Pondering, Worrying...or just Thinking

I was thinking about how often I wonder about the things of God…how He moves, how He works and how little I really understand of His ways. I happened to be reading Psalm 77 and saw the writer himself talking about “pondering” the works of the Lord and how he “muses” on the deeds of God. The context in this Psalm is of a wailing, doubting, worrying follower who fears that God has forgotten him.

Sometimes I feel like that too, especially if I have been doing a lot of “pondering”, i.e. "worrying". What is so great about this Psalm is how the writer does a complete 180 in one song. He starts with suggesting that God has changed His character, forgotten His grace and withdrawn His compassion. But then…he ponders some more. He reminds himself of the wonders of God, the works of God and the faithfulness of God.

Sometimes I feel badly that I do so much wondering. I think I should just be able to trust without thinking, to rest in God without worrying.

I am wrong about this. God doesn’t mind that we ponder…in fact it would probably be good for us to ponder more than we do. How often do we allow ourselves to let our minds wander around and about God? We may start with worry…but if it can become a time of thinking, reminding ourselves of truth. Then it becomes a great time of thinking!

I get intimidated sometimes by the concepts of meditation or contemplation. Those terms can sound hyper spiritual or daunting. But they’re not. They are just longer words that mean “to think” and to let yourself be absorbed in thinking. Thinking can be a long, wandering time of thoughts rolling around in your head, of arguing with yourself and then coming to conclusions. God can use that time of thinking…He likes us to think.

I am always trying to bully my thoughts into submission and not let myself worry or doubt God. Yet, I wonder if it is healthier to let our anxious thoughts wander along and then let God gently guide our ponderings into truth? Can we trust the Holy Spirit to guide our thoughts? I think so. Just look at Psalm 77. Here he is, worrying, afraid to think that God has maybe changed or forgotten him, or even that God is mad at him. And then, he turns it around. He thinks some more and then he remembers what is true.

“Your way, O God, is holy; what god is great like our God?” vs. 13.

I’m going to try to stop worrying about “over thinking” things and instead try to calmly “ponder”.

Protecting the Pastor's Children

I had a wonderful experience this last week. One of my adult children shared some spiritual truth with me that I had forgotten.  In this case, it was a good exhortation (code for “kick in the pants”). Now, this adult child regularly brings joy to my heart for a variety of reasons but there was something so wonderful  about hearing spiritual truth from a person that used to be my baby child. What a small and yet majestic thing it was to be encouraged in my faith by my child.  And it could easily have never happened. Just growing up in a Christian family doesn’t  guarantee authentic relationship with Christ. We all want our children to become faithful, mature adults. However, growing up as a “pastor’s kid” can make this extra hard.

There are many who see their children become casualties of the ministry. These children watch and hear as their mothers and fathers get hurt by the same adults who are their beloved Sunday school teachers, worship leaders and trusted adult friends. I have known children who struggle and kick against the church for years because of the difficult times their families have gone through. I have tried to teach my children not to blame God for the mistakes that we as His children make towards each other. It is a hard lesson for all of us to learn and unfortunately, many pastor’s kids see too much bad behavior in Christian adults.

For those who are raising children while also pastoring and leading imperfect people, there are some dangers.  And not just from the people who attend our church. Sure, they might expect too much from your child. They might say something unkind about the church (or the pastor)that your child hears . However, what if we are the ones exhibiting the bad behavior? Maybe we are always talking negatively about the church around our children. Talking about church usually becomes talking about people. Isn’t this still gossip? They are listening to the frustration and anger we express.

We are constantly making choices that our children see and internalize. I know there were times when my children felt “the church” was more important to their parents than they were. This was never intentional of course, but we made choices that communicated this to our children.  At the time, it seemed so important to meet with a new couple in the church instead of having dinner with the kids. Or, it was crucial that the elders meeting take place on the same night as a school function. I know I was sometimes unaware of these subtle choices and what priorities they conveyed to my children. We didn’t always choose wisely.

We can’t protect our children from everything, but we can protect them from a lot of things. We can choose not to talk negatively about those whom we pastor. We can try to  order our times and schedules to reflect all our priorities. We can speak love and forgiveness to them about the hurtful things that happen in church life. We can help them process the grief they feel when their best “church friend’s” family leaves. We can show them that God is enough for us when things are rough and therefore, He is enough for them too. Our own authenticity and faith will be a sign for them.

They may go through a faith crisis. They may go through a “church” crisis. (Those are two different things) And although there are no guarantees, they may end up exhorting you with wonderful truths about God that you forgot. I pray for the latter.

When You Don't Have Anything to Give

Sometimes people need more from us than we have to give. I am mainly thinking of times when I start to depend on myself to meet others spiritual needs and I cannot do it. For example, there have been times when I have felt spiritually tired, dry or worn out.  Then someone needs to talk, or needs prayer, or counsel or just anything. Often my first thought can be: “How do I tell them I don’t have anything to give them?”

Fortunately, I usually don’t want to admit my weakness to them so I confidently say “Sure, let’s talk”, or “What can I pray for you about?”

Why “fortunately”?  Because then, as I am praying for them, listening to them or asking questions, the Holy Spirit gives me a gentle kick of reminder that I am not the one who needs to meet their needs, He is.
I learned long ago that God was not dependent on my spiritual state in order to bring truth, healing or insight to one of his children. I still forget.

And yet, God is faithful to me in these times, just as He is to the person seeking my help. I have found that in difficult times or times of doubt or dryness in my own soul, the words that God will share with someone through my prayer or conversation with them end up building my own faith and reminding me of truths I have temporarily forgotten.

I once spent some time talking and praying with an acquaintance that was unsure of God’s love for her. She was struggling to grasp how she could be special to God, separate and distinct from all the millions of other people in the world.  It was important to her to feel known, understood and valuable as an individual. I don’t remember what I said, what I prayed or much about the actual encounter at all except I knew that what was coming out of my mouth was not anything I could have thought of at the moment. I also knew that it was just as much for me as it was for her.  She left our time feeling that God had given her something to hold onto and treasure about her “specialness” to Him, and I left vowing to never depend on my own wisdom and sense of maturity again.

I also began learning the gift of being empty of great ideas, wise insights and spiritual hyperbole for others.  The more I was able to approach those kinds of situations knowing how empty handed I was, the more God was able to touch that person Himself.  He didn’t have to shout at them over the din of my ideas and solutions for them, but He could speak quietly to both of us. I think I often gain more in these times than those I pray for or counsel.

It can be scary to be with people if you think you have to pull something out of your spiritual hat for them. It is actually less scary to just ask God to take over. Then, if nothing awesome happens, it is His fault, not yours. He is the responsible party anyway.  You and I can’t fix anybody. But we can get out of the way and let God do what He wants to do.  

Have you found yourself in this situation too? How did you handle it? You can write me at ellenpjacobs@gmail.com.  I’d love to hear your stories too.

It's Hard When Friends Leave

I never knew what happened. Somewhere in the transition from being friends planting a church together to me being the pastor’s wife, our friendship was lost.

We had started off with a church planting team full of close friends. It was exciting and God was doing good things. This was wonderful, having team members who already cared about us and our family, who loved us and supported us in prayer.  And then, down the road, after ministering together, praying together and growing together, some friends left.  It may have been because the church didn’t look like they thought it would. It may have been a difference of opinion in how a church should function or maybe just the romance of church planting had worn off. It may have been something we did that caused hurt or offense. I don’t understand why this happens, but it seems to be a common story. Has this ever happened to you?

Maybe you have never planted a church, but if you pastor a church, you know what I mean and you probably have a story or two yourself. Friends leave.  They may have good reasons for leaving and they may have terrible reasons for leaving. They may leave for a reason that you will never even know, but it will still result in the loss of a friendship.

At that point, it is not really about the church anymore. I mean, we all know that people will leave. None of us is so naive as to think that everyone who attends our church will stay forever. Close friends are different though, and it hurts, especially if it is a bad breakup. Whether the reason for leaving is bad or good, it leaves a wound behind.

So what do we do? I think we mourn for a while, perhaps a long while if needed. We ask God to dress our wound. We process, we pray, and time goes by.

And you know what we don’t do? We don’t write that person off. We don’t forget all the good that existed in that friendship. We don’t subconsciously (or consciously) vow to never open ourselves up to people again.

I have been guilty of this. When my friends left a wake of pain behind them in their leaving, I could not think of anything but that pain. I forgot their support during the church plant, their faithful serving, their prayers and love and the fun times. Don’t do this. It is too easy a pit to fall into and too hard to climb out of. No matter how hurt, how betrayed, how disappointed you feel, do not link that person forever with the pain they caused you. They are more than a cause of pain to you; they are one whom God loves, as much as he loves you. And don’t decide to never have a friend again, because you fear they might hurt you too. Easy for me to say, hmm?

No, not easy, but true. And I want to live in truth, don’t you?

Hey, I need a pastor too.

So, who is my pastor? If you have ever been a pastors’ wife, or a pastor yourself you have probably asked this question.  Maybe you didn’t ask it out loud, maybe you only thought it, but you probably have at least wondered about it.
I think most Christians assume that pastors have some kind of person or group of people that they can go to for personal counsel and advice (This in itself is rarely true, but that is another story). But what about the pastors’ wife?  Should she expect pastoral care from her husband? Is he the best person to pastor her?  

I am not saying that your spouse can’t teach, minister to, pray for and lead you as your pastor. My husband is still my favorite speaker and I have heard him a gazillion times. He still speaks wonderful truth to my soul. He is wise, deep and a great source of spiritual knowledge for me. However, I can remember times when I felt I needed a pastor, but I didn’t want to talk to my husband.  I’m sure many of you have experienced this as well. I wanted  a completely objective person who I didn’t have to live with afterwards.  Maybe your spouse can put aside the fact that he is married to you when you come to him for, well, pastoral advice.  And maybe he can’t.  Or maybe, like me, you just want a different pastor for those times; one you aren’t married to. It can get tricky…

Every ministry couple has their own style of relating to each other and working together within the context of their marriage and church. Some rely on each other for every aspect of their spiritual development and some don’t.  Some pray together daily and some don’t. Some feel that they can talk to each other about anything, and some don’t. There is nothing wrong with needing a person other than your spouse for some kinds of pastoral care.

We need people who can listen well, pray with and for you and then point us to Jesus. We need the care and concern of a friend and sometimes we need practical advice. This can be a hard role for our spouses to fill objectively.  And for many of us, these kinds of people are not plentiful.

If you have one good spiritually mature friend, you are fortunate. If you also have friends who are pastors in other churches, you are even more fortunate.  Nurture these friendships so that you both have someone to talk to when your spouse just isn’t the best choice for the situation.  Making time for these kinds of relationships can easily get put on the back burner. It doesn’t feel as pressing and urgent as so many of the other things we do…until we need that friend, that counsel and support. You are not an island, and you and your spouse together cannot be an island either, even when it may feel like “you and me against the world”. You both need more than just each other.  

It's Tender Underneath

I remember a time when I felt like a tree. Not in a good way, really. I felt as if I were a tree being stripped of my bark with nothing but tender growth underneath. Let me give a little background to this story.

I had been experiencing a wonderful time of closeness and renewal with God. I was feeling His presence, it seemed He was answering my prayers, my husband and children were well and the church was growing and happy. Everything was sweet.  And in that time of sweetness, I asked Jesus to make me more like Him, to change me and refine me and make me into who He really wanted me to be. I prayed that a lot, especially because it was such a sweet time, and I felt so lovey-dovey towards Him.

The sweet time continued for a while and then He decided to really answer my prayer. This is where the tree part comes in. In His gentle but insistent way, He began to reveal my sin to me. Sins like selfishness, pride, self reliance and ingratitude. Not only did He show me these sins, He wanted me to see them, turn from them and to stop doing them.  So much of what He wanted me to get rid of felt like it was a part of who I was. I wasn’t sure I could separate me from my sin. It felt like bark being slowly stripped away from a tree. Layers of my identity, tough and dry, were being peeled back and the tender new growth underneath felt very vulnerable. It didn’t feel very good and I felt a little double-crossed. I had forgotten that I had prayed for personal growth, for His likeness to be formed in me. He was being faithful and I was feeling ill used.  I felt like He had used all the closeness to soften me up so He could tear away parts of me.  I was kind of right.

However, the pain and injury of this process drew me to Him. It could have easily gone the other way. I could have chosen to hold onto my protective bark, or grown more back.  I don’t always cooperate with what He is doing, but that time I did. I told Him “okay”. I struggled a lot. I prayed a lot. I cried and complained and felt sorry for myself at times. And I remembered that really, what He was doing was what I wanted Him to do. That there was nothing more valuable to me than becoming more like Him. Even when it was difficult and made me feel very vulnerable.  And the really surprising thing about that time of stripping and tenderness? It was the sweetest of all.

Let's learn to be honest with each other about the pain and sweetness of this process.  If my story sounds familiar to you, let me know. Tell me about your experience.

You People Scare Me.

One time when I was at a national church conference, I went forward for prayer. I wasn’t really sure what I wanted prayer for; I just knew that I felt drained, tired and discouraged. A few people had left our church and were bad mouthing my husband, the pastor, to others still at our church. It was a painful, confusing time and my response had been to withdraw from people and avoid as many church activities as I could. I went to the conference hoping for refreshment and clarity.

The woman who prayed for me was someone I didn’t know, but I recognized. She and her husband pastored a large church and she was a very visible, up front part of their ministry. Our church was small, I was behind the scenes at that time in my life and I didn’t expect to have anything in common with her. I was wrong. One of the first things she prayed was that God would free me from my fear of the people in my church.  I had a spiritual jaw-drop moment when God whispered to me “she’s right, you are terrified of these people who you are trying to lead” I had never realized that the discouragement, fatigue and emptiness I had been feeling was really a gut full of fear. I was afraid of the things people said, I was afraid of them leaving the church and how that would affect me, afraid of what they thought of me or my husband, and afraid of being kicked when I was down. I was afraid of being hurt.

The best part of this realization was that when she finished praying for me, she shared how she struggled with the same fear. She had prayed for my fear to be replaced by peace, my hesitation to be replaced by confidence. We talked for a bit about how overwhelming it could be to feel so vulnerable to the actions of others, to know that their choices could impact you so strongly. I felt a great weight lifting, just knowing that she understood. I left that conference with her words in my mind:

“It’s okay to recognize that people can hurt you, but it’s not okay to live in fear of them”

It had been difficult to be with people, to listen to them, pray with them, to empathize, help or comfort them because I was paralyzed in my own fear. I was crippled in my ability to lead. I can’t say that all fear of people has disappeared, but knowing that others struggle with this and that I was not alone made a powerful impact on me.  Maybe you have experienced this fear too and you can relate to my story. You’re not alone and you probably have a story like this of your own.  I’d love to hear it. You can leave a comment below or send me an email at ellenpjacobs@gmail.com 

Ashes, ashes, we all fall down

But as for me, I will watch expectantly for the LORD; I will wait for the God of my salvation. My God will hear me. Do not rejoice over me, O my enemy. Though I fall I will rise; though I dwell in darkness, the LORD is a light for me. Micah 7:7,8

This is one of my favorite passages, one that I come back to time and again. As a pastor’s wife, I wanted to be perfect, to never make mistakes. When we are in ministry, people are often surprised when we fall. They are disappointed in us and so are we. I needed this reminder that it is part of life to fall, and that God will help me back up. I imagine that in verse 7 I have already fallen…into worry, into criticism, or any of the other common sins I trip over. I am down and can’t see my way up. So I “watch expectantly for the Lord, I wait for the God of my salvation, and I know that my God will hear me.” He heard the “thud” of my fall in the first place.

This is why I love verse 8.  It doesn’t say “if” I fall, it says “though” I fall. I will always fall…that is part of my nature as a human. It is freeing to expect to stumble, instead of being surprised and shocked by it!
God knows our nature and yet He says that we will rise and that He will be our light.

I think of falling down into a dark place where it is hard to see. In my mind’s eye, I see Jesus with a lamp, holding it up and peering into the dark, a look of concern in His eyes. He is looking for me. He holds the lamp up higher to see me and to show me the way.

Lots of my wrongs feel like falling. When we fall, first we slip or stumble a little, then we lose our footing and then there is the actual moment of catching air and crashing to the ground. My mistakes and foibles often take this same form…first I slip a little, then I feel insecure as I sense my loss of balance and then I begin to catch air and “thud”. I have crashed into gossip. Or doubt. Or insecurity.

But that is not the end. That is when we can say with Micah, “Do not rejoice over me, my enemy. Though I fall, I will rise.” We have this promise, that God will hear us, that he will be a light for us. And though it is inevitable that we fall, His light will guide us to rise, to go forward, to try again.

It encourages me when I remember not to be surprised by every tumble I take. God is not surprised. And no matter how many times we trip and fall, He is there to shed light, to help us find a surer path next time.

Are you surprised when you fall? If so, why?

Are you afraid to disappoint people? If so, why?

An Invisible Virtue

When you think about self control, what comes to mind?  I imagine some type of physical self denial, like not eating something or not buying something. It is always something I don’t do, not something I choose to do. I don’t think of self control as a choice that goes on invisibly, in my thoughts and beliefs.

Let me explain. I once heard someone describe self control as an invisible virtue. Intrigued, I spent more time thinking about it and saw the truth in this. There is a lot more to self control than just denying yourself an extra piece of chocolate or a new DVD.

What about the self control of choosing to say something kind when you’d rather respond out of irritation? What about controlling your thoughts when they drift into materialistic desires and wants? We exercise a great deal of self control when we choose to believe the truth about God rather than being swayed by our fears and doubts. These are invisible exchanges that we have in our minds every day. No one sees or hears these decisions we are constantly making. Even we ourselves are frequently inattentive to them. If we don’t learn to make these choices consciously and intentionally, the muscle of self control will atrophy.

In the moments when we choose to believe that God is good, that He is for us, that He is always working on our behalf, we develop self control by what we allow ourselves to think.  This adds muscle to our faith. The same thing happens when we choose what to believe about the people around us. We build a “way of being” that becomes a habit. Disciplines, habits and beliefs come from choosing truth over and over in our daily thoughts. This is the way we build strength to automatically respond kindly when given a choice in how to think about God, how to behave and how to treat others. It is invisible while it is happening. No one sees the choices in your mind. It is between you, your thoughts and God. And, it is the practical application of self control.

I can’t help but think that as we become stronger in controlling our selfish attitudes and behaviors that this invisible virtue will spill out and be seen. Isn’t this how we grow and mature anyway… by hundreds of little choices that we make throughout our lives? It is the invisible choices, and the self control to make them that God uses to form us into His likeness. It is His likeness in our character (or lack thereof) that others experience through us. Our comments, insights, conversations and personality represent us to the world and to those around us.

Peter sums it up through the qualities that he encourages fellow Christians to develop:

“But also for this very reason, giving all diligence, add to your faith virtue, to virtue knowledge, to knowledge self-control, to self-control perseverance, to perseverance godliness, to godliness brotherly kindness, and to brotherly kindness love. For if these things are yours and abound, you will be neither barren nor unfruitful in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ." 1 Peter 1:5-8.

The qualities that Peter describes build upon each other and lead to a deeper knowledge of Jesus. The “very reason” that he refers to is the privilege of growing in the nature of God and in the knowledge of Jesus.  My smallest, most invisible choices are what bring me closer to the grandeur of God.

An Unpleasant Realization

I have been thinking a lot lately about trusting God. I guess when you are in transition or difficulty, it often comes to mind. I realized that for the most part I don’t trust Him. I only trust me. I think that I have a better grasp on my problems than He does, that I know what the best solutions are and that He probably won’t do what I want Him to anyway. These realizations were not pleasant to me.

Perhaps I don’t trust him because I haven’t got enough personal experience to draw from? I know the Bible stories and the accounts of His faithfulness to others, but why can’t I remember much of this when it is my own personal difficulty? I think there are two reasons.

The first is a lack of remembering. I am not alone in this habit. The Israelites were notoriously bad at remembering what God had done for them. They even built altars of rock (at God’s instruction) to help them better remember the great works He had done on their behalf. I am a sloppy rememberer. I know God has done lots of things for me, that He has shown His faithfulness over and over again, but do I have an altar of rocks to remember it by? No, not even a pebble. I used to write down my prayer requests and try to go back and look at them to see what God had done. It was a great exercise, but I still forget to do it.

Perhaps I should take a lesson from the Israelites. I could write things down, plant a tree or even start a rock collection! Maybe I need a “touchstone” to remind me of what I fail to remember on my own.

The other reason I don’t remember to trust God is because I take care of myself, by myself. If I am always fixing my own problems, scrambling to rearrange circumstances and smooth the rough road, I never have to let Him do it. If I never give him a chance to be faithful to me, never get myself in a situation where I am unable to fix it myself, then I have no stories to tell, no miracles to recount. I think this is a bigger problem than my poor memory. I would rather trust myself. Though my solutions are less exciting than God’s, they are more predictable. I am good at scrambling. I can juggle lots of ideas at once and feel more comfortable with all of them, since they come from my own head! No stretching here, thank you.

If I want to build my faith and trust in God, I need to need Him. I must recognize my lack of resources, my inability to fix things and the inferiority of my predictable solutions.  When I allow Him to rescue me from myself, I learn that I can trust Him.