The promise of happiness

I am not always a happy person. Sometimes I am angry or sad. And according to my husband, those are really the only three emotions possible. (And I just let him believe it because who really has time to explain to the men the complicated colors of a woman's heart?)

For years, I thought it was my husband's job to make me happy. I mean, that's what marriage is all about, right?

Note: If you really believe that it's your husband's (or wife's) job to make you happy, you've got big problems. Get some help. Professional help.

When I realized that no man was going to be able to fill the God-shaped hole inside me, I began pursuing God more relentlessly because I then knew that it's God's job to make me happy.

Yeah, right.

Nowhere in the Bible does it say ANYTHING about God promising us happiness. As a matter of fact, any time there's a word that might be translated "happy", it is accompanied by things we think of as miserable, like "Happy are the poor in spirit..." or "Happy are those who mourn..." (Mt. 5)

I often think that God has a responsibility to answer my prayers. And I think that just because I ask for something, He should make it happen. And I forget that he's not a genie, there to cater to my every whim. I think that just because I pray fervently and ask in a "spiritual" way, I can believe that He will deliver.

I'm not saying that He doesn't answer prayer. I think He absolutely does. And I think He's longing to give us our heart's desire. But when we ask the Lord to give us our heart's desire, we'd better make sure we've examined our hearts and found them to be turned toward Him.

Yesterday at OHC, Randy spoke from James 4. This particular verse caught my attention: "You do not have, because you do not ask God. When you ask, you do not receive, because you ask with wrong motives, that you may spend what you get on your pleasures."

Ouch.

Maybe one of the reasons God doesn't answer some of my prayers is because I'm asking with "wrong motives". And maybe the discomfort that comes from some of those unanswered prayers is God's way of molding me.

If there is a single theme that God has been screaming at me for the past year, it is this: "I've promised to make you HOLY, not HAPPY."

Now that doesn't mean that He wants me to be miserable. It just means that He doesn't promise that I'll feel at ease and "happy" all the time down here on earth. After all, I am not made for this earth. My citizenship is in heaven. Why should I love it here? (More on my crazy obsession with heaven later.)

So while I generally wear a smile and enjoy my daily life, I am beginning to quell that constant need for happiness.

I'm finally coming to believe that holy WITH Him is way better than happy without Him.

Real moms multi-task.

And if that's true, I'm in big trouble.

Half the time, I think I have ADD. I'm like that babysitter kid on The Incredibles who says she wishes someone had played Mozart for her as a baby while she was sleeping because "half the time, I don't know what anybody's talking about".

But I really have to get it together. There's a lot to do, and only a little bit of time.

I gave up list-making a long time ago. Lists are supposed to make you feel like you've accomplished something. But I always focus on the things I haven't checked off, and end up feeling like a failure.

Yet tonight, I'm making an extensive list (and it will be HUGE). And then I will sit down with my calendar and figure out what goes where. I'm making a commitment to work hard to get my to-do list done, but I'm also going to try not to make myself crazy when I don't quite get it all done.

You can bet I'll let you know how it goes.

Just how still are we talking about here?

"Be still and know that I am God."

All my life I've heard lessons and sermons and series on this topic. All these people telling me to learn to carve out a time to be still before the Lord without distraction so I can really focus on His greatness and His message for me.

Just this week, I heard a lesson from Chip Ingram (by video) in which he recommended stepping back every 6 or 8 weeks to regroup and refocus. (Great lesson, by the way.)

But here's the deal: I am wife to a man who travels with some frequency and mom to four kids, ranging in age from 2 to 10. Stillness is not had easily around here.

So I've really struggled as to how to make this stillness thing work. This morning, I looked up the passage because frankly, even though I'd heard it my whole life, I didn't know exactly where it was. And do you know where it is? Among the commandments in the Torah? Wrong. In some important New Testament speech where Jesus is inspiring His followers? Wrong again.

It's in a Psalm. Psalm 46:10, to be exact. (But I'm guessing you already knew that.)

Since when did any commandment come from a book of poetry? And why are we all riled up about one single little line? I say we should just throw this one out as a little something David said to make the song rhyme, but didn't really mean for us to take so seriously.

But I guess I know better.

If you read the whole Psalm, it's all about how the Lord defends us. He is the fortress protecting us from our enemies.

He is fighting off satan and his nasty demons, and all He wants is for us to be quiet? Doesn't He want some help? How can He expect us to just sit back and watch while He fights?

Funny, huh? The Creator of the Universe would actually need our help. But if I'm being honest, I have this attitude a lot. We've all thought we should be DOING more and BEING more.

But what He desires from us is relationship. He wants us to sit at His feet and let the chaos fade into the background as we drink in His words and catch a glimpse of who He really is. And how much He really loves us.

I don't always have hours to be still and listen. But I catch little moments. Like when I'm up in the middle of the night holding a sick baby. Or when I'm in the car and my babies have fallen asleep. Or when Andy's out of town and I've managed to get all the kids down by eight and there's nothing good on TV to distract me.

Stillness does happen. I just have to learn to recognize the moments and take full advantage of them. I have to train my mind to carve out as many of these moments as I can. And I have to let the Lord teach my heart to crave them.

Side Effects

I'm really enjoying this journey toward discipline.

I love that I'm beginning to talk to God more intimately and freely. My home is mostly neater (is that even a word?), and when it's not, I nag myself less. I'm beginning to see the value in daily exercise and food management. I love that the relationships with my husband and kids are so much richer. I love that my life's colors seem less gray and more brilliant in color.

I'm really enjoying this journey. Mostly.

But there is something I could do without. Sorrow. It seems that the more in love with Christ I am, the more I hurt for my friends who are making bad decisions.

For instance, a girlfriend whom I've loved for several years has pretty much set fire to her life, convincing herself all the while that the flames will keep her warm. She's listened to satan whispering in her ear for so long that she can no longer discern his voice from the voice of her Maker. And it breaks my heart.

It breaks my heart in a way that I didn't know it could be broken. And I'm having to learn to compartmentalize to some degree, in order to do the things I know the Lord requires of me to care for my own family. But in the back of my mind, the sorrow always lingers.

Now, I've experienced depression. I understand depression all too well. Depression is the sickness that keeps you from seeing colors as brightly as you might. It keeps you from any kind of clarity or productivity. But this is different.

It's a sorrow born out of love for my Lord. And because it comes from Him, I can accept it as good and right.

And so while I don't enjoy it, I do find joy in it.

But even here, there is some sort of balance. The Martha in me wants to explain to my friend that she's got it all wrong and she needs to pull herself up by the bootstraps and do the hard work it will take to put her shattered life back together. But the Mary in me wants desperately to help her understand "how wide and long, and high and deep is the love of Christ" (Eph. 3:18). I often hear this called "speaking the truth in love". Difficult stuff.

So for now, I check in with the Lord each morning, ask Him to direct my day and send peace to guard my heart.

And I wear water-proof mascara.

I come from a long line of love.

And by that, I mean that not only has the Lord blessed me with parents and grandparents who love the Lord, but with an amazing lifetime collection of women who have influenced my life for Him.

I can look back on my life and see no gaps in the chain of women He has sent to minister to me. I may not have recognized it at the time. I may have been longing for something entirely different in a friendship, but He knew what I really needed, and He has been so faithful to meet each need individually.

It's like He's created designer friends and mentors, just for me. His love for me is that extravagant.

So on Wednesdays, from here on, I want to honor women, one by one, whom the Lord has blessed me with. These are the Marys and Marthas that taught me specific lessons, and they deserve a standing ovation for putting up with me and loving me through some tough times. I'm going to make an attempt to put them in chronological order, but I may end up backtracking occasionally.

First up is my mom. I know, pretty unoriginal. I'm not really sure where to put her on my timeline, but she's been there since birth, and I was NOT an easy delivery, so she deserves the first spot.

The greatest gift my mom has given me is the gift of hospitality. She is the ultimate Martha. That woman knows how to run a kitchen and feed a ton of folks, and do it with delight. She taught me how to make people comfortable in my home. I wish I could count the number of times we had extra people at family holidays and dinners. She never thought twice about including someone she recognized as needing connection, and she provided it with great enthusiasm.

Every now and then she gets a little carried away. One year, she had invited a woman to our Christmas dinner. She was careful to instruct us to make eye contact with this woman when we spoke to her, as she was deaf, but seemed to read lips pretty well. I don't remember how it all came about, but at some point I think someone asked her if she had been born deaf. She gave us this puzzled look and said, "I'm not deaf." I'm not sure I've ever had to work so hard to suppress laughter.

But that woman needed us that day. And though some of us may have seemed a little awkward around her, my mom never did.

She has a gift for loving people who are difficult to communicate with. She has a gift for loving people whom others have forgotten about.

I struggle with loving the unlovables. But it isn't for lack of a good example.

Thank you, Mom, for entertaining like Jesus would. Your example has not gone unnoticed.

Just one thing

Last night, we got out all the Christmas stuff, decorated the tree, and proceeded with what has become the annual reading of Andy's journal entries for Christmases beginning in 2004, which was apparently the year he turned into his father and began recording the details of our thrilling daily lives. Seriously, he could tell you what we ate for dinner for the past five years.

What I always find fascinating about his journal is that it contains a buzillion facts that I forgot five minutes after they happened, but not a single feeling. My journal (if I were disciplined enough to actually keep one) would be filled with memories of joyful moments and hurt feelings. But it would absolutely not occur to me to record what I made for dinner, unless it was this amazing gourmet meal, which has happened maybe twice the entire 15 years we've been married.

But I will tell you one thing: Andy writes every day. He is naturally disciplined in that respect. He has always had goals and ambition, the creativity to make a plan, and the discipline to follow it. And I love that about him.

So today, I'd like to choose just one thing that I can do every day between now and Christmas, in the hopes that it becomes such a part of my routine that I do it every day without a lot of effort. I'm making a commitment to exercise 30 mins. every day. It might just be walking in the neighborhood with the kids, but I'm going to do it.

My dirty little secret

I have lots to do today. I'm not even going to bother with a list because who really reads that stuff anyway?

I did manage to get quite a bit done yesterday, despite the fact that one of my friends is in the biggest emotional crisis of her life and I've spent a lot of energy worrying about her and on the phone with her. They are definite Mary moments, and I feel perfectly at peace with the fact that my kitchen floor is STILL dirty because PEOPLE ARE MORE IMPORTANT THAN THINGS (things being chores and stuff, in this case).

Disclaimer: Mom, if you are reading this, please stop now. I'm about to say something that could change your life, but stop now because you will never be able to look me in the eye again.

One area I've learned to balance Martha and Mary pretty well is with my husband. I know that if I cook 4-5 times per week, make a pie every so often, and spend money only on what is reasonable, then he's pretty happy with the Martha Amy. But he also really loves that I arrange the babysitters and get all prettied-up to spend an evening just hanging on his arm and talking to him, and listening to him. If you'd have told me that first year of marriage that we would get along this well, I'd have laughed at you.

Over the past week or so, I have had more conversations about what a healthy marital sex life looks like than ever in my life. I'm beginning to feel like Dr. Ruth. My marriage is better right now than it has ever been. Andy and I still fight on occasion, but we adore each other. I never would have dreamed marriage could be this good. So I'm going to tell you my secret. The secret that I firmly believe began this incredible high our marriage is on. Are you ready?

Each man on earth, no matter how hard he tries to avoid it, has a catalogue of images in his head of scantily-clad women. Even the man who has worked hard to keep his mind pure has this catalogue. It might consist of the Victoria's Secret ad he sees as he walks with his wife through the mall. Or of the secretary at work who bent over to pick up something she dropped, unaware that he can see straight down her top. And those are just the men who work hard at it. Everybody knows this, right?

And I think that, deep down, we all know my little secret, too. But it has shocked me how many people have reacted with an "aha" moment to this one little thing. So here goes:

My mission, as a wife who loves her husband and wants this marriage to be rock solid, is to have as many images in that catalogue of myself as possible. When he is away on business, I want him to be able to recall images of ME, and I want him to be dying to come home to me.

There it is. Some of you are saying, "Huh? That's it? That's all you got?"

But some of you are thinking, "Holy cow! Why didn't I think of that? I'm running to the mall to buy myself something pretty right now."

Yes, my body will never be Vic's-runway-ready. But believe me when I tell you that he doesn't care.

Ask him what his fantasy is, and then BE that. If only for one night. With the lights on. He will NEVER forget it.