Peace With God Before Peace With Self

 

We will have peace with ourselves, and then with others, when we first find peace with God in regard to how He has made us. 

copyright Barb Harwood

It's Always Been the Music

As I folded laundry to Spotify tonight, a peppy Club Mix came on, a bouncy flight of joy that forced my foot to tapping, my entire body soon ad-libbing into a slight sway-bounce-sway as I put the last of the towels and socks away.

I marveled at the happiness and childlike sense of pure fun the song imbued.

It occurred to me how dissension, disgruntlement, and being disturbed and pre-occupied with self-imposed burdens seemed oddly juxtaposed to tunes such as this dancing in the air.  

And then flickers of my own past conflicts crossed my line of sight: of impatience with my own children when they were small; misunderstandings and mean-spiritedness among family; the inability to remain true to one's self and to God; the faults of false pretense and worrying about what others think, all ran through my mind as sad, unnecessary truths in contrast to this delightfully playful music now filling my space. 

I thought, "How could there ever be dissension when music, be it of angels or electronica, is so able to quickly, and graciously I might add, swallow it up and prevent it even happening in the first place?"

The song ended, leaving my mind and inner being in smiling good-cheer. 

And that's when I realized that my wellbeing has almost always coincided with the listening to music.

It’s always been the music: 

The music that eased me awake, as a senior in high school, at five a.m., accompanied by the green glow of the eight-track in my bedroom, and enabled me to rise out of sleep and force myself out the door to catch the bus by ten minutes to seven in the cold January morning. All so that I could enter a high school building I didn’t want to enter, in order to spend the day with other students who only made me nervous and self-conscious.

Music that enlivened my free-spiritedness throughout my twenties, revealing a vista of new artists and dream-like live concerts. 

Music that soothed as I rocked my babies, and evolved into toddler singsongs on cassette tape that we chimed in with everywhere we went, and that made us laugh.

Music that stepped in along with sobriety, replacing the stadium-rock too heavily associated with having much-too-much of a good time.

Music that traveled loyally with me as I drove, alone, or late at night down the highway with the people I love the most sound asleep around me, as we journeyed home from an adventure or family holiday gathering.

Music that healed the wounds and heartview, so that today, I can once again listen to the old music I once had to swear off—its negative associations now faded; it’s melodies now familiar friends just as fun as they were before, but posing no threat whatsoever.

Music that is now a library of life on a planet called Spotify. Like being handed the grandest of pearls, the entering into the never-ending rabbit hole of tempos, beats, lyrics, and voices is priceless. Now all my existence is ministered to, enlivened and accompanied by portals of mood and meaning, fun and silliness—songs for every pulse beating on any given day—sad or glad, crazy-electronic-dance lively, or out-of-sorts-pensive. 

Music. 

I understand now that quality of life depends on it.

The times I’ve failed most as a person, I realize, is because I took myself and my surroundings too seriously, brought about when I turned off or tuned out the music. 

But, of course, music has an answer for that regret in its ever-present always-ness that, when it sees me coming, greets me with, “Are we ready? Let’s do this,” as if I’d never stepped away, as if I’d never put myself first in thinking that problems and daily obligations are too serious for songs and new album releases. 

Music will always wait and be, for the loyal, and for the prodigal too.

I pick up my headphones, slip them on, and in a wash of instrumental alchemy, enter Eden—the way the world, my world anyway, was meant to be; can be; might be, or simply, contentedly, just is. 

Copyright Barb Harwood

How to Handle a Drama Queen or King

Did you ever have a conversation with someone that turned out to be a one-way ticket to their drama?

Whatever we say, if it isn’t within the strict boundary of their thinking, we will hear things like “That’s not what this is about,” “You’re taking me too literally,” "That's not what I said," and then the going-over again of their “concern” until, they hope, we begin to commiserate along their lines.

And when we don’t say what they hope to hear, in order to end the “going over it again,” we literally have to interrupt and change the subject or end the conversation entirely.

When we hang up or walk away from such conversations, we find ourselves asking, “What just happened?”

And when the other person hangs up or walks away, they are often frustrated and angry in our refusal to tow their line. They then immediately turn their interaction with us into yet another complaint that they can then get on the horn and lament and exaggerate about to others. 

I found a great definition of this behavior on the internet that sums it up perfectly:

“Being crisis-prone in relationships means that you’re constantly creating drama with your significant other. People with these tendencies tend to look for arguments just to create diversion or stimulation, or perhaps to allow themselves to come to the rescue when things go wrong.”

We all have someone like this in our life: the phone rings, and we brace ourselves for what is coming: the voice on the other end somberly pontificating how “something needs to be done.” It could be about an aging parent or grandma; their disgust at so and so's wedding invite list (especially if their name isn't on it!); the way so-and-so is raising their kids; the boss who is not crediting their efforts. 

In these conversations, we will also most likely at some point be contaminated by any number of maudlin or outrageous fantasies about any number of people’s past, present or future lives. 

These folks are rarely intending to actually do anything about the issues they raise. What they usually settle for is just to go on and on, feeling superior in their ability to detect calamity around every corner, and self-important in their endless jabbering about issue after issue.

If they do ever act on their concern, it will be theatrically drawn out due to their heightened but false sense of peril.

When I made the decision several years ago to set boundaries between myself and these Chicken Littles, I did it so that I could first of all stop inciting and engaging in this sort of dialogue myself, and second, so that I could maintain sanity going forward.

Because these folks are notorious in their defensive manipulation of throwing everything back on us when we don’t commiserate, or when we refuse to be an audience for their gossip or their going on and on with no indication they desire a solution, we will never get anywhere, and will most likely make things worse by any attempt to speak logically. 

The best way to not lose ourself or our integrity is to respond in ways that will almost always frustrate them but free us of their ongoing attempts to draw us into their melodrama. Once they realize we aren’t biting, they will give up and stop approaching. 

1. The minute they bring up a third person not involved in the conversation, I ask whether they have talked this over with that third person. If not, I tell them “I don’t feel comfortable talking about this person, or any person for that matter, behind their back. The respectful thing to do is to talk to the person.”

If they persist in going-on about that person, I acknowledge their concern and again firmly direct them back to discussing their concerns with the third party.

2. I ask questions instead of making statements or suggestions. For every thought they verbalize, I ask, “Who said that?” or “Who suggested that?” or “Where did that come from?” If they answer that nobody said or suggested the thought—that they were just expounding on “what could happen,” I respond with,

“Well, that’s just speculation. The only way to know for sure is to go and talk to the person directly, or go handle the situation directly. If you’d like me to be there when you talk to them (if it involves an aging parent or a grandparent), I’m willing. But until then, I don’t know what to tell you.”

At that point they will attempt to reiterate everything they’ve just said (because when we say these things they don’t feel heard). They may then attempt to heighten the importance of what they are saying with further embellishment and exaggerated detail.

3. That’s when I say, again, “I don’t know what to tell you” and change the subject, at which time the small talk quickly gives way to “Goodbye.”

Crisis-prone people are addicted to drama and meddling in other people’s lives the same as an alcoholic is to booze. 

Maybe at first we sheepishly have to admit we rather like being drawn into their drama, either because we want to be confided in or because we can’t help wanting to hear the gossip. However, once we’ve allowed ourselves to be party to their behavior, good luck extricating from it.

If we try to “help” or “be there for” crisis-prone individuals in one problem, a litany of new issues is sure to follow and they will not hesitate to increasingly come to us, as we soon find out. 

Certainly we can’t always know when someone first reaches out if they are a crisis-prone individual. But after taking their first problem seriously, and then being contacted, shortly after, with the second crisis, we can easily discern that this is going to become a way of life with this individual. 

But we can still put on the brakes. After just a few conversations of staying the course (as outlined in the three tips above), the other person will no longer enjoy their conversations with us, and will cease reaching out. 

When I enacted boundaries with crisis-prone people, one person complained, “You don’t talk like you used to, you don’t communicate like before.” 

I take it as the most wonderful of compliments. 

We are under no obligation to submit to these “resounding gongs” and “clanging cymbals” of hand-wringing busybodies and habitual personal whiners. 

In our growing maturity and wisdom of God, we have the discernment as to when a conversation is a person’s “here we go again” or when it is a truly serious, rare and sincere problem which we must, and will graciously, give heed to. 

Copyright Barb Harwood

Born Again: What Is It, Really?

The "new life," this being “born again,”—the rising up from the depths of bleak and disgruntled, sometimes cruel, always fallen, soul—the onset of hope sparking in our life via the Spirit of the Man who instilled it—what is it, really?

Is it an escape into our own heads, jostling for a position of superiority and advantage in an—of course—obedient humility that beckons others to join, but secretly doubts they will, and even sometimes takes pleasure that they ignore, so that we can live in continued elevation over them?

At what point does the “new life” actuate and cease in it’s striving, praying for, and serving in a good-soldier act of forcing it to bloom?

Is it verified by the cessation of immorality and debauchery alone?

Is it stamped as "Official" by words upon words single-mindedly spoken to the “lost?”

Is it curated in the hours and years spent in cavernous rooms and rural, stained-glass atriums filled with singing, praying and preaching?

Is it watered and fed in the cloistered language of evangelical Christianity spoken almost conspiratorially with other like-minded groupies?

What does “born again” even mean?

If life as a pilgrim in this virgin land of Holy Spirit has taught me anything, it’s that living the new life in Christ:

Isn’t church attendance.

It isn’t being known as a prayer warrior (and how is it that so many people seem to know this about those so labeled?)

It isn’t about our vocabulary.

It isn’t about now being His child.

It isn’t about having inside knowledge.

It isn’t about our weekly schedule revolving around spiritual activities.

It isn’t about the nature of our work, charity, volunteering and sacrifice.

It isn’t about making our congregations proud.

It isn’t about growing those same congregations.

And it is never about dogma, doctrine and denomination.

So what is it, really, this being “born again”?

I would say it’s about the “for starters:”

For starters, it’s putting down the Iphone when our spouse or child enters the room, and keeping it down.

It's showing grace to outsiders the same as to those we consider insiders.

It's choosing to see the humanity, the God-givenness, in every person, not just those in our camp.

It's exploring our fear behind differing opinions, policies and worldview, and allowing that those fears may be rooted in nothing more than our own insecurity or neediness.

It's ending the taking of so much in the world at headline or face value.

It's when asking questions, other-centeredly sincere and not self-interestedly intrusive, replaces telling.

It's inquiring of ourselves why we are so vocal about many things but are not in a position, or have not sought a position, in which to make a positive difference.

It's stopping to consider whether we live in an "us versus them" mentality or one of "goodwill toward men."

It's our Holy Spirit-given right to say "No" to the church and any of its entities. The church or a church doesn't own us. Nor does the pastor. Only Christ can lay claim to each one of us. The Holy Spirit is a gifter of discernment in all things, including and perhaps especially, religion. 

Born again is the all-encompassing of everything most of us leave out when we enter in to this new life with Christ. 

It is being the family member and person we profess to be, but almost always fail to be because we put more effort and belief into the profession than into the being. 

It begins with the smallest everyday aspects of life and remains there. It does not graduate from the little to the big, leaving first things behind. 

The miniscule is that towards which the Spirit will steer, pulling out all the stops to get, and to keep, us there. Assurance will follow, in the form of a growing sense of no longer being out of sorts with God.

And once we set foot—in that sweet, delicate, luscious, unbridled glen of simple clarity—what I can describe only as the second childhood of Christ’s endowing—our hearts and minds, in maiden voyage agreement, will want, and choose, to stay and live.

Born again.

It’s a pilgrim’s landing on a shoreline initially laden with ballast which we are instructed—not by the Spirit but by man (our own self and other men and women)—to take up as a cross. But so often, as it was for me, it was an imposter cross, one that Christ never asked me to carry. 

Born again is the Spirit unwaveringly whispering us to where Christ intended we be all along, unyoked from the density, heft and pressure of the outward cup.

Born again. 

It’s noticing, naming and owning, finally, through the true Spirit’s eyes, the dirt—our dirt—on the inside of our very own cup, and starting there. 

And as the Spirit cleanses, the wings of Christ gather us under Him, because we are now willing to make Him our home.  

Copyright Barb Harwood

Love is Kind When it Allows Others the Freedom to Be, and to Become

The following quotes are from the book, Patience: How We Wait Upon the World by David Baily Harned:

"Why is it written in 1 Corinthians 13 that love is not only patient but kind? What new element does kindness contribute? Part of the answer is that patience can be exercised, as we know, in sterile as well as fruitful ways. It is not invariably a good even when formed by love, because some loves are no more than selfish attempts to assure the continuation of our lives through others. The patience we show others in order that they might become more like us is no virtue but a work of pride, and as great a vice as impatience...Human patience is meant to reflect in some small way the forbearance of the God who made men and women to offer their own distinctive contributions, not only in what they produce but in who they are. Patient love is kind because it guards the time and space of others so that they may become whatever they choose to become, in their own way and at their own pace." 

"Perhaps the most difficult lesson any man or woman must learn is to let a spouse or child or other loved one have room...Love can stifle and suffocate...if it is not shaped and ordered by constant patience." 

(bold and italics mine)

Each Person's Dignity Comes From Being Made in the Image of God by God Himself

 

"We must not trade" (engage or operate) "in the secular narrative that says we display our prowess by the clothes we wear, by the jewelry we sport, by the cars we drive, by the virtues we signal, by the things we Tweet, or whatever. We reject all that, because we live in the story that says we were enslaved to sin and Christ bought us out of slavery. That's our identity. My dignity doesn't come from my achievements, or from the way that worldly people look at what I've accomplished and are impressed by it. My dignity comes from the fact that first of all I'm made in the image of God--and in Christ, God set his love on me and sent his Son to die for me. And that totally reshapes how you imagine yourself in the world." 

(bold and italics mine)

This quote is by Jim Hamilton, a professor of Biblical theology, pastor and author, and appears in an article titled, The Lord's Supper and Racial Unity, published in the book, A Biblical Answer for Racial Unity

Becoming A Child of Mature Faith

 

Oswald Chambers:

“God is love. In the future, when trial and difficulties await you, do not be fearful. Let not this faith slip from you—God is love; whisper it not only to your heart in its hour of darkness, but here in your corner of God’s earth. Live in the belief of it; preach it by your sweetened, chastened, happy life; sing it in consecrated moments of peaceful joy;” Oswald Chambers, The Love of God

“The mature saint is just like a little child, absolutely simple and joyful. Go on living the life that God would have you live and you will grow younger instead of older.” Oswald Chambers, The Psychology of Redemption

Quotes about Dietrich Bonhoeffer from two men who knew him as a person who lived out what Oswald Chambers describes above: 

“The yoke he took was easy, and the burden of his master light; the vision cleared as he looked to Jesus, away from himself, and what years ago he had written of the Christian’s hope, was now fulfilled: ‘He becomes what he was—or rather, never was—a child.” 

Franz Hildebrandt, in his eulogy of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, quoted in the book, Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy by Eric Metaxas

“Best (a prison mate of Dietrich Bonhoeffer in the last days of Bonhoeffer's life) described Bonhoeffer as ‘all humility and sweetness; he always seemed to me to diffuse an atmosphere of happiness, of joy in every smallest event in life, and of deep gratitude for the mere fact that he was alive…He was one of the very few men that I have ever met to whom his God was real and ever close to him.’” 

Quoted in Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy by Eric Metaxas