Family, Friendship

Let’s Let Others Repent

For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.

Romans 3:23 ESV

There are things I hesitate to share because friends and family immediately disagree. They are wrong, and I have become unwilling for them to negate truths.

When I say, “I was too busy with outside activities when my children were younger,” the response is “You did the best you could.”

Did I? Not regularly.

When I say, “I’m inattentive to relatives,” or “I’m not generous,” the response is “That’s not true.”

Am I attentive and generous? Not enough.

Years ago, I witnessed a woman confess her failings. I had been affected by her sin. She needed to repent. This moment could have been healing and helped her move forward, but three close friends immediately negated her honest statements.

These friends had not witnessed her behavior. They wanted to affirm her by denying her imperfections. The woman who confessed did not feel affirmed. She felt frustrated and misunderstood. Being accepted with full knowledge of her imperfections would have affirmed her.

Why do we find it hard—even impossible—to let our family and friends repent?

Family, Friendship

Praying for Questions, Not Answers

Over a decade ago, I was in a difficult situation with friends working together in a ministry. One was hurt over a decision made by the overseers, but her response was to slander the group, especially me.

A friend on the outside was conflicted. Even after talking though the situation with me, she was still confused. I could only bring clarity by damaging the reputation of the offender—something I couldn’t do.

I began praying that the outsider would ask the right questions—questions that would lead her to the correct conclusion. And one Sunday she did. Even better, the answer only required a yes or no from me, not details. Problem solved.

That situation taught me the value of questioning—not only receiving questions but also praying for them.

Has a question ever helped your difficult situations?

Basics, Friendship

Being Yourself

Be Yourself because everyone else is taken. Oscar Wilde

One of my favorite women traveled over 600 miles to my house—in her pajamas. I know because when she arrived exhausted, and I offered her a nap before dinner, she said, “I shouldn’t have changed out of my pajamas to go inside McDonald’s at the last exit. My daughter insisted.”

A friend, who had recently moved, asked if she could crash at my home overnight. Her son had a morning orthodontic appointment. “We won’t be any trouble,” she said. “Fix us peanut butter and jelly.” I did. She couldn’t believe that I believed her. Why not? She’s authentic.

These dear women—both named Sandi—are themselves, which frees me to be myself, which hopefully makes it even easier for them to be themselves. It is a cycle that ministers.

Who is the Sandi in your life?

Family, Friendship, Memories

Processing Pain

Take in moments and don’t move on. Take it in so you can be wiser from your moments.

Denna Kastor 2004 Olympics Bronze Medalist

I am quoting Kastor’s words for the third time in two years because her words resonate with me. I regularly need to take in my moments and am more joyful when I do.

However, how do I process painful moments? I stuff. Down deep. Until a situation or a photograph or a spoken word evokes the pain. Or it pops to the surface for no apparent reason. (Like the night I wrote this blog.) Sometimes I have forgotten the pain for a long time.

I am learning to sit a few moments in both past and present pain and experience the emotions of loss or grief or disappointment or disregard or betrayal. To probe the extent of what happened and how it affected me. My forgiveness is superficial when I deny the cost.

To paraphrase Kastor:

Take in Pain and don’t move on. Take Pain in so you can be wiser from your Pain.

Surely he has born our griefs and carried our sorrows, yet we esteemed him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted. Isaiah 53:4

Friendship, Memories

Wound Openers (Reprise)

An innocent acquaintance opened an old wound with her simple question (see here). I understood my unexpected reaction, but what if I hadn’t?

One morning during a conversation among friends and acquaintances, one woman made a statement about World War II. Another disagreed. That seemed the end of it until one came to me and expressed her anger. Frequently, she encountered the woman who had disagreed with her. Each time, ugly, intense feelings overcame her. She wanted to forgive the woman—for what I thought was a benign statement.

I gave some shallow advice, but my husband immediately identified the problem. The words had opened a wound that needed healing.

I knew that the father of our European friend was a businessman in territory captured by the Japanese during World War II. I knew our friend was interned by the Japanese and spent her teen years in conditions slightly better than a prisoner of war camp. I didn’t know that although she immigrated to the U.S. as an adult and told stories of God’s grace and care during those difficult years, our friend still had wounds that bled easily. Thankfully, she agreed to counseling.

Any insight into identifying old wounds?