Thursday, November 15, 2012

A Divine Project



Though you have made me see troubles, many and bitter, you will restore my life again; from the depths of the earth you will again bring me up.  -Psalms 71:20

 

Forgiveness is the giving, and so the receiving, of life.  -George MacDonald

 

Grace teaches us that God loves because of who God is, not because of who we are.  -Philip Yancey


Tired.  So tired.  Its been a long 2 weeks.  I’ve been sick with an unrelenting cold that is wearing me down.  I spent two days in bed trying to recover from a cough that felt like an internal beating.  A job on the horizon fell thru.  Not one that I felt a lot of peace about, but an anticipation of financial security and a commitment to make the absolute best of whatever the Lord gives me and then back into the world of unknowns.  And the days seem to drag on.  Alone.  Without him.

When I first met Rick and we started dating, it didn’t take me long to know that he was the one.  It wasn’t because he was perfect, because he was far from it.  It wasn’t because he had a fabulous job, because he was unemployed.  And it wasn’t because he was stable and offered security, because he moved 3 times in the first 5 months that I knew him and probably had 4 or 5 jobs.  It was because he was my favorite person.  He had this unique look on life and made me laugh those deep belly laughs.  He loved and served other people like no one I had ever experienced, and was extremely generous with the little he did have.  And he was interested in my heart.  Its deepest parts.  And he knew the Lord.

I lived in Los Angeles when I first met him.  I was out there pursuing an acting career and he had just gotten out of production.  I worked at a restaurant right by his apartment in which he came in to eat one evening.  He came up to me and started asking me questions about myself and engaging in a noncheesy way, because cheese is the MO of most Hollywood dudes, and he asked me if he could take me out to dinner so he could get to know me better.  **Sigh**  That was literally one of the sweetest things a guy had ever said to me.  He wanted to get to know ME.  He didn’t want to wine and dine me or take me to some she-she party with celebrities and plastic smiles and stuffy atmosphere or tell me of all the fabulous projects he had done.  He was after something else.  A friendship, a romance, an ever-after.  

And as I got to know him and fall in love with him, I experienced for the first time the feeling of wanting to spend the rest of my life with someone.  And I was so excited that he felt the same about me.  Just as much of a mess floundering about and chasing dreams of grandeur, drinking in the LA culture nonsense and lingering at the windows of Vanity Fair.    Living in what seemed like a wasteland of shallow intensions and lost souls with the drum beat of me…me… me…  But God saved me from this place.  My soul, my heart, my life.  And He brought two imperfect people together who were smitten and began a divine project.  

And so marriage happened.  And it was a sweet and turbulent first few years.  Expectations always seem to be a killjoy and me thinking the Holy Spirit wasn’t doing his job and stepping in to take up that task never really worked out for me.  And then kids came, a business started booming, and pressures started mounting.  From simple to complicated to more complicated to neglect.  And here accumulated our baggage.  Piled on high.

 But God was always working.  Here in the mess.  We’ve had so many ups and downs and sideways and backwards.  Two passionate people with strong wills and big ideas lead to many clashing swords.  But then in all of that the desire to push through the thick tension and broken hearts, to pursue the One Who authored this union, and to embrace those sweet and powerful words, I’m sorry.  Words that are a constant in our home.  To each other and to our children and between our children.  And I am SO grateful for those words.  And grateful for the One who we ultimately offend over and over and over again, whose mercy is vast.  For Grace and Forgiveness to be the pillars that hold our family together.  Because when sin smolders black and all of the sudden fires are raging anger, there is nothing like these solid foundations to bind what may seem unsalvageable.   And not only to put the flames out, but to wash and cleanse and heal.  They are songs of hope that were bled at the Cross.  A place of sadness, a place of injustice, a place of suffering.  Where a sacrifice was made, a ransom paid, a debt forgiven.  My debt. 

When the house of cards came tumbling down and bad decisions were reaping, I was seething, and I couldn’t let it go.  It was suffocating me.   And then one day I was sitting in my dark closet crying out to God how unfair it was and how mad I was that I had to suffer from decisions that I didn’t even make.  And then in His quiet tender voice He asks me a question.  Like a whisper in the wind, and my heart heard.  “I have forgiven him, why won’t you?”  And I felt the steel pride break.  Tears began rolling and grace started flowing and I couldn’t wait to run to my man and tell him how sorry I was for holding onto ugly resentment as if I am better.  The parable of the unmerciful servant in Matthew 18:21-35 haunts me.  Especially when I see that it is me.  Someone has to pay the price for a wrong.  In the story, the compassionate king did.  He bore the servants great debt.  But the servant was unwilling to offer such mercy, and ultimately ended up paying the greatest price.  

Forgiveness means to walk in freedom, but it is costly to the one who forgives.  However, it is the only way to prepare the heart for true restoration.  Those who have hurt me will never heal my wounds.  But my Savior will.  And He does.  When I offer the very thing He offers me when I sin against Him, Grace, he washes over those searing heartaches with healing waters and renews.  And I find my heart has a greater capacity to love.  The other way always leads to destruction.  Of a relationship, of a family, of a soul.   

One of God’s tender mercy’s in this painful journey is a sweet renewing of our relationship.  Over the last few years it has been hard to “work” on it.  We have been carrying such a heavy burden, Rick especially, that so many hurts and misunderstandings have just gotten swept under the rug and it’s been overwhelming and you don’t know where to start and so we didn’t.  But there was always hope.  Hope that when all this was over it would get better.  And even in the hardest part of having him gone and being alone and not being able to call him when I want or touch him, I can look into his big green eyes, and see a hardness melting away and a hope that I haven’t seen in a long time springing forth new life, and the joy of all of that brings back butterflies of new love.  It is a beautiful blessing and gift.  From a loving and gracious and faithful God.  Because He is good.  And He is restoring.  And He is healing.  Making all things new.  

Over the weekend there was some jailhouse drama.  The guards put the inmates in a racquetball court while they search everything.  Their lockers, their beds, everything.  Rick had been given a better mattress from someone in there who had apparently altered it in some way to make it more comfortable.  They wrote him up for destroying property.  Then, they found a tattoo gun and tattoo paraphernalia hidden in his locker and wrote him up for that.  Both disciplinary actions could constitute a stay in the “hole”.  Solitary confinement for 30 days.  Apparently the guy who occupied the locker before him was a tattoo artist and hid the jail-made gun well, so Rick and the guards before never discovered it.   Rick doesn’t have a single tattoo on his body so it would be strange if they thought it was his, but we were very worried.  They met with him and he told them that he wasn’t responsible for either of the things he was being written up for and praise God they believed him and he did not have to go in the “hole”.  

He is still sitting in the county jail.  Almost 7 weeks and we are getting anxious.  I call every week to check on the status and they say it could be several more weeks.  Please pray for them to move him quickly!!!  His beard is getting longer and hair is sprouting quickly from when he had it shaved and he tells me funny stories of the “rules” of jail.  Like you can’t look at the other inmates “people”.  When I come to visit him and see the other guys, none of them ever really make eye contact, which I thought was odd, but apparently you can get beat up for that.  There is a cocktail called “hooch” made from old oranges that some of the inmates spend their time making.  I think those guys got put in the “hole” for that concoction.  There are rules about who can talk to who and how you get to the person you need to talk to and who’s allowed to talk to that person.  And other funny crass stories that I’ll spare you the details.  Rick is always looking out for the guys that don’t have much.  Giving away what he doesn’t need and making a call for someone who can’t themselves.  Living out the Gospel, sharing the hope of Christ, loving the unlovable and pursuing joy.  That’s my man.

As for me, I’m back on the job hunt.  I’ve been looking into sales.  Would love to do something from home or outside sales or product rep of some kind.  But I’m open to anything.  If anyone has any ideas/suggestions/resources or knows of someone who has an opportunity or a job that fits one of these descriptions who I could network with, please email me at rachpayne@verizon.net.   Would love to have something soon as the holidays are upon us.  Prayers for provision would be so greatly appreciated! 

Friday, November 2, 2012

Fairy Tales and their potency...



Frodo: "I wish none of this had happened." 
 
Gandalf: "So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us."

I got out my Lord of the Ring Trilogy to watch with my kids this week.  Epic tales of adventure and far off lands and battlefields bled courageously and romance of the purest kind and sacrificial heroes with good and evil always at war.  A story much bigger than ourselves always brings me back to reality.  Reality at it's deepest parts.  Not the noonday demons of impatience, discouragement and despair that try to ensnare as I am looking only at what’s before me.  But a picture, a story, a calling that goes beyond my present circumstances and ignites a heart to spur on.  To fight and believe and suffer well.  To traverse the terrain of hostile domains in the face of peril for a greater purpose beating wildly in the heart.  And it resonates loud.  

I want the story.  I want a life that means something, that has purpose.  And I think I’ve always thought that if I fill my head with enough information from books and other sources, I could get there.  And then when I have the information in my head, it is dead.  I cannot transform myself.  I mean, I might be able to will it for a day or two, but then I’m back to my old ways by default.  It seems forced, contrived, empty.  And I cannot stand a disingenuous existence.  And then I feel defeated, hopeless, helpless, because I can’t make it happen.  I can’t make super mom come flying out of her nest.  And I can’t turn on the wind that blows sexy wife while Suzie homemaker is busy in the kitchen and the maid is doing the laundry and mamacita is helping with homework, bandaging wounds, and breaking up fights.  But here is where the magic comes.  The real magic.  A Savior has come to so graciously intervene.  One with ultimate power.  This power that can shape, morph, renew, and restore.  And He’s been calling me.  Into His adventure, into a Romance, into His story. 

How do I answer such a call?  One that seems so lofty and impossible.  Just like Moses did at the burning bush.  “Please Lord, I have never been eloquent, neither recently nor in time past, nor since You have spoken to Your servant; for I am slow of speech and slow of tongue.”  Arguing with God that He cannot do what the Lord is calling him to do.  I’ve done that.  To which God responds “Who has made man’s mouth?  Who makes him mute or deaf, or seeing or blind?  Is it not I, the Lord?  Now then go, and I, even I, will be with your mouth, and teach you what you are to say” Exodus 4:10-11.  And so God equips him.  In a mighty way.  And he delivers a nation.  But not without great sorrow and suffering.  And along the way the Lord transforms Moses.  Redeeming him and carrying him through.  I want that.

“God knows that soldiers can only be made in battle and are not developed in times of peace.  We may be able to grow the raw materials of which soldiers are made, but turning them into true warriors requires the education brought about by the smell of gunpowder and by fighting in the midst of flying bullets and exploding bombs, not by living through peaceful times.  Is the Lord uncovering your gifts and causing them to grow?  Is He developing in you the qualities of a soldier by shoving you into the heat of the battle?  Should you not then use every gift and weapon He has given you to become a conqueror?”  Charles H. Spurgeon

"I will lead the blind by ways they have not known,
    along unfamiliar paths I will guide them;
I will turn the darkness into light before them
    and make the rough places smooth.
These are the things I will do;
    I will not forsake them."  Isaiah 42:16

I was trying to think of books to send Rick that I thought would be good for him and encourage him.  I have many books that I love with lots of good information.  Great information.  Explanations, definitions, theological examinations, doctrinal studies.  And although I think these are good books, I did not think that they would rouse him.  And this was one of the first times in a long time that I took a moment to think not about what I think Rick needs by my own standards, but what would bring him life.  What makes his heartbeat.  How God wired him.  It is stories.  He loves people and their stories and digging into their hearts.  He thrives in developing relationships.  And so I started to think of the books I have read that are good stories.  Larger than life real stories that emulate the themes of fairy tales.  A noble cause.  Sacrifice. Faith.  Salvation. Redemption.    Where we see that it can be done.  We see the work in progress.  We see it from the beginning to the end and we see that we have a choice.  

The first one I sent him was the autobiography of George Muller.  A story of crazy wild faith and the provision of God.  He liked it.  After reading it I could see a change in his demeanor.  From anxious to calm.  Trusting and praying and letting go of the stronghold of frustration from his situation.  Grace moving, changing, healing and saving.

Rick is adjusting well to life on the inside.  He has made friends, thrown birthday parties, shaved his head for Halloween to look more the part, written me a sweet letter, commissioned jail art of our family’s names, watched all the episodes of Sylvester and Tweedy (because that’s what the tough guys like to watch), bartered coffee for necessities, plays lots of chess and cards, and has become an advocate for these souls who do not have the means or resources to communicate with the outside.   Rick being Rick.  And a new sweet soft calm is emerging.  Like a budding flower opening for the fresh spring rains.  Drinking deep of ancient waters.  Accepting the call to the quest.  And taking up his cross of suffering.  Without complaining.  Without bitterness.  And with joy set before him.  Because there is a much bigger story.  A better one.  One that the Author will take this man and thru his suffering and thru his fight for joy, He will bring Glory to the Himself.  And that’s the story I want.  Where the true Hero is the one who saved me and is still saving me to himself.  And restoring a marriage and a mommy and a servant to my precious Savior.  And then Glory.  A passion for Glory.  May we fight the good fight till the end.  Bringing glory to the One who calls us and transforms us.  Who arms us with hope and truth and grace and gives us the strength to fight the dragons and demons.  His glory is our joy, our battle cry, our victory.
 

Thursday, October 25, 2012

What we really need...


I walk in and see his scruff face all smiles. I sit down on the rusted stool and pick up the old black static phone and speak. Holding back tears today. So good to see him smile, face soft, heart open. He talks about sad dark lost souls ripped open by a broken, hostile world. Where pain and loss have been the drums that beat in their stories. And all they can see is what isn’t. He talks about perspective. Mirror images of one’s own darkness looking back black, and it opens up blind eyes to see. A revelation, a realization, a gift. He says he’s getting used to the “dog food” they feed him and the 4am breakfasts and naps in the morning and locker room camaraderie and has already learned how to make $1 turn into $4 by buying coffee and trading for other prison gems. He is hopeful today, peaceful, even ministering to my anxious heart that God is FOR us and will take care of us. I melt inside watching the loving presence of the Holy Spirit sustaining him, stirring his heart, spurring him on. It is beautiful. In these white walled florescent light gritty hard places, I see beauty. My heart sings and praises God’s goodness. Faithful He is walking graciously with us here and now and showing us His mighty power in this Lion’s den. God protected Daniel (Daniel 6) and He is protecting my man and joy is spilling over in this downcast heart.
 
I thought it would get easier. I thought after a couple of weeks of him gone, it would be easier. I would have it all together, starting a job, making all the decisions for our family, running the show. As captain of this ship I would set sail for calmer waters. And I thought I could do it better, to be quite honest. Oh what a rude awakening this has been. What a burden it is to be in charge of 3 precious little souls and to take of care them and make decisions for our family that I am hoping are the best and right ones and to do it all by myself. It was much easier when I had someone else at the helm. I could sleep better at night, I didn’t have to feel the weight and responsibility of it all. And I didn’t have to be the one to blame when the bottom fell out. I do now. And I see what I horrible first mate I have been. Questioning decision after decision that my husband was making as he has tried to lead and guide our family in the best way he knew how. Loving us and serving us even in these difficult last few years, continuing to work hard and then come home EXCITED to see and spend time with us. Rick doesn’t come home and turn on the TV and zone out. He comes home to a wife with the TV turned on zoning out. Because I’m too tired and too stressed out and have too much to do and just want to spend some alone time with my TV. And here’s the weird thing, I didn’t know why he didn’t feel the same way. Why did he want to spend time with me? Things were so tense and stressful and life sucking. How did he even have anything left to give?

Because that is a place that he finds great joy….and I did not. I was looking for joy in better circumstances rather than in the GIVER of the circumstances. The LORD. These words tore me up last week:

What do I want my children to remember — my joy in clean floors, made beds and ironed shirts — or my joy of the Lord?

 
You will be most remembered — by what brought you most joy.

The joy of the Lord is your strength and the person of Christ is your unassailable joy – and the battle for joy is nothing less than fighting the good fight of faith. -Ann Voskamp


Bottom line…I need Jesus. So desperately and completely and wholly. He heals, He redeems, He restores. He makes all things new. I want my husband to come home to a new wife. A better one. One that finds joy in the Giver of life. The people I know who seek their joy in the Lord have the brightest souls that spill beauty into everyone they touch and I am jealous for that. I will fight for it with His strength and the army of support He has so graciously surrounded our family with. Because “there’s no lone victors and every conqueror always has a team.” -Ann Voskamp


We still have no idea when Rick will be moved. Praying that it will happen soon. Kid’s are doing amazingly well. The weekends are always harder. Weekdays we are busy in routine and sports, schoolwork and story time, cousins playing hard and fighting hard, bedtime comes quick and we all lay down to quiet rest. But weekends are filled with games and family time and quiet space. Saxon’s sadness turned to anger after his soccer game on Sunday. When I probed his little heart, he resisted. He didn’t want to tell me that anything was wrong and he didn’t want to admit he was hurting. I tried to talk to him in which he shut me down. I quietly prayed, “Please, Lord, help me talk to this little boy whose heart is so tender and vulnerable, who is experiencing anger on the surface but I know something else is going on. Help me draw it out.” A soft sweet prompting as if a whisper, give him Grace. So that’s what I did. I shared with him my own battles with the beast and that sometimes anger feels easier than tending to raw gaping heart wounds. He listened quietly, tension softening on his face, and then tears.


I’m so thankful that he can cry and talk and will listen to his mama’s words. Prayerful words giving life to this little soul. Oh how we need Jesus. I could not walk thru one day of this without Him. I’d be a big pile of mess all crumbled tight with no hope. He gives me hope. He gives me strength. He gives me GRACE. Over and over and over again. Undeserved grace. Here is my joycup! In Him. And I will drink deep.