one of the many, many lessons i keep learning

my sweet friend lauren wrote a wonderful post the other day about her struggle to enjoy the process, the learning, the in-between times instead of living life longing for the ultimate goal of said process. i feel like that is something i/we as a family keep coming back to.

we have been supporting adam through medical training for nearly five (with at least 2.5 yrs to go!) years now and it is so, so easy to live in the future when he is done training, acquired a job, paid off loans, and we can finally start to enjoy life and start living. i often catch my mind going there longing for the day when we "arrive." do you know what happens here? my idol-factory of a heart has created an idol of "one day." i feel completed once i arrive "there" instead of sinking my heart-roots down deeply into Jesus and allowing Him to sustain us by His abundant grace and contenting myself in Him.

i was reminded of this post about impatience being an unwillingness to suffer. as Christians, we are often called to suffer as we live amongst the broken, we ourselves get sick and sin. we long for the day when all will be made right by the Lord, but we still must live here and be sanctified here. we live in a tension.

i look forward to the day when my kids play well together, when they have learned patience and kindness, when they sleep through the night without fears, sickness, feedings, when we are done having babies (we still would love more, but boy is it exhausting!), when we finally decide on how to educate them, when we are able to travel as a family without trips being completely exhausting and stressful, when adam and i have adequate time together without feeling like we are in constantly in danger of losing touch, when i can run and sing as much as i would like to (that's in heaven i think) and the list goes on...but if i live there...in the future, i miss the joys the Lord teaches our hearts in the trenches, in the struggle, in the waiting.

one of my very favorite verses is micah 6:8 and we heard it in church this morning sung beautifully...
"He has told you, O man, what is good;
and what does the Lord require of you
but to do justice, and to love kindness,
and to walk humbly with your God?"

the content of that verse is a lot of why our little family feels called to live where we do, in the city with lots of brokenness surrounding us. we want justice for our neighbors (why we push back against the drug-dealing and prostitution) we want to extend kindness (why we struggle, struggle, struggle to wrap our minds around homelessness and how to love them well and carefully). we want to "walk humbly," knowing that the Lord redeems and He has dignified and privileged us to be a part of His kingdom redemptive plan. He does not need us at all as He is sovereign over the entire universe, but humbles us by indwelling us and using our feeble efforts for His glory.

i noticed something new about this verse this morning though. we get so discouraged with the slowness of change, the woman who tearfully told us of how she lost everything (family, stability, jobs) because of her crack addiction, but she is powerless to stop on her own. though we fight and fight, our neighbors still hand out the very thing that is killing so many. but micah 6:8 does not say that the Lord requires you to obtain justice, but to "pursue justice." it does not say to obtain kindness, but to "love kindness." it does not say to arrive at humility, but to "walk humbly." it is active, process, working not arriving, striving, struggling, living in the moment kind of stuff. that is what the Lord wants. if that is the case, then that needs to be what i want. billy graham used to say "the Lord rewards faithfulness, not fruitfulness." i want to be faithful. oh Jesus, soften my heart!

also from this morning's service and my prayer:
confession
"Your asked for my hands, that you might use them for your purpose. I gave them for a moment, then withdrew them, for the work was hard. You asked for my mouth to speak against injustice. I gave you a whisper that I might not be accused. You asked for my eyes to see the pain of poverty. I closed them, for I did not want to see. You asked for my life, that you might work through me. I gave a small part, that I might not get too involved. Lord forgive my calculated efforts to serve you---only when it is convenient for me to do so, only in those places where it is safe to do so, and only with those who make it easy to do so. Father, forgive me, renew me, send me out as a usable instrument, that I might take seriously the meaning of your cross. Amen. "