Thirty-three Years and A Resurrection

…grace and truth came to be through Jesus Christ. ~ John 1:17b NASB

Where Grace Grows

Today marks thirty-three years since we moved our family of five into this house with the persistent address. Though we have longed at times to relocate, downsize, inhabit a different floor plan, the two of us are still here.

Our three children were in various grades of elementary and middle school when we took up residence. A lot of life has occurred – for all of us – in the past three decades. What was five is now a family of twelve, separated by time zones, states, and ‘across the pond’. It’s our home where grace grows, with heart and body aches at times. The last photo of the original five was at our son’s wedding 22 years ago. We still do not have a family photo of all twelve of us; we have never been all together at the same time. One or two of our four families is always missing.

Meanwhile, my 94-year-old mother has lived double that time in what was my family of origin home. I was nine months old when she and my father and my two older sisters moved from the shanty to the house on 32^nd. Her stories are plentiful; the relatives love her historian memory of extended family connections and key events. She has been a guardian bar none for her family, while her cross to bear has been each becoming separate from her.

Her cross has been my cross to bear in becoming separate from her. The Lord has seen fit to match her sixty-six years in the family home with our thirty-three years and a resurrection. When we moved in here, our ‘just shy of 15 years’ of marriage needed death to what it had become, both of us crucified with Christ, and His resurrection life at work. You can pine for your mansion in Heaven, but it takes a concerted effort here to rebuild the house you tore down with your own four hands. Especially when it was first built on the familiar patterns you know.

Thirty plus Three

My husband and I began to pursue answers to “how did we get here?” while we continued to rear our children. Graduations, college degrees, marriage, military service, travel, forming their own families. The years passed by as they grew up and out of our home. They all are in various stages of exceeding the old familiar patterns they know, only to establish theirs. Don’t we all. Like heavy furniture on carpet, family patterns leave deep imprints.

My husband and I have held that we do not own our children (or grandchildren); they are gifts from God we were given to steward. By the time we figured out what we would do-over if we could, the kids were grown and flown. A healthy view is that, like archers, we help aim those arrows farther than what we have seen or known.

However, the target makes all the difference. The old familiar patterns will obscure the view and distort the aim.

In the most heartfelt way, we would tell our adult offspring today: “Don’t do what we did. Do better.” Maya Angelou said it this way: “Do what you know to do until you know better. Then do better.” The personalized version and Maya’s to the masses say the same thing, of hard lessons learned and continued growing forward.  

The thirty-year mark coincided with embarking on our one-year sabbatical. Both of us concurred it was time to re-focus on our family of twelve, whereas clients were in the hundreds. For three years we’ve carried that cross. As we told numerous clients, “You didn’t get here overnight, it took years. This process is not overnight either.”

It certainly isn’t. It’s keeping a lifelong teachable spirit with the Lord or burrowing into the old familiar patterns.

Who’s to Blame?

In the decades we studied, learned, and worked in the biblical counseling arena, family always came into it. Especially parental units. Like a worn-out recording, just about everyone can quote, “We’re not here to blame the parents; they did the best they could.” Some did, hard as it was. Others, though, resisted coming down off the pedestal of pride or taking an offered hand to climb out of the pit of shame. There is help available. God has made sure of that no matter who you are. His grace never skipped a generation. Neither has the Spirit of Truth.

When our wake-up call came thirty-five years ago, Holy Spirit used it to persuade us something had to change. In the long run, the change has been in us. Life is not perfect. Others have their Cliff notes’ view of our family. Still others determinedly ‘remind us’ that the old familiar patterns are who we still are. You ask Jesus about that.

Now it is our adult families’ willing responsibility to be persuaded by Holy Spirit what needs to change. He will be as faithful to them as He was and is to us, their degree by degree. Where each one has started with Him, He will finish.

Children should motivate us to mature. Especially when they hit the age of waiting for their parents to grow up.

While we waited, we went to work on our house divided ¹to be able to stand. As for our family of twelve, I remind myself God surely has an eternal purpose that this ‘eye has not seen, nor ear heard of what He has prepared for those who love Him’.² We qualify. And keep learning how to love and do better with those of His in our lives. Today, we’ve been in it thirty-three years and a resurrection. Grace is the Lord is our Final Witness.

Winnowed Gist

Someone left me an invited prayer on a recent Facebook post. I was grateful for winnowing and gist in the same sentence. Because when you commit to the inwardly burning fire set by the Spirit of Truth & Grace, all that winnowing reduces the message to gist. That kernel of truth on which anything of substance must reside.

In a recent conversation, I shared something that had hit me like a lightbulb: “I grew up trained in fear.” The other’s response was one of acknowledgement: “Yes, we were raised to be fearful.” No wonder subsequent generations grapple with fear or have gone the “No Fear” route … until reality shakes out their pocketsful of gist.

Time after time, Jesus is recorded telling His loved ones “Do not fear.” No meme of faith over fear! will quell the disquieted moments of a heart in emotion. His sheep know His voice; that Voice which sounds like the Rock of refuge and reassurance He is. When you hear Him, faith takes a deep gulp of truth and grace. Like the pointed question Holy Spirit posed to me a couple years ago. “Do you trust me with your children?”

It is here, in the winnowed gist, that pride takes a nosedive. Religious spirits aren’t welcome in the grain bin. Flies in the ointment must be dealt with. Prayers like incense are moaned to the Throne of the One who collects them all, along with bottles of tears. For families with whom this resonates, please know you are not alone.

If in all honesty it does not apply to your experience, relish the blessing. And share this with someone you know who can benefit from one who weeps with those who weep, while we wait for that promised joy in the morning. We’ve been blessed with joy; it’s not that it’s never visited. We pray for more, our strength in Him, hearts set on pilgrimage.³

~ Gracefully Free

¹ Matthew 12:25       ² I Corinthians 2:9        ³ Psalm 84:1-12      

Photo Credit: Pexels-Pixabay-33783 │ ©2024 Nancy C. Bentz