love her and they love God.
I remember the same thing in college. I heard a young pastor explain Jesus in a simple way. He was bursting with fire and exuberance. And I was drawn to the person of Jesus Christ. I couldn’t help but connect with authentic love, relevant sacrifice and a purpose to seek and save the lost, the broken and the disenfranchised of the world.
It’s about love –not REASONS why the church is blowing it. Those are just distractions.
When I hear someone go on and on about what moves them, I can’t help but get excited. It’s why we sob at weddings and act like idiots at football games.
We engage in a story that’s bigger than ourselves and we remember what it feels like to be alive.
And we fall in love all over again.
I don’t think our kids are leaving because we (the church) haven’t tried. We have tried until we are blue in the face. I just think we have forgotten the main thing.
We think kids want skate parks and nifty bracelets, Chick Fillet and hip lounge chairs.
Really? I think a crappy old sofa with a caring young adult eating PB& J’s would suffice.
When we allow Jesus to not only transform us but to move within us, love becomes the fabric of our being.
And it changes lives.
I believe the biggest obstacle to our kids not finding Jesus is not the failure of the church…I know the church has tried, it’s a failure to remember what drew us to God in the first place.
There are many reasons to wait for sex –good reasons, lame reasons, and even churchy reasons. But there aren’t many compelling reasons to actually deter most of us from the dirty deed.
Sex feels good and life is hard enough, so goshdangdarnit, what kind of overbearing big brother meanie wants to take away all our fun any-who?
I never had to deal with all the Christian angst of dating the first time around. I was just a big old sinner. After a solid year in a sorority much of my anxiety swirling around sex dissipated. I determined I was a decent person “morally,” compared to the other slutty coeds, because I reserved sex solely for relationships (which might have included friends with benefits too).
I picked up my ex-husband in a bar when I was twenty-one. Three and a half years later we married and sometime in between meeting him and saying “I do,” I fell in love again and brought another guy into the relationship.
It was Jesus.
About a year into the whole Christian dealio, I tried to get on board with the fire and brimstone “purity” message I heard preached at my church –apparently to scare all the singles into behavior modification. So I tentatively asked my (then) fiancé if we could cease having sex and wait until we were married to resume our intimacy.
He vehemently said “no,” Ummmm. Ok.
Ten years later when my ex-husband departed into the arms of another woman and left me with two small children I finally got my chance to try dating as a Christian.
But I don’t know if I was in any way more prepared despite the Christian sticker on my bumper.
Yes…I had given my heart and soul to Jesus. I knew all the Bible verses, taught women’s Bible studies and was even enrolled in seminary. And yet I still slipped up in the sex area.
I wanted to honor God. I earnestly tried HARD in my dating relationships to avoid sex. And it worked –once. I was in one relationship where we were both committed to purity and didn’t compromise (and then I found out he was still “technically” married and that ended fast). But the other five relationships, during my time as a single Christian woman were a little murkier. We might not have had intercourse, but then again President Clinton redefined modern sex anyway, right?
When I met Tim Keller, now my darling hubby, I was living in this wishy-washy land of sexual compromise. I wanted to be pure but I’m not sure I believed it was even possible. I didn’t meet many men, even supposed good Christian men, who actually walked the talk.
Pastor Tim Keller was an anomaly –an attractive single straight man of thirty-six years who didn’t grab my boobs on the second date. And even though he wasn’t wealthy from a worldly perspective, usually a non-negotiable in my materialistic heart, he was hot, clearly loved Jesus and had CHARACTER (something lacking in most of the men I dated).
When Tim asked me to be his girlfriend, about five weeks after we started dating, he slipped a purity ring on my finger and fell to one knee. He implored me, “to wait for him, to wait for God to bless our relationship, and to give “us” a chance to build true intimacy without sex complicating things.”
It sounded like a lot of waiting and I’m not that patient.
And so I freaked out (internally of course) and smiled and cried tears of sheer terror, thinking “How in the heck am I going to remain sexually pure when this man is so yummy?”
Tim also told me he had a zero tolerance policy for error. If we messed this up: (A) he would not marry me, and (B) he would resign from the church for moral failure.
Now I didn’t want the poor man to lose his job, but dangling the condition of “sex=no wedding” really sealed the deal. I was head over heels in love with Tim by then and I wanted to marry this man so bad I would wear a habit and chastity belt with a big lock impervious to his washboard abs if I had to.
But something drastic happened to me during our fifteen month courtship. Something so radical it rocked me to the core.
First, I became aware of how oftenIpushed to be physical because I needed reassurance that Tim cared for me and was committed to the relationship. I saw how I used my sexuality to manipulate, to hold power over and to get the attention I desperately craved.
Without sex I had to learn how to ask for what I needed. I was able to see how Tim treated me even when I didn’t meet all his physical needs, what it meant to work out our problems with no “make-up sex” to gloss over the deeper issues, and I had to learn how to compromise –because I couldn’t hold out on the booty to get what I wanted.
Poor Tim! I tempted him in the beginning. I was so bad. I wore a pink string bikini to a singles ski retreat we both attended and had the audacity to rock it at the hot tub –heathen temptress that I am. But he held fast, kept his hands to himself and didn’t get out of the Jacuzzi for a very long time.
And slowly I realized by his not being physical, he was actually showing me he loved me.
Real love. Not SEX/LOVE…the kind of love that holds your hand when you are losing the fight to cancer. It’s love that sees beauty under the wrinkles and bald spots. It’s love that protects and heals and cherishes. It’s the sort of love that doesn’t leave when it gets tough and its old people in the park holding hands kind of love.
And Tim was telling me by his behavior I was worth waiting for. With every smile he told me I was a beautiful treasure and he would not steal from me until it was time to enjoy this gift from God –within a committed marriage relationship.
And somewhere along the way I started to buy into it. (Not so easy when you have abandonment issues) And I saw, really saw, for the first time in my life the way God sees me.
Valuable. Treasured. Worth dying for.
And I believed it –because someone showed me a glimpse of the divine.
Purity isn’t just about being a good Christian and playing by the rules. It’s about treating another human being with dignity and respect, even when they don’t deserve it.
Purity restored me.
I am a different person because of my husband. Tim Keller walked the talk.
And maybe God tells us to wait for sex not because he’s mean, but because he loves us more than we love ourselves.
When I tell people how long my engagement was –a mere four and a half months, they look surprised.
“Well we waited,” I stammer trying to explain.
“Oh, so you dated for many years and then you finally tied the knot?”
“Uuuhhh, no…we dated for fifteen months and WAITED to have sex.”
“What? Why? Are you Mormon?”
“No.”
Blank stare.
And so I explain why we chose purity and a bit of our story (see “Is Purity Relevant Today” for an explanation). But then the inevitable happens. The sex questions start.
“Ok, so I get the beautiful romance part. You guys have this awesome God love, but how did you know the sex part wouldn’t suck? “
And I know what they are really saying is… “What if he can’t perform? He could be a secret eunuch, or have erectile dysfunction, or be weird, or a thousand other awfuls. And how would a silly little pure girl know?” Smart girls apparently try the meat before they buy the bull.
Big gulp. “I knew his parts worked because for fifteen months he lived in a constant state of anticipation. No amount of denim can hide that. When he kissed me goodnight I could tell the man had finesse. When he cuddled me I knew he was tender. And when I looked into his eyes I saw raw desire -a caged lion waiting to be unleashed on our honeymoon night.
“But how far did you go? Where did you draw the line?”
When people ask me this I want to weep. Because it means there is a fundamental disconnect between their belief in God and BELIEVING God. And I know the difference because I walked down this road too many times.
Here is what I discovered…If I BELIEVE God, I trust that waiting for the booty will be awesome. I trust He loves me more than I love myself. I trust He has a chosen a man and/or woman who will delight me. And ultimately I trust if I follow his guidance I won’t be unsatisfied.
If I believe in God but make up my own rules I am operating under selfish tendencies. I take because I feel entitled. I corrupt because God is withholding. I use sex to get my needs met-attention, power, control, release, and manipulation. Sex becomes an act.
When I remove God, who is love, out of the mix I remove real love from sex. You might love sex. You might even feel loving towards the person you are sleeping with. But let’s be honest here…real love is patient, it is kind, it does notenvy, it does notboast, it is notproud, it does notdishonor others, it is notself-seeking. It does not rejoice in evil, it always protects, always trusts, always hopes, and always perseveres. (From 1 Cor. 13)
When was the last time your hook-up encapsulated any one of these?
Real love doesn’t leave you wondering if the guy is going to jump out of bed in the morning and bail before you smell the Folgers. Real love showers your front door with rose petals on Valentine’s Day instead of a text at 4:00pm saying “Happy Heart Day.” Real love doesn’t push for a blow job because it’s technically not intercourse. And real love doesn’t leave a girl in the dark wondering how he feels about her.
I wasn’t disappointed on my wedding night (don’t want to boast here). But even if there were issues, I am confidant my husband would have been open with me. Love does not deceive. So when I hear about people who played by all the rules and waited for sex and then had problems, I have to ask if maybe they substituted rules instead of relationship: if authenticity and vulnerability were masked by a fear of being known? The idea of naked and unashamed is not merely sexual -it includes full disclosure.
Purity is about love. About treating someone the way you want to be treated -with honor and respect. It’s not about how far you can bend the rules. That’s just a warped form of legalism.
How far did Tim and I go? We kissed. We necked like high school kids at a Drive In theatre and there were too many nights to count when Tim actually got up to run to the restroom and called me from his car ten minutes later. Like Joseph he fled from temptation, even though half the time I didn’t even know he was struggling. He also had a group of guys holding him accountable.
But everyone’s limits are different. If you can’t kiss a girl without ripping off her clothes then don’t kiss her. Give her a peck on the check. If holding hands makes you crazy…well then you might need some professional help. And if you tell me you can go really far without any issues, you’ve missed the point entirely. (Re-read 1 Cor. 13).
Waiting might look different to each individual and/or couple but purity is the same. It’s not about how far is too far -it’s about choosing to BELIEVE God has got your back and marriage is well worth the wait!
Once a month or so I head over to Mission Hills Church and teach a class to a group of unwed pregnant young women and the occasional baby daddy supporting them. I run into a cast of characters at Birthchoice but this week might have been the most memorable EVER.
In the front row sat a very pregnant and lovely young gal. Beside her was an older gentleman who resembled Santa Claus. The age gap between the two was close to forty years.
I almost asked if the man rubbing her shoulders and cooing support in her ear was her grandpa or father but I felt prompted to hold my tongue.
As I started the class I bantered with the girls and asked a few questions. When I got to these two, it didn’t take long before the story poured out.
Santa was the baby daddy.
And it wasn’t pretty.
The girl clearly had some mental disabilities attributed to an accident during her teen years where she had lingered in a coma for weeks. Although still able to comprehend, there was dullness behind her beautiful brown eyes. She struggled with social filters and boundaries.
And from a distance (without perspective) it looked like this man had taken advantage of a young mentally disabled girl.
My stomach dropped and I choked back the rising waves off revulsion behind my tongue.
But as I talked, I secretly watched the two and how he interacted with her. Surprisingly he was gentle and patient and kind. I saw true delight and care behind his eyes.
Huh?
And then all of a sudden Jacob came to mind –Jacob, the biblical patriarch who dealt a shady hand all his days. This is the man who stole a birthright from his brother Esau, finagled the best livestock from his father in law and took his wives and kids and hitched the first camel train out of town.
But then one night it all came crashing down and Jacob was forced to confront his brother and the past.
He spent a night near the river Jabbock (which means wrestle in Hebrew) and Jacob did exactly that –he wrestled with God. He came clean. He owned his past and persistently dealt with his junk until God allowed him to pass through. He came out on the other side wounded (with a lingering blow to the hip) but able to move into his future unencumbered.
And here was this man before me -a man with kids my age who had impregnated a young girl, who didn’t run for the hills.
He didn’t abandon her.
He didn’t encourage her to abort the baby.
I imagine he had to face some ANGRY parents and possibly law enforcement.
Instead he owned it.
He accompanied her to parenting classes, assembled a team of friends and family to assist her and stayed close by her side.
I saw a man wrestling with God.
His sin was painfully obvious. It was the eye-sore in the room. Even the young knocked up sixteen year old girls felt justified that their mistake certainly wasn’t as heinous as his.
And I was reminded that in God’s economy nothing is ever black or white. And grace and forgiveness and sacrificial love trump righteousness every time.
God gave me new eyes that night. I saw myself in this man and my own struggles with failure and brokenness. The Jabbock nights flashed before my eyes where I have confronted the past and wrested with my soul.
The nights where I have ripped open the shiny facades I hide behind to expose the real me within and acknowledge the deep crevices and prickly darkness to the one who knows my most secret sins.
I saw a man who courageously faced his grimy soul and sat before me humbled and refreshed.
Not many sixty-five year old men get to be new daddies. There was humor and pain as he shared his unfortunate tale.
And it made me smile.
I believe God brings families together in the most bizarre ways.
I believe he can restore relationship out of ashes.
And I believe he can build something new and wonderful out of a contrite grandpa/baby daddy holding the hand of his greatest source of brokenness and future blessing.
A few weeks ago I started writing for a new client who runs a relationship bootcamp and does intensive couples coaching.
At first I thought it was simply a good writing gig. But now, after writing and researching numerous articles on marriage (and tips to improve relationships), I wonder if there isn’t some sort of grand scheme going on here behind the scenes.
Is the big man upstairs giving me subtle hints?
Jesus, are you trying to tell me I could use a little relational coaching myself?
Because in the last few weeks I’ve done a ton of research and it’s becoming increasingly clear I have a preschooler’s knowledge of building a healthy relationship.
Despite what you may believe, pastors and writers and ministry types don’t always have it all figured out. We swamp through and muddle and muck up relationships too.
(But generally we get fired if our marriage tanks so we have more incentive than you to make it work)
Now I am certainly no expert.
I’ve been divorced. I know there is no “happily ever after.”
But I do believe marriage is worth every tear and argument and struggle.
I know the rewards are far greater than the tough moments. I know there is crazy joy in the journey, delight in the dumbest moments, and glimpses of God through imperfect people trying to love and sacrifice for each other.
As much as I love my husband, I am not the best wife. I honestly cry when I think of how badly I want to be better and the reality of who and what I am.
Broken. Selfish. Human. Capable of snarky quips and extreme disrespect.
But in that space I invite God to do a miracle; to somehow take my tiny little seed of faith and build something more beautiful than I can imagine.
A marriage. Unity. Family. Interdependence.
A strand of three chords not easily broken.
Here are the articles I wrote in the last few weeks for Relationship Help Centers. Check out their website and look at the bootcamps for marrieds and singles.
Because can’t we all use a little help in our relationships?
–Blessings,
Sam
How to Rekindle the Passion
In days of old, people accepted marriage would have its doldrums, but these days unhappiness is not an option. According to a survey conducted among 100 family lawyers –boredom and monotony are now the number one reasons for divorce. Our expectation for marriage is that it will be fulfilling, vital and passionate. But how do we keep the flames of passion strong? Lust initially propels us to the altar. It’s when endorphins surge through our brains and create a chemical cocktail that makes our beloved appear bigger than life. But what happens when these sexual opiates fade – as they inevitably will? This becomes the defining moment when a couple can choose whether or not they will continue to have passion in their relationship. Yes, passion is a choice. I can already hear you grumbling…”how am I supposed to feel something I don’t feel?” Read More
#1 Tool to make Marriage Last
If there was one thing –one tool to apply to your marriage today that would yield the biggest relational return, wouldn’t you want to own it? No matter what the cost, no matter what the effort…you would have to have it. But what if you already owned the tool? What if you simply forgot how to use it? According to SmartMarriages.com and leading marital relationship experts, you already have what it takes within you to build a foundation for a great marriage. In fact, you’ve probably used this tool before –back when you were dating. Back when you doted on and lingered over and filed away in your mental rolodex every single word your beloved uttered. So what is the MAGIC TOOL? Read More
10 Tips to Fight Fair
When conflict erupts in a marriage –an inevitable part of all relationships, you can choose to draw closer to one another or barrel through, throw darts and damage the relationship. But unlike the old Pat Benetar song, love does not have to be a battleground. Instead, the marriage relationship can be a safe place for reconciliation when differences arise. But it takes a little sweat equity and a sound plan. A clear-cut and pro-active approach to conflict sets the boundaries before the argument arises. Set the Rules Here are some “Rules” adapted from Ground Rules for Handling Conflict, John A. Larsen, PhD and “Rules for Fighting Fair” by Priscilla and Greg Hunt, PhD Read More
My hubby and I arose early on Saturday morn, climbed in the car and drove a mere hour and fifteen minutes up the mountain into another world.
We were the keynote speakers at the Radar LoveConference up in Lake Arrowhead –a mountain community so resplendent in the summer all I could think about was the movie “Dirty Dancing.” For some reason, the lovely lake resort where Baby danced her socks off kept coming to mind.
Radar Love was a Southern California singles conference focused on finding love, how to love and God’s plan for love –all the easy stuff, right?
But what surprised me the most about our little getaway was how often in our crazy busy schedule my husband and I forget to take the time and effort to practice the very things we preach on.
I’m sure none of you would never forget this “oh so simple” principle either?
There are always plenty of and GOOD reasons and justifications why we slack in our effort towards our spouse.
Here’s mine: Tim and I have struggled through a tough season. Circumstances beyond our control have buffeted our ship through stormy waves. We have clung to each other, held on tightly to our kids and trusted God to see us through the squall.
And we have survived –yes, and we have grown closer –certainly, but there are also wounds and nicks to our heels that we have allowed to sneak into our marriage and quietly steal our smiles.
And sometimes we don’t even realize how much we miss each other.
Without three kids distracting me, without teen angst and toddler meltdowns, no work stress and ministry challenges, without seminary weighing Tim down with a paper due every stinking day–we were left with nothing to do but speak to the group –something we adore doing together and focus ALL our attention on one another.
In the afternoon, relaxing in a beautiful cabin with endless views, I watched my husband practice his talk for the evening event. And as he wove together a message of hope and practical dating application, I sat there on the comfy sofa and fell in love with my husband all over again.
I watched him tell hilarious schticky jokes and “cat” analogies that rolled me. I took in his passion for single adults, clear calling from God to minister and bursting energy to do God’s will –and I let it roll over me and penetrate my heart.
And once again, I was in awe of the man I call my own.
I remembered how funny and smart he is and I let go of my resentment for the seminary who steals my husband away from me. I watched his hands waving around to enunciate his words and I thought of those same hands that care for me and hold me when I am scared. I caught the twinkle in his eye when he looked at me with longing and I felt the same spark deep within me.
Later that afternoon, we had lunch on the lake and took the time to date.
We walked hand in hand by the water, laid down on a dock in the sunshine side by side as the speed boats gently rocked the floating platform, and shared our hearts with one another. We explored the little lakeside village, slurped down cappuccinos and met friends for an impromptu chat.
We spent the day giggling and loving and lingering –and it filled my low bucket to the brim with “Keller Love” (which is the best kind of love of all).
Even though I know better –I sometimes forget that one of the best investments I can make is in my marriage. One night away in a cabin with my sweetheart is worth six months in counseling fees. And certainly a week away would be even better.
Now, your idea of fun might not be preaching together –but for Tim and I who share this passion it was restorative. Maybe you and your spouse love to scuba dive, or watch indie films or climb mountains. Every couple is unique in their bonding method, love language and shared interests –but however you love, don’t stop making the time to do the little things.
Don’t let the JOY slip through your fingers.
My friend Nick Arnette (master emcee and comedienne extraordinaire) sent me this great article from Single Dad Laughing. The author –Dan is twice divorced and shared a long list of all the things he wished he had done differently in his marriages -“16 Ways I Blew My Marriage.”
And it resonated with me because of the weekend I spent making the effort to love and ENJOY my husband. As I read this blog, I mentally checked off all the things we got right in one tiny weekend.
Love is a choice.
It takes concentrated effort, sacrifice and time. It takes letting go of the walls we build around our hearts and letting God restore us so that we can fully give and receive love. Love is NOT EASY but there are moments where despite our humanity –God reaches down and we get a glimpse of the divine.
I have a perma-smile when I think of this weekend and the time I spent with my husband.
Because this is the man who makes my heart sing.
Do you need to sneak away for some intentional love time with your spouse?
I should have known I was in over my head when the woman in reservations asked for my credit card to hold our brunch seating.
But after all my diligent research I figured it couldn’t cost TOO much to celebrate our Daddy in style.
I threw out my old gift giving ways this year. No ties or sauces for daddy, no sports visors or knick-knack items –this year I wanted to dazzle my man with creativity.
My husband Tim adores Bloody Marys so I did a little sleuthing. I discovered the famous drink was initially formulated by the St. Regis Hotel in Manhattan, New York. I also found out the St. Regis in Monarch Beach, not far from our home, offered a three-tier Bloody Mary bar on Father’s day. And the best part…each custom concoction was only a mere $10.
It sounded reasonable, so I called and made a reservation at Motif –the main restaurant at the hotel.
Father’s Day arrived and my hubby was dressed up and amped up for his special DAD activity. After an early breakfast in bed, church, and dropping off the big kids, Tim and I and little Kolby headed over to the stunning hotel overlooking the azure blue sea.
The valet whisked our car away and we entered the grandeur of the St. Regis. Vistas and views met our every turn and rich people glided and tottered by in impossibly high heels. We found our dining establishment and checked in with the hostess who handed us glasses of champagne while we waited. I people watched and played with Kolby who climbed up and down the majestic staircase.
Tim ventured into the restaurant to take a peep at the Bloody Mary bar. His eyes were big when he came back and he bubbled over with energy as he described the decadent condiments and accoutrements. Then he casually inquired how much the brunch cost.
“I’m not sure,” I replied. “The drinks are only $10 so it can’t be that much, maybe $45 a person?”
This seemed like a large number to me.
Tim wandered away again as I downed my bubbly and played with my little girl. He came back a few minutes later with a giddy and dazed look on his face.
“You must really love me,” he stuttered.
Quizzically, I turned. “Yes, I do…why do you say that?”
“Because the brunch is a bit more than your highest estimation,” Tim gulped.
“How much is it?” I whispered.
“It’s $115 a plate and the Bloody Mary Bar is on top of that,” he frantically giggled.
I furtively looked around. “Maybe we can run?”
Then I remembered they had my credit card. We were stuck.
My eyes filled with tears. “I’m so sorry; I didn’t know it was so much.”
Tim looked at me with laughter, kindness and mirth. “I know honey. It’s ok. But we are going to get our money’s worth today.”
We stayed for almost three hours and ate and ate and ate and ate. And truthfully, it was the finest buffet experience of my life. Kolby even took a nap and they brought her a blanket to lounge.
I’m realizing over and over again, that although I have plans, God loves nothing more than to mess them up. His ways are mysterious and daring. He invites me to trust and to lavish love on my husband.
It wasn’t in my budget. I had to charge my almost $300 brunch, but my husband felt treasured and esteemed in a different way than normal. It was extravagant love and maybe that’s reason enough to be a little crazy and a lot of broke.
Oswald Chambers said…
“It is more and more impossible for me to have programs and plans because God alone has the plan, and our plans are only apt to hinder Him, and make it necessary for Him to break them up.”
