If You Empty It, It Will Fill

Dear Old Friend,

I was warned that this would happen, but I have to say, I didn’t believe it.  Before I retired I worked at least forty hours a week.  This means that I should now have forty prime hours, plus all of the time I spent commuting, freed up on my calendar every week, right? These were hours I was going to fill with all manner of edifying activities; and, once I got past the whole Law of Retirement mindset, I was back to being excited about the idea of doing things like walking every day, catching up with old friends, playing with my grandchildren and writing, to name a few.  That list represents the more enjoyable end of the spectrum, but I was also serious about my desire to begin methodically sorting through the junk squirreled away in each room of our home and ruthlessly paring it down.

What has happened instead is that I have spent an inordinate amount of time figuring out things like how the online bill pay system works; indulging my new passion of finding a cure for, or at least relief from, every ailment known to mankind through the use of essential oils; preparing food for my husband to take to work, so that he doesn’t keep stopping for expensive unhealthy food every day; and running all kinds of errands for people who don’t have forty empty hours on their calendars and are excited to have found someone who does.

I have also rediscovered the fact that the regular, mundane household chores, like keeping a clean kitchen, vacuuming, dusting and doing laundry are not just one and done.  No, you have to spend the same amount of time, day in and day out, doing the same things if you want to stay on top of it all instead of living like a barbarian and just letting it go, doing what you can when you can, like I did when I was working! Trying to live like a normal member of polite society eats up a lot of those empty hours!

I have found that, although sitting at a desk handling all kinds of problems all day was mentally exhausting, running around doing household chores and errands is equally physically and emotionally taxing and most days I find myself, mid afternoon, fighting the urge to take a nap.  A Nap!  I haven’t succumbed to that temptation yet, because I fear it will be game over if I do.

The problem is, I have yet to go through one single closet!  But I did spend a couple of days watching my grandsons during Spring Break, which led to a serious discussion about possible plans for Summer Break since I am now available.  That might not be exactly how I pictured it, but, hey, spending time with my grandsons was definitely on my list!

The bottom line is, somehow I feel like I am just about as busy as I was when I was working.  Don’t get me wrong, I am greatly enjoying what I am doing, especially in comparison, but I see that I may never be able to fit in all of the things I thought I was going to do.  The hole has already filled up.

As I was thinking about this, Aristotle’s theory that nature abhors a vacuum popped into my head.  You know, the idea that things seemingly can’t remain empty; they will, almost of necessity, fill up again?  And that thought reminded me, as most things do, about something in scripture.  It is a story Jesus told about something else which was emptied and then filled up again.

The story is found in Luke 11:24-26:  “When the unclean spirit has gone out of a person, it passes through waterless places seeking rest, and finding none it says, ‘I will return to my house from which I came.’ And when it comes, it finds the house swept and put in order.  Then it goes and brings seven other spirits more evil than itself, and they enter and dwell there.  And the last state of that person is worse than the first.”

Many people have taken this story and have used it as the basis for a whole philosophy of demonology.  I, on the other hand, see it as a very accurate picture of what happens to any and all of us when we set out upon a moral improvement project.  We, with all good intentions, kick out the offending sin, or bad habit, or unhealthy way of living.  We resolve to do better.  We throw out all of the processed foods in the pantry; or the booze; or we put a block on the computer to keep us from visiting offensive sites; or we remove that one person’s number from our phone; whatever the behavior is that we are determined to change.  Then we tidy up our lives and expect that will do the trick.  Then we gain back all the weight we lost, plus ten pounds; or, we fall off the wagon and get dragged down the road, in the mud, face first.

Luke 11 began with Jesus casting out a demon which had rendered the person mute.  Jesus obviously cared then and cares now about rescuing us from the damage caused by the presence of sin in our lives, but then he told that story to say there is no permanent solution to sin except his own imputed righteousness and his substitutionary death on the cross.  He knew that even if the demons were cast out they would return, with friends. The casting out of demons was only a temporary fix at best. The salvation he came to provide was eternal.

Jesus ended chapter 11 with the scathing list of woes for the Pharisees, all based on the repugnant fact that they were only concerned about keeping up an appearance of goodness.  Theirs was a surface religion; caring about the cleanliness of the outside of the cup with no concern for the filth on the inside. He finished by telling them, “Woe to you, experts in the law, because you have taken away the key to knowledge.  You yourselves have not entered, and you have hindered those who were “entering”. (Luke 11:52)

The key to knowledge which the teachers of the law had taken away was the promise of a Messiah, a Savior, Christ himself.  Instead they presented the people with the false key of moral goodness, or obedience, by which no one would be able to unlock and walk through the gates into the Kingdom of God.  Sadly, that’s not so different today, is it?

Regardless of how my retirement hours are filled, or how many times I flounder in my attempts to be a better person, I am so grateful to know that I am loved purely on the basis of what my Savior has done for me.

Love Always,

Bonnie 

The Effects

Dear Old Friend,

You’ve certainly known me long enough to be aware that I tend to get pretty animated about the things I believe in.  I have been told that I would make a good salesperson because of that tendency; but, years ago I discovered that was not necessarily the case when I tried my hand at selling furniture as a way to support my family.  I inevitably sent people home to “think about it” because I could not bear to be pushy.  Although, truth be told, I was never passionate about furniture, which is why I jumped at an office position as soon as one opened up.  But, if you get me started on something I am passionate about, like the gospel, I can’t shut up! And, while nothing will ever surpass the gospel or my children and grandchildren as far as passions go, I have apparently found a new one; quite unintentionally.

My daughter, a mother of two young boys, is very health conscious.  She is always looking for ways to do things naturally, removing as many additives and chemicals from their lives as possible.  Not too long ago she mentioned to me that she was interested in learning more about Essential Oils.  I nodded encouragingly, but I thought of it as just another trend du jour; something that all the young mothers-in-the-know were getting into.  Initially I paid little attention.  Then, as she learned more, she kept talking to me about it, and, wanting to be a supportive mom, I listened and asked a few questions.  When she signed up so that she could get a discount on the oils she was buying and offered me her discount on any products I might be interested in trying, I graciously ordered a couple of oils which I thought I might possibly use so that she could get money toward the oils she wanted to buy. 

You see where this is going, right?  You know that my shoulder and neck have been hurting since my car accident, despite pain meds and a chiropractor, so I wasn't expecting much when I tried one of the oil blends on that area; but, to my amazement, I got so much relief that I had the first good night’s sleep I’d had in months. Soon, I had my own discount, and a kit full of oils.  When one of the oil blends in my kit took away my toothache pain, which ibuprofen hadn’t even touched, I was hooked! 

While I am all for young mothers being proactive by trying to find ways of eliminating as many drugs and chemicals as possible from their children’s lives, you and I are Baby Boomers! We’re a part of that great generation which is now completely falling apart!  Most of us are walking pharmacies, probably in large part due to all of the drugs and chemicals we have been exposed to across the years. 

Case in point:  I have GERD (gastroesophageal reflux disease).  Before I discovered Proton Pump Inhibitors (like Prilosec, Nexium and Protonix) I lived in fear of waking up at night with the horrendously corrosive stomach acid backing up into my throat.  When that occurred, I couldn’t breathe and coughing only seemed to make it worse. It was a terrifying experience.  For me, those drugs were life-altering and I have taken them for many years. 

Then, recently, I began seeing articles about them. The first one was after I was diagnosed with osteopenia (bone loss), the forerunner of osteoporosis, where the bones become weak and brittle. The article indicated a possible link between that condition and PPI’s.

Then, I saw this article, which suggests a 44% higher risk of dementia for those using PPI’s. Forty-four percent!!!

And the final straw was this article regarding increased risk for heart attacks down the road, with use of PPI's.

I was stunned, and felt caught between a rock and a hard place! I couldn’t imagine going back to the dread of throat-paralyzing stomach acid, but the alternative looming possibilities certainly didn’t seem like a beneficial trade.

Enter oils.  I was pretty scared to stop the PPI’s, because I read that there would initially be an overproduction of acid, but I found an oil blend which I could take internally, a couple of drops in a teaspoon of honey, and it worked immediately to regulate and maintain!  I have only used it one to two times a week, and have experienced no problems at all!

A long time ago I was struck by the thought that there is simply no perfect way for humans to deal with all of the effects of living in a fallen world.  We do one thing and it unbalances something else and leads to a different set of problems.  As far as sin itself is concerned, there is a perfect answer, but it is not from any human wisdom or effort. It is the perfect sacrifice of God’s only Son; His perfectly obedient life for my sinful life; His torturous death as the penalty for sin, which should have been my penalty.

But, as far as the effects on our bodies, we do what we can to correct what we can and then trust our feeble frames to our faithful creator.  It’s all grace.

Love Always,

Bonnie

P.S. If you have any questions, email me at theoilofgrace@gmail.com

The Law of Retirement

Dear Old Friend,

I'm pretty sure that my letters to you will now primarily chronicle this new journey I have embarked upon called retirement.  This is actually week one of the “new normal” because immediately after my last day of work I took a road trip to attend my littlest grandson’s first birthday party which was exactly the kind of thing I looked forward to being able to do once I was able to choose what to do with my own time.  So, now that I’m back I decided today was the day to sit down and do some planning, some restructuring, in keeping with my new life.  I came armed with a calendar for a schedule and my plans. 

I had a plan for the daily upkeep of my house; a more detailed plan for sorting through each room and each closet and drawer in each room; a separate plan for attacking the laundry/storage room, which holds all of the accumulated treasures/junk from several generations of my family; a plan for writing; a plan for correspondence; a plan for handling finances; a plan for adding to my finances; a plan for grocery shopping; a plan for cooking; a plan for spending time with friends, which includes social media; a plan for spending time with my husband and extended family; a plan for spending time with God.  The idea was to work out a schedule which included time for all of that stuff, preferably making the things at the end of that list the first things on my schedule. 

Sheesh!  I was overwhelmed before I could start.  Every one of those things is important to me, but seeing them laid out before me as the expectations I had for myself, I immediately felt inadequate and demotivated.  Why? Because they stopped being the things I could hardly wait to do and became The Law of Retirement.

So, sitting at my dining room table with all of my good intentions spread out in front of me, I pondered my abrupt change of attitude.  The first question I asked myself was why I felt the need to make all those plans and put them on a schedule to begin with.  I had some logical reasons.  I wanted to be organized, not haphazard.  I thought I needed an overview of all I wanted to accomplish in order to prioritize and allow time for each of them.  In theory, my plan was to ensure that I would be able to do the fun things as well as the not so enjoyable things.  But, in reality, I discovered that lurking beneath my logic was my need to justify my decision to considerably reduce our income by becoming a stay-at-home retiree; which I recognized immediately as being amazingly similar to my need from decades earlier to justify being a stay-at-home mom.  

In our ‘you-are-what-you-do’ society, retirees don’t count for much.  The first question I got every time I told anyone that I was going to retire was, “What are you going to do?”  At least people know what stay-at-home-moms are going to do, even if some people absurdly view it as a menial unpaid position.  But, what purpose do retirees serve?  What gives our lives value?  We are supposed to have an answer ready which proves our worth and I was determined to have a schedule full!

That line of thinking also seemed an awful lot like the Christianity I grew up with:  Christians expecting other Christians to justify their existence.  ‘Your salvation cost Jesus his life, so what are you going to do in return?’ was the question, and we were supposed to have a ready answer to prove that we were not just freeloading off of Jesus’ grace.  I labored under that burden far too long until, blessedly, I learned that I already had all of the justification I needed in Christ, and that he never asked for or expected me to pay him back for his free gift.  He simply wanted me to live from the position of joy and relief at not having to fulfill some Law of Reimbursement.  And, the clearer and more real that became to me, the freer I was to share that good news with others and to do the things I actually wanted to do.

This brought me back to my Law of Retirement which, as laws always do, was accusing me before I even got started, placing me under its rules and obligations, making me its slave; at least that’s how I felt. So, I decided to apply my freedom in Christ in this situation, too.  I am not going to labor under the burden of trying to prove my worth or justify my existence, and I am pretty sure that the clearer and more real that becomes to me the freer I am going to feel to dive into everything I was going to do all along.

I feel better already!

Love Always,

Bonnie

Just Christ and Him Crucified

Dear Old Friend,

I haven’t written to you in a long time.  I regret that for a number of reasons, but mostly because, in losing touch with you I’m pretty sure I lost touch with “the basics”.  I’ve been very busy lately trying to understand things.  I’m certainly not saying there’s anything wrong with wanting to have a deeper understanding of spiritual truths, but I have found that there is a pit on that path into which you can fall; and right now I feel like I’m sitting in the bottom of that pit, too tired to climb back out.

My brain hurts.  I feel battle-weary and confused.  I’m not always the fastest or the brightest, but even I know this doesn’t feel like Good News.  I’ve been listening to lots of opinions as to what makes up that News, and there are almost as many different opinions as there are people as to what should or should not be included under that banner. 

Is there such a thing as grace on the ground? Should we as Christians constantly be striving, albeit poorly, to offer to others the same love, mercy and forgiveness we have been given; and, if we should, is there a limit? And, if there is, what would that limit look like? Or, is that strictly just my Old Adam trying to get some skin in the game? Should I think at all in terms of desiring to please God with my life, or is that a completely false way of thinking, because he is already well-pleased with me because of Christ?

If I feel good and happy when I have been given an opportunity to minister to someone, is that the Holy Spirit, or is that just me pridefully trying to take the credit which belongs to God alone?

If I think that Scripture seems to take for granted that Christians will be baptized and take communion, does that mean that I am adding something to salvation by grace alone, through faith alone in the finished work of Christ alone? 

Does “sanctification” mean to become more and more and more holy?  Can there actually be such a thing as “more” holy?  And, if there is, does it have anything to do with my improving moral behavior?

Does the fact that I want to be loved and accepted and try to act in ways which will bring about that result necessarily mean that I am wearing a mask?  And, is the answer, instead, for me to be totally vulnerable to other fallible human beings who “should” respect me for it and then let down their guard in return, but who are much more likely to never quite look me in the eye again?

You know what?  I don’t know!  On any given day I might just give you a different answer to any of the questions above, and probably not even realize it.  It’s even quite likely that I have given different answers to those questions on the same day; maybe even in the same conversation.  And, I am just about as certain that is true of everyone I have been listening to as well.

Are these important questions? Yes.  Are there absolute answers to those questions?  Maybe.  Probably. Do I know of anyone who knows all of the answers?  Besides God, no.  There might be, but at this point I am not aware of just who that person or group is; and, at this moment, I am tired of trying to figure it out.

At this moment, I just need to know that Jesus loves me, despite the fact that I might not have every jot and tittle of my theology figured out.  I need to know that his love for me is no more dependent on my total grasp of grace than it was on my total obedience to the law.  I need to have God “restore unto me the joy of my salvation.”  I want to stop worrying about getting it right and rest in my Savior’s arms.  For right now I’m deciding to know nothing but “Jesus Christ and him crucified.”

And I just wanted to say that to someone who loves me as I am.  Thank you for being that someone for me.

Love Always,

Bonnie

Fears and Faceplants

 

Dear Old Friend,

As you know, I just came back from helping to take care of my precious four year old grandson who had a very serious infection in his foot, which began to spread up his leg, and initially wasn’t responding to antibiotics.  It was a pretty scary time!  I am so grateful for all of the people who prayed and for all of the people at home and at work who were so supportive and made it possible for me to go.  My daughter needed the help and rest and I was so glad to be able to give her a break and to spend time with my sweet boy in the hospital.

Because he was being given IV antibiotics, my grandson had been stuck with needles repeatedly in order to find a good vein.  In addition, blood had to be drawn periodically to be cultured, and it could not be tainted with the antibiotic, so this required sticking him again.  Each incident was pure torment, with that precious child crying and begging them as politely as he could to please stop.  It was heartbreaking! As a result, every single time anyone came into the room, he would eye them suspiciously and ask, “Why are you here?” Explaining to him that the nurses and technicians were only doing these things to help him get better did absolutely nothing to allay his fears. Eventually, even when there wasn't anything being done to him which was hurting him, he would cry and scream anyway, in fearful expectation that it would. 

Once the IV antibiotics finally took hold and got things under control, the goal was to get him ready to go home with oral antibiotics; but, sadly, after repeated failed attempts to get him to swallow and keep the medicine down, it was decided that a PICC line had to be put in his arm so that he could continue IV antibiotics at home.  Because that line was inserted surgically, thankfully he did not have to feel the pain of another IV stick; but, when he woke up and we explained that, with his new line, he would not feel any pain when the nurses hooked him up to the antibiotic or flushed the line, he didn’t believe us!  He still cried each time they touched the new line until he finally realized that we were right.

Once they were satisfied that the PICC line was functioning properly and that my daughter understood how to properly care for it and was comfortable with administering the antibiotics herself, my grandson was finally released.  While he was in the hospital, because he was not feeling well, he had been content to quietly play on his iPad, listen to books and watch television, but once he was home and feeling better he was full of pent up four-year-old energy.  Unfortunately, he still had to be careful with his PICC line and had to limit the use of his foot.  Consequently, he would play quietly until he couldn’t stand it any longer, and then he would suddenly become a little wild man.  He would jump and roar, laugh and throw himself around trying to release some of that energy. 

On one occasion he decided that standing on the sofa next to me and then falling face down into my lap was a great idea.  I tried to dissuade him, to no avail; so, every time he fell I would catch him to keep him from face planting into the arm of the couch or crash landing onto the floor.  Fortunately he does not weigh a lot, but it was still a challenge to catch a launching child who was all flailing arms and legs!

After a number of death-defying leaps, he became upset that I was catching him.  He interpreted my actions as attempts to prevent him from doing what he wanted to do, rather than as life-saving interventions.  As his frustration mounted and my explanations of why I was doing what I was doing failed to mollify him, I finally told him that we needed to stop this little game; then, because my daughter called me at that moment, I stood up to go into the other room.

Rather than stopping his acrobatic feats when I turned my back, my grandson saw only a great opportunity to do exactly what he had wanted to do all along, now that I was out of the way; and, you can imagine what happened next:  He face planted directly into the arm of the sofa and wailing ensued!

While I comforted a very sad little boy and explained that this was exactly what I had been trying to prevent (a pious way of saying ‘I told you so’), God made a point of reminding me that I had no room to be self-righteous, because my grandson and I are a lot alike.

When the trials of life come, I quickly become terrified of what pain might lie ahead for me or for those who matter the most to me.  It makes no difference to me that God might be doing something beneficial, I still become suspicious of his goodness and distrustful of his love. I am certain that I know what is best, and I resent what I perceive to be God’s efforts at keeping me from getting what I desire.  I have even been known to propel myself headlong into situations where I know God doesn’t want me to go; but, instead of telling me ‘I told you so’ or getting angry with me when I get hurt, God always picks me up, gently takes me in his arms and tells me that he loves me and understands my fears.  He whispers to me about how, because he knows my frailty, he sent his son to rescue me, even when I wasn’t ready to admit I needed to be rescued; and, he assures me that there is nothing I could ever do which would separate me from his love.  He simply gives me grace.

No matter how old we get, my grandson and I will always be God’s precious children and we will always need that grace!

Love Always,

Bonnie

When It's Not Safe to Pray

Dear Old Friend,

After all of the years we’ve known each other, you know that I am a great believer in prayer.  I pray about everything, big and small.  In my opinion there is nothing too insignificant to bring to God; I believe he’s not too busy to care about even silly things like lost keys.  He’s a God of tiny details like the number of hairs on my head, so I never worry that I’m bothering him with my seemingly insignificant requests.

I also know there’s nothing too big for God to take on.  I’ve seen magnificent “yes” answers to prayers about huge things, where the seemingly impossible happens.  I have also witnessed “no” answers to prayers, where God in his infinite wisdom had other plans.  Prayer has then helped me to accept God’s sovereignty.   

I have also always counseled others to pray.  If I’m asked to impart wisdom about a particular situation, I may offer my thoughts and then recommend that they not rely on my judgment, but rather bring their questions to God in prayer and he will give them the true wisdom they need; but, often I simply decline to offer my opinion and send them straight to prayer.  I didn’t realize just how frequently I gave that answer until my daughter told me about a conversation she had with my son-in-law who was struggling with something.  She suggested that he call and talk to me.  He smiled and said, “I don’t have to call her because I already know what she will say.  She will tell me to pray.”

I’m only telling you this so that you can put into context how odd it is for me to say that there are things about which I have learned it is not safe for me to pray.  I have so much emotional investment in these specific issues, that when I pray I become utterly desperate, to the point of demanding that God give me the “yes” answer I believe I must have.  I rail and wail; I beg and plead; I work myself into a frenzy and feel myself drawing a line in the sand, belligerently declaring in my heart, if not in words, that if God doesn’t give me what I am asking for, I am done; and when I finish praying I feel terribly alone.

I am sad to admit that scene has played itself out many times; but, thankfully, what God has taught me is that, even when I have followed that path, and I feel like the Incredible Hulk who has just alienated God with my rage, he does not leave me alone.  He understands what prompted my desperation and loves me, and assures me that he is big enough to handle my fear and anger.  But he has also taught me that I am much better off when I simply do not go down that road.

The alternative, for me, is to stop when the panic starts to rise, and tell God, “You know how I feel”, and leave it at that.  If that doesn’t stop the desperation, I have some precious friends, like you, to whom I know I can turn, and ask to pray for me.  I don’t just mean “pray for me”, in the way we typically mean, but, to pray instead of me; to pray in my place; to pray because it is not safe for me to pray. 

When I do that, I always feel the prayers wash over me and I have an immediate sense of peace.  The pure grace of God extended to me through those who love me.  I am writing this to you because I find myself once again in need of those prayers.  I cannot tell you how much it means to know that you will pray in my stead.

Thank you, dear friend.

Love Always,

Bonnie

 

Red Light, Green Light...Blue Light?

 

Dear Old Friend,

As you know I just came back from visiting my three year old and five month old grandsons.  I had so much fun!  There is so much difference between how I was with my children and how I am as a Grammie.  Maybe this whole idea of a second childhood is at its best when it comes to playing with your grandchildren.  I play with great abandon.  I’m silly and spontaneous and inventive.  I was never like that with my kids.  When I found time to play, I remember it being pretty unimaginative and regimented.  Maybe this had something to do with feeling the weight of responsibility for teaching them something important in every activity.  I don’t feel a bit of that weight with my grandsons and I absolutely love the freedom. 

I have also discovered that I am the one who is learning the important things as I play with them.  Since little children have not yet become sophisticated at disguising their human natures, I can clearly see myself and all of us in the way they approach life.  I have an example I thought you would enjoy.  My daughter was playing an impromptu game of red-light-green-light with her three year old.  He would run until she said “red light”, then he had to stop where he was and wait for her to say “green light”, at which point he would run again.  This reminded them both of something they had done before which they enjoyed.  They taped red, green and yellow pieces of construction paper on the floor.  The idea was to start at a green square, run until you hit a yellow square, which meant you had to slow down, and then finally come to a complete stop on a red square.  I could see that this game had many practical applications.  It taught color recognition as well as the concept of traffic lights, and, it even taught the importance of obeying the law.

The three year old was dispatched to fetch the construction paper while my daughter got the tape.  He came back excitedly with a handful of colorful papers, including blue.  My daughter proceeded to tape the green, red and yellow “lights” at various intervals around the house, but my grandson insisted that he wanted to tape the blue paper, too.  My daughter patiently explained what each of the colored “lights” represented and encouraged him to stick to just those three.  He was fine for a few minutes, faithfully following the path and its instructions; running, slowing, stopping, then running again.  But soon he was quiet and we saw that he was taping the blue “lights” to the floor.  My daughter tried to reason with him, but he was adamant, so she shook her head, shrugged her shoulders and let him continue. 

Soon my grandson was attempting to follow the path, but, because even he didn’t know what he should do when he came to a blue square, he lost focus and was soon just running aimlessly.  My daughter finally called out to him in a frustrated voice, “See; now you are just running with total disregard for the law!”

I thought that was hilarious, but my daughter didn’t think it was nearly as funny as I did.  All I could think was that we are all just like my grandson.  God gave us the law, which, if learned and followed, would make our lives so much simpler and more pleasant; but, we just can’t do it.  We insist on going our own way, sticking in our blue meaningless squares, and once we have gotten our way we lose all focus and are soon running in total disregard for the law. 

The consequences of our actions have more of an eternal significance, however, than those of my three year old grandson; so, knowing that about us and loving us, God sent his son to follow all of the rules for us, and then credited us with his perfect obedience.  His son then took all of the punishment for our willful disobedience, so that we would not have to.  Such an unbelievable gift!

We come from the womb with little rebel hearts, don’t we!  It sure is a good thing our Father loves us so much.               

Love Always,

Bonnie